The Frost Maiden's Kiss by Claire Delacroix Page B

Rafael to admit it aloud. “You are not beholden to me. Take your steed and ride south whenever you so choose.”
    Rafael gave him a dark look. “You know I stay to try to save you from that fiendish wager. We have fought back to back long enough that I would not see you lose your soul.”
    “Perhaps it was lost already,” Malcolm replied.
    Rafael rolled his eyes at that. “You think too much of matters. Our labor was a simple exchange, expertise for coin. Each contract fulfilled and paid and done.” He put his cup down on the board heavily. “So, you have traded your soul for mine and we both escaped Hell for that. They, whether they be Fae or demons, mean to claim your soul for a tithe to Hell on Midsummer’s Eve. Where is it writ that you must surrender it?”
    “The Fae cannot be cheated.” Malcolm shook his head. “The agreement is made.”
    “Simply stay out of the caverns!”
    Malcolm gave him a dark look. “They will collect me, no matter where I hide myself.”
    “Then leave Ravensmuir.”
    “Never!”
    “You are cursed stubborn.” Rafael helped himself to another cup of wine.
    “Where should I go?” Malcolm demanded. “This is my holding. This is where I always knew I should die. If it must be sooner than later, so be it.”
    The other man’s eyes glinted. “I say there should be a way to sever the agreement.”
    “Then I invite you to find it.”
    Rafael looked even more grim, but he did not fall silent. “Ask the whore. She seems to think they can be outwitted, as you do not.”
    “Those are but tales!” While Catriona told of mortals triumphing over the Fae, Malcolm knew that to be a whimsy. He recalled Vivienne’s assertion that that Isabella had saved Murdoch from the Fae, but dismissed it, for he did not know the details of what had happened. Either of those sisters, with their fondness for tales, might shape the truth to fit their expectation of a better ending.
    “And the sole source of detail about these fiends I have,” Rafael said, his tone grumpy.
    “The bargain must be kept. Either I keep it, or you keep it. The Fae suffer none to break their word.” Malcolm knew how Rafael would respond to that.
    “I say ask her counsel.”
    Malcolm was not disappointed that his friend did not offer his own soul in exchange, for he had not expected it of him. “I say drink your wine and be glad of it.”
    “Aye, glad of it I am. The first wine I have had since riding north and most welcome it is. Frigid in winter, and now, this land is hotter than Hades itself in the day and so dry that we could be in the deserts of Araby.”
    “You can leave at any time.”
    “And leave your soul undefended? Not I!”
    “My soul.” Malcolm had heard enough of his comrade’s protests of innocence. “My soul has naught to do with your decision to remain.”
    “We are comrades!”
    “You will wait until the Midsummer’s Eve,” Malcolm predicted with confidence. “Like a hound awaiting scraps from the board, you will see what you can claim when I pay your debt.”
    “This hall you build could scarce be called scraps!” Rafael turned upon him with disgust. “That is a fine accusation to make of a man who saved your sorry hide…”
    “I know you, Rafael,” Malcolm said, interrupting him. “You will remain until Midsummer’s Eve, and if it is possible, you will defend my life and my soul.” He shook his head. “If it is not possible, and it will not be, you will claim whatsoever remains in my treasury, as your spoils of war, and head south.”
    Rafael appeared to consider the merit of denying this, then his smile flashed in concession. “It does appear that you know me well,” he said and Malcolm shook his head. “But even though you believe it to be futile, I will defend you to my last.”
    “And so you should, for it is you who both saved me years past and condemned me on the night of our arrival here.”
    Rafael sobered. “You did not need to offer yourself in exchange for