Chapter 5
Chapter Five
It took a while to wake up. My eyes were heavy, but the frigid air bit deep, seeping through the heavy fur coat thrown over me. But it wasn’t the freezing air that made my chest tight—it was the iron bars surrounding me, caging me like a wild animal. The white and gray of Icespire swirled around me. My mind was foggy, reeling from the chaos of what had happened, but one thing was clear: I wasn’t safe. Not here. Not anywhere.
The cart rattled with each bump as it trundled through, pulled by a team of horses. The land stretched endlessly before me, a wasteland of nothingness, the mountains in the distance jagged black silhouettes against the pale sky. I gripped the iron bars.
A cage. They put me in a cage.
The panic rose, sharp and suffocating, but fury burned beneath it, bubbling like molten ice. “Where are you taking me?” My voice cracked, a mixture of desperation and anger spilling over. “Let me out of here!”
The soldiers riding alongside the cart didn’t even flinch. Their helmets—shaped like snarling wolves—made them seem faceless, unfeeling. Frosted sigils of Icespire marked their battered armor, and the rhythmic stomp of hooves against the snow drowned out my words.
I gripped the bars tighter. “Are you taking me to the queen?” I demanded. “We need to warn her! The Dragon King—he’s coming! You have no idea what he’s capable of!”
The procession slowed, and one of the soldiers riding beside the cage turned his head. His face caught the dying light—youthful beauty marred by war. A jagged scar ran across his cheek, still pink and fresh, but it didn’t lessen the sharp lines of his jaw or the way his tousled dark hair stuck out from beneath a dented helmet. His armor was patchy, clearly pieced together after too many battles, and his gray eyes, though bright, carried the kind of weariness I recognized all too well. He didn’t look much older than me.
“You need to calm down,” he said, his tone flat but carrying the weight of command. “We’re trying to avoid drawing attention,” he added. The steady, almost detached tone carried the weight of someone used to giving orders—and being obeyed.
“Calm down?” I snapped, gripping the bars until my knuckles burned. “You threw me in a cage! You expect me to sit here quietly?”
His lips twitched, though not in amusement—more like he was holding back a scowl. “You’re in that cage because we found you half-dead in the snow, surrounded by a field of ash and bodies.”
I froze, the weight of his words pressing down like an avalanche. “I…” My words faltered, the memories flashing like lightning—fire, screams, Aeliana’s expression as she died. I gritted my teeth and forced the words out. “Look, I don’t know who you are, but you don’t understand—he’s coming. You have to let me out. We have to warn everyone. The Dragon King?—”
“Save it,” he interrupted, his tone sharper now. His horse shifted closer, and he leaned down, his face nearly level with mine through the bars. “You were unconscious when we found you. Would you rather I had you tied to the back of the cart instead of lying down for the journey?”
I glared at him, heat surging up my spine despite the cold. “I’d rather you listen to me! The boundary over the crypt is gone. Everything is gone. You’re wasting time dragging me around when you should be preparing for him!”
He studied me for a long moment, his gray eyes narrowing as if he were weighing every word I said. “Who are you?” he asked finally.
The question slammed into me, heavy and cold. My lips parted, but no sound came out at first. Who was I? A servant? A survivor? A failure? My breath hitched as I stared at him, the frostbitten wind cutting through the gaps in the bars.
“I’m nobody,” I finally muttered, the words a bitter weight on my tongue. “Just… a handmaiden. Elara.” My voice dropped to a whisper, the fire in me flickering dangerously low. “Who are you?”
His gaze didn’t waver, but something shifted in the lines of his face—his mouth set harder, his shoulders stiffened. “I am Rhydian Veyne,” he said after a long pause. “Warden Lord of the Frostmark.”
A Warden Lord. Of course. That explained the authority in his voice, the way the other soldiers deferred to him without question. It explained the sharp, restless energy that radiated off him, like he was ready to leap into battle at a moment’s notice.
“I was stationed at the border ten frostmiles away when the war drums started,” he continued. His hand tightened on the reins of his horse, the leather creaking softly. “It was my comrades defending the crypt.” His eyes narrowed, his scar tugging slightly as his jaw clenched. “By the time we arrived, there was nothing but death.”
His words hit like a slap, the heat of my anger colliding with the raw edge of his. For a moment, neither of us moved, the tension between us humming like a drawn bowstring. I hated him in that instant—for his calm, for his control, for daring to imply that my grief wasn’t enough.
“Then what do you want from me?” I spat, my voice trembling, low and fraying at the edges. “Why am I in this cage? If you think I’m the enemy, just kill me already and be done with it.”
