CHAPTER NINETEEN.
The sole of my feet aches, pulsing with sharp pain as I try to massage them. But with my fingers still broken and wrapped tightly, the task is nearly impossible. A frustrated groan escapes my lips as I flop back onto the bed, wincing at the stiffness in my spine.
It's night already. Hours have passed since I was dismissed from King Sven’s throne room after declaring my intention to enter the Dance of the Dead. The stunned silence from the court still echoes in my mind, but none louder than King Sven's response. He didn't say a thing, but his actions spoke more than words ever could. He was smiling, amused, as if watching me willingly walk into death was the best entertainment he’d had in weeks.
Still, I can't stop thinking about how close I came to dying. And how easil
