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Eleleth's Heir
5,000 Years Later:
The Snow King watches me on a throne of silver. He twines a thread round his fangs, then snaps it and spits it out. “Slit my gullet and stuff it full of pork pie. I’m starved,” he opines. His muscles ripple as he flexes biceps that could crush a giant’s skull. “My adorable little wife. Come and let me pamper you. Maybe you brought me food?” His ram’s horns shine in the mist.
“I’m 6’7 and covered in gore from your labyrinth. I ran out of food a day ago.”
“I’m 7’8. Hence, little lady, thou art tiny. And what’s a little blood to a man, Dia?”
He snorts suggestively, a caged gnarl. I laugh at the silly sound.
“You haven’t changed a bit in undeath, Lussi,” I observe.
He smirks. “The siren call of the grave makes me stronger.”
I study him: my husband dear an
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