Thread of Frost

Ch. 17: You're Really Very Lucky

"You look tired," Halson said.

Did she? "It's a lot to take in."

"You'll grow accustomed to it." Halson held up a glass tumbler to the light. "Lestia chose you because you're strong. You'll make a good empress."

"Thank-you," Isolde said.

Halson hummed, pouring caramel-coloured liquid into the tumbler. A knot tightened in her stomach. Raucous music and laughter drifted through the open window. This was the first time they were alone together, Isolde realized. Would Halson try to kiss her? Would he try to take what husbands were owed?

The knot choked her lungs.

Halson held up the bottle. "Whisky?"

"Thank-you," Isolde said. "But no."

Halson looked oddly satisfied. He set down the bottle, crossing to the bookshelf. "I'd like you to read this when I'm gone."

He held out a large tome. Isolde turned it over.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Sermons."

Isolde glanced at the title. "I'm familiar with Drusden. Sister Tria read passages from his work during evening prayer."

Halson sat beside her. "He's a fine thinker, Drusden."

Isolde looked down at the leather cover. "Are you aware that he believes all women should be subservient to their husbands?"

Her ears felt hot. The mark on her forehead seemed to pulse, contracting and expanding like a clenched fist. Halson took a sip of whisky, swirling his glass. "Are you suggesting that they shouldn't be?"

His voice was casual. There was a correct response, Isolde sensed. She set down the book, folding her hands in her lap.

"Where will you go?" she asked. "On your business trip."

Halson knocked back more whisky. "Wynterlynn."

"I see," Isolde said. "Is that safe?"

"Perfectly," Halson said. "I'm to meet with Eris Delafort."

The knot in her throat expanded. "I've heard rumours about him. He sounds very..." She hesitated. "Volatile."

Halson patted her leg. "You shouldn't listen to gossip, my pet. Although I find your concern for my safety most touching." His hand climbed higher, skimming the silk of her skirt. "Don't fear. I'll be back before you know it."

"Halson?"

His hand paused.

"Is it true?" Isolde's heart hammered in her chest. "What they're saying about Camille Dufleur?"

His fingers tightened. "As I said, you shouldn't listen to gossip."

She licked her lips. "People say that she's been possessed."

Halson drained his whisky. "People ought to mind their own business."

"By Lucia," Isolde added.

Halson stood. The movement was abrupt, and his knee knocked against the wooden coffee table, sending it skittering across the room. He set the whisky glass on the sideboard. Wiped his mouth with his sleeve.

"It's none of your concern, my darling."

Isolde sat forward. "Why are you going there?"

"You should make a start on those readings," Halson said.

He turned for the door. Desperation swelled in her chest.

"Halson," Isolde said. "Please."

Halson yanked open the door. "I particularly enjoy the fourth sermon." His shoulders were a tight line. "Drusden discusses the regression of mankind and philosophical thought. Now, if you'll excuse me."

He stepped into the corridor. Isolde rose.

"Just talk to me."

The words burst from somewhere inside her. A foot stamping on a ripe tomato. Halson paused, his hand still on the doorknob. A horrible silence fell. She could feel the ticking of her own heart like an organ metronome, filling the cavernous church with a terrible, rhythmic click.

"Halson..." Her throat was dry. "I didn't mean..."

He surged across the room.

Fury twisted his face. Halson's blue eyes were dark, the sort of bleak winter hinterlands where even the hardiest plant couldn't grow. He gripped her wrist, yanking her closer. Pain screamed in her shoulder.

"Let me make one thing perfectly clear." Halson's voice was low. "You are empress in name only. I am the ruler of this empire, and as such, you are one of my subjects. You will not raise your voice at me. You will not question my decisions." His fingers dug into her wrist. "Do you understand?"

She flinched. "You're hurting me."

He shook her arm. "Do you understand?"

"I understand!"

"Good," Halson said. "Now apologize to me."

"I'm sorry."

The words came out as a whisper. Her heart was beating so fast that it was almost painful, and she took shallow breaths, trying to stop the world from spinning. Halson's fingers relaxed. He stepped back.

"There," Halson said. "You see? That wasn't so hard, now, was it?" The emperor chuckled, shaking his head as he leaned in to kiss her forehead. "Be good, my darling. I'll be back before you know it."

He stepped out of the room.

Slowly, Isolde sunk into the sofa. Her legs were trembling, shaking out from beneath her. Her wrist ached where Halson had gripped it. Her husband's final words played in her head on a loop, circling each other like ice skaters: Be good. I'll be back.

It didn't sound like a promise.

It sounded like a threat.