Rhydian’s gray eyes narrowed, the weight of his gaze bearing down on me like a blade poised to strike. Slowly, he leaned forward in the saddle, his face inches closer to the bars. “If I thought you were the enemy,” he said, his words calm but sharp as steel, “you’d already be dead.”
The quiet certainty in his tone made my pulse stutter.
He nudged his horse closer, the animal’s massive frame moving with deliberate precision. He loomed over the cage, the harsh angles of his face catching the light as his jaw tightened, a muscle flickering beneath the scar on his cheek. “You’re the only one left alive. Start talking.”
The accusation hit like a whip, and I flinched before I could stop myself, my back slamming into the bars with a dull thud. The iron was freezing against my skin, but it barely registered over the heat of my anger. “I shouldn’t have survived,” I snapped.
His gaze didn’t falter, didn’t waver, didn’t give me an inch. It held me captive, as if he could pin me down with sheer willpower alone.
My chest heaved as I gripped the bars, the cold biting into my palms. “Aeliana is gone. Everyone is gone. I watched them burn—I watched the Dragon King rip through them like they were parchment.” My throat tightened, and the memory surged up like bile, the smell of smoke, the sound of screams, the fire.
Rhydian’s shoulders stiffened, his expression unreadable, though a flicker of hesitation crossed his face before vanishing. His grip on the reins tightened, the leather creaking under the strain. When he spoke, his voice was clipped, precise—every word measured like a soldier delivering a report. “The princess,” he said, tone sharp and professional. “No trace of her was found during our search.”
The words felt like a knife twisting in my chest. “Because there is nothing left of her. She’s dead,” I said, forcing the truth out through the tightness in my throat. “The Dragon King burned her alive. She never stood a chance.”
Silence followed, suffocating and thick. My own breath was the only sound I could hear, coming fast and shallow, each exhale fogging in the icy air.
Rhydian’s expression didn’t shift—his features were as rigid and unyielding as the iron cage around me. But his grip on the reins tightened again, and his horse shifted beneath him, as if sensing the tension in its rider.
“And you,” he said at last. “How did you survive?”
The question struck me harder than it should have, scraping against the raw edges of my guilt. My mouth opened, but no words came out at first. I searched for an answer, for something that made sense, but there was nothing. Nothing except the fire, the ash, and the unrelenting truth that I should’ve died with her.
“I…” My voice faltered, barely a whisper. “I don’t know.”
The words hung in the air, hollow and damning.
Rhydian’s eyes narrowed slightly, his jaw tightening again as if he were trying to piece something together, as if my uncertainty was the missing piece to a puzzle he didn’t want to solve. He leaned back in the saddle, putting just enough distance between us that I could finally take a full breath, though it still felt like breathing through broken glass.
“Rest while you can,” he said after a long moment, his tone clipped but quieter now. “We’ll find out soon enough.”
The cart jolted forward again, the iron cage rattling as the soldiers’ horses fell into step. I slumped back against the bars, the cold seeping into my skin as my breath fogged in the icy air.
The soldiers around us rode in silence, their faces grim beneath their helmets. They were a rough, battle-worn group, their armor scratched and dented like they’d been through hell and back—and hadn’t quite made it out whole.
I felt the weight of Rhydian’s attention, a quiet, suffocating pressure that left no room for hope. The reality of my situation settled in my chest like lead: I was a prisoner. Shackled, caged, and being dragged toward a queen who would have no mercy for someone like me.
I was the lone survivor.
I had stood before the Dragon King, stared into the fire that turned everything I’d ever known to ruin, and watched him reduce my world to nothing but ash and smoke. And yet, for reasons I couldn’t begin to understand, he had let me live.
But survival wasn’t a mercy. It wasn’t some gift to cling to.
It was a curse—one that weighed heavier than the bodies I couldn’t save, heavier than the ashes I carried on my skin. To live meant to remember, and to remember meant to suffer.
We made our way through the icy wilderness, the grim silence of the soldiers surrounding me a stark contrast to the whirling storm of thoughts in my mind.
Eventually, the cart slowed as we approached a village on the outskirts of the kingdom. It was a small, bleak place, its buildings huddled together as if for warmth against the biting wind. The roofs were covered in ice, the walls dark with age and soot from countless fires. Smoke curled up from chimneys, disappearing into the gray sky above. The villagers moved about their tasks with their heads down, wrapped in thick, threadbare cloaks that did little to ward off the chill.
As we entered the village, I scanned the streets, searching for signs of panic, or even the mourning rituals Icespire was known for. The crypts were gone. The heart of our kingdom—where every noble, every royal, every bloodline of power found their final rest—had been desecrated. This wasn’t just a loss; it was a desecration of our very history, a wound that would bleed through generations. The people should have been shattered, their grief pouring out in waves.
