Queen of Frost and Fire
by Libby Hastings
“Leave me,” the Dowager Queen told her retinue as she reached the door to the crypt. They obeyed at once, the highest nobility in the land tripping over each other in their bows and retreats, their gazes cast to the ground. She had taught them to know their place.
She stepped across the threshold and closed the door. With increasing urgency, she shucked off her heavy royal garments, layer after layer, until she was nearly naked, clad in a simple servant’s dress. Her fingers trembled as she fumbled with her candle, agonies of anticipation vibrating through her body. It had been too long, far too long, but a woman in her position had to be careful. There were rumors enough. She’d had men executed for lighter slanders than these.
Ice queen, they called her.
They knew nothing.
Mirrored from Circlet Press: Welcome to Circlet 2.0.