Death Frost | Deathsworn #2

Prologue

The trip to Lovarda had none of that magic that I initially felt. There was only dread. There was fear and disgust. I was brimming with worry, with grief. And dragons did these emotions throw me into a pit. It pulled me lower than I had ever been in my two lifetimes and my days were spent in silence, enduring the sickness spun from the rocking motions of the boat—that ceaseless swaying on the calm waters, the occasional hop over a large wave.

My mother's death probably was my fault. If I sang back then a little bit earlier to stop those people...could I have saved her? I knew I couldn't control my ability really well. I was scared I would cause my mistresses harm considering what had happened with Mistress Marian. Would I have made the situation worse or better? I would never know.

My mistresses and other companions were understanding of my situation. I was upset because I couldn't get to see my mother given a proper burial, at least. Especially after she endured such a painful death. I could only hope she was having a better time traversing that bridge of reincarnation. It hurt me knowing she had to forget about everything, but I wouldn't want her to remember how she died either. I would bear that burden of remembering for her, if it would mean she would have a peaceful next life.

The scene of her death played very clearly in my mind. It played many times over until the original image I had of it was scratched and overused. I grew a little numb with every replay. The grief was chipped away bit-by-bit. With every little bit of grief that had gone, hate burned in its place.

This was dangerous, I realized. I didn't want to be one to bear grudges like this, but the more I wallowed in my grief, the deeper the thirst for revenge inched in my bones. With every moment I recalled that night, countless scenarios rose in my mind of me taking the life of that empress just as she'd done to my mother and Aunt Safia. I regretted it deeply that I didn't manage to take her life just as I did to those other men.

It was startling. I should be guilty of having killed other people. But I wasn't, mainly because I thought it was rightfully done. Had I not moved, it would've been me or my other mistresses on the ground.

And those men with reptilian eyes. They were the bane of me. Death didn't work on them and that simple fact scared me. What would you do to the people immune to the only ability you had? Immune to death? One of them even saved that damnable empress. If she just died that night, what little was left of Oblivion would have never crumbled completely. I would assume rearranging matters in Venerya would be much simpler and we wouldn't have had to leave for our own safety.

And now we're here, making our escape to a foreign country.

I once again laid eyes on those Skyhorses—or Seikelwern as the tongue would have it. They were truly larger than life when seen from down below. They had majestic wingspans that could fit around twenty buses in one go. They were large beasts, and while they soared high and fast in the air, they were much slower and heavier on land. Getting them to touchdown gently was a challenge for the pilots, so the ships they carried on their backs were built to endure the tremors should things go awry.

To think it hadn't been very long since I was riding one.

And now I was back in this country again. This time, for a different reason.

I was fortunate that Papi had a stock of books in his vessel. I busied myself going through his collection so that I wasn't always too caught up in my emotions all the time. I spent most of the time reading and staring into space. While Eren and Maun tried keeping me company, I couldn't entertain them for a long time. Nevertheless, they put up with my silence and didn't try to get me to talk any more than I wished to—Maun especially. Eren did the talking enough for the both of us.