The villagers moved about as if nothing had happened. Children played, their laughter bright and carefree, while merchants haggled loudly in the small market square. There were no mourning cloaks, no banners, no signs that anyone knew—or cared—that the Crypt of Silence had been reduced to ash or that Princess Aeliana was gone.
My chest tightened, anger and confusion twisting into a knot deep in my stomach. How could they not know? Aeliana was still a daughter of the king. Her death should have sent ripples of sorrow through every corner of Icespire, even this forgotten village. Even if she were exiled. Even if she was the daughter of a concubine.
Why was no one grieving with me?
Was this even real?
I pressed my face against the bars of the cage, listening for the villagers’ conversations as we passed, hoping to catch some mention of the tragedy. But all I heard were snatches of everyday gossip—life continuing as if nothing had changed.
Perhaps word hadn’t spread here yet.
No one was running, no one was panicking. How could they not know?
I rattled the bars of the cage, my breath fogging the icy air as I screamed. “The boundary is gone! Run, you idiots! The Dragon King is coming, and none of you are safe!”
Villagers paused mid-step, their wary eyes darting toward me. A mother dragged her child into a house, slamming the door with a bang loud enough to echo. Others turned their backs entirely, muttering to each other as though my words were nothing more than the ravings of a madwoman.
“You don’t understand!” I shouted, gripping the bars until my hands ached. “The boundary is shattered! He’ll burn everything—your homes, your lives, your entire village!”
A few soldiers exchanged uneasy glances, their hands tightening on their reins. But most remained impassive, their faces hidden behind the snarling wolf-shaped helmets.
“Enough,” Rhydian snapped. He swung off his horse in one smooth motion, the heavy clink of his armor marking each step as he strode toward me.
I turned my fury on him, rattling the bars harder. “Did you even see what’s coming for us?” I spat. “The fire, the destruction?—”
“Of course I saw it,” Rhydian interrupted, his gray eyes narrowing as he stopped in front of the cage. “Only dragon fire leaves behind ash like that.”
“Then why are you wasting time?” I demanded, heat flaring in my chest. “You should be warning the queen! Every second we waste?—”
“We’re moving as fast as we can,” he snapped back. “Or did you think the snow and ice would magically part for us because you’re in a rush?”
My mouth opened, but no words came.
Rhydian leaned closer, his voice lowering. “The roads are frozen, the snow’s worse than it’s been in years, and my men haven’t stopped since the war drums started a day ago. They spent hours digging through smoldering rubble. They’re exhausted, they need food, and they need rest. Unless you’re volunteering to drag this cart yourself, shut up and let me do my job.”
I clenched my fists, anger bubbling under my skin. “You don’t have time to stop,” I hissed. “The Dragon King isn’t going to wait for your men to catch their breath.”
Rhydian raised an eyebrow, his tone turning mocking. “You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t know exactly how bad this situation is? But panicking an entire village isn’t going to fix it.”
“It’s not panic—it’s the truth,” I snapped.
“Is it?” he countered, stepping closer until only the bars separated us. His gray eyes pinned me in place, unrelenting and sharp. Rhydian tilted his head, the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “That’s for the queen to decide. And trust me—she’s a lot less forgiving than I am.”
“Forgiving?” I laughed bitterly, the sound cracking in my throat. “You call this forgiving? Locking me in a cage while you waste time?”
“Forgiving is me not leaving you in the ashes where we found you,” he snapped back, his gray eyes flashing with anger. “The way I see it, you’re either very lucky or very dangerous. And until I figure out which, you stay in the cage.”
“You’re an asshole,” I spat, heat flaring under my skin.
Rhydian’s lips curved into a faint smirk, one that didn’t reach his eyes. “Maybe,” he said softly. “But at least I’m not freezing to death tonight.” He straightened, his tone turning clipped and commanding again. “You’ll sleep here. Try not to die before we reach the castle. The queen would hate to lose her only witness before we get to the truth.”
The soldiers paid me no further mind as they headed into the warmth of the inn, their laughter and rough voices fading as the door shut behind them, leaving me alone in the dark night. I curled up against the side of the cart, the icy air biting at my face, and tried to focus on the warmth of the fur coat draped over me. But it did little to stave off the bone-deep chill that settled in as the sun dipped below the horizon, leaving the village in darkness.
My exhaustion pulled at me, but I couldn’t sleep.
When the moon was high in the sky, I heard the crunch of footsteps approaching, and I glanced up to see a tall figure looming over the cage. His armor was different from the others—darker, heavier, with intricate engravings that seemed to absorb the faint light of the inn’s windows. A full helmet obscured his face, leaving only the glint of his eyes visible through the narrow slits.
He stood there for a moment, silent and imposing, as if weighing whether or not to even bother with me. Then, with a quick, almost careless motion, he tossed something through the bars of the cage. It landed beside me with a dull thud—a small bundle wrapped in cloth.
Food.
I glared at it like it might explode. “I’m not hungry,” I snapped, pulling the fur coat tighter around me.
The soldier standing nearby tilted his head slightly, the dark slits of his helmet hiding his expression, but something about his posture screamed impatience. “Starve if you want.” he said, his tone low and deep, laced with dry indifference.
“I’m not eating your poisoned food,” I shot back.
For a moment, the soldier didn’t respond. Then, with a quiet sigh that sounded more exasperated than anything else, he stepped forward, reaching for the bundle. My breath caught as he unwrapped it and raised it to his mouth, lifting his helmet just enough to reveal a sliver of skin and the sharp edge of his jaw. Without hesitation, he bit into the bread, chewing deliberately before lowering the helmet again.
“Convinced?” he asked, his tone cool, but there was something undercutting it—a faint, mocking edge that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.
I hated how my stomach growled in response. “You didn’t have to do that,” I muttered, snatching the bundle from his hand.
“No,” he agreed easily, stepping back. “But watching you faint from hunger would be inconvenient.”
“Inconvenient?” I tore into the bread, the warm, solid taste grounding me in a way that made my pride sting.
“Would you rather I pretend it’s out of the kindness of my heart?” he shot back, his words laced with a dry amusement that made me glare at him through a mouthful of bread. “Eat, don’t eat—it makes no difference to me.”
I narrowed my eyes but said nothing, letting the food fill the emptiness in my stomach. He didn’t move, his figure still and unnervingly watchful, as if he were trying to figure out whether I was worth the trouble.
When I finished, he handed me a flask.
I uncorked it and sniffed cautiously before taking a small sip. My throat burned instantly, the liquid scorching its way down my chest. I coughed violently, glaring at him. “What is this?”
“Not water,” he said, his tone flat but with a faint rumble of amusement beneath it.
“No kidding,” I wheezed, wiping my mouth.
“It’ll keep you warm,” he added, leaning lazily against the side of the cart. “You’re welcome.”
“Warm or dead,” I muttered, but I couldn’t deny the liquor was already working, the frozen ache in my limbs beginning to thaw.
Before I could say anything more, he stepped forward again, his gloved hands reaching for the fur coat around my shoulders. I flinched, instinctively leaning back.
“Relax,” he said. “You’ll freeze if it’s not wrapped properly.”
I held my breath as his hands adjusted the coat, his movements quick and efficient. The touch of his gloves against my skin sent a strange jolt through me, and for a moment, I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to pull away or lean into the warmth.
“What’s Rhydian’s strategy?” I muttered, forcing sarcasm into my voice to mask my unease. “Send you to make sure I don’t die before I’m useful to the queen?”
He paused for half a second, his hands still on the coat, before stepping back and crossing his arms. “Something like that,” he said coolly.
“Well, you can tell him I’m fine,” I said bitterly. “No need to hover.”
“Trust me, I’m not here for the conversation. You’re his problem, not mine. I’m just keeping you alive.”
“Keeping me alive?” I laughed bitterly, though the sound cracked in my throat. “Why bother?”
He stilled at that. “I’m not sure,” he said slowly. “But you will not die tonight.”
The words lingered between us, heavy and sharp, and I hated the way they made my chest tighten.
“What’s your name?”
For a moment, he hesitated, the pause just long enough to make me question him. “Valen,” he said finally.
“Valen,” I repeated, testing the sound. It felt distant, hollow—like armor rather than truth. “Does Rhydian even know you’re out here, Valen?”
He chuckled softly, though there was no humor in it. “You ask too many questions.”
“Only because you don’t answer them,” I shot back.
“Smart,” he said, stepping away from the cart and back into the shadows. “Save that spite for the queen. You’ll need it.”
His sudden retreat left me unsteady, as though the world had tilted and I was the only thing left standing. The air still pulsed with his presence, the lingering heat curling around me like smoke—suffocating, impossible to outrun. I pulled the coat tighter, the liquor’s false warmth pooling in my chest, but it couldn’t touch the cold gnawing at the hollow place inside me.
I didn’t trust anyone here. Not the shadows that crept too close, not the silence that felt too sharp. But trust didn’t matter. I just needed to keep moving. To get to the castle. To warn them.
Aeliana’s name flickered through my mind, soft as a prayer, sharp as a knife. I had once promised her I would survive, that I would carry on even when she couldn’t. But as I staggered forward, the silence pressing in on all sides, I couldn’t help but wonder if survival without her was anything more than a slow death.