Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
I t’s quite ironic that in an entire castle made of ice, the coldest part of it is actually the only place not made of ice. Which just so happens to be the dungeon.
I stare at the iron bars that make up the entire front wall of my cell. Coldness from the stone floor seeps through the fabric of my pants and chills me to the bone. A shiver rolls through my body.
If I could just stand up, I could at least pace back and forth to try to get some warmth back. But I can’t. My hands are shackled behind my back with iron manacles which, along with the collar around my throat, drain my already dwindled energy and strength. And even if they weren’t, I couldn’t have gotten to my feet anyway. Because the handcuffs are also locked to an iron ring set into the thick stone floor behind my back, trapping me in a kneeling position.
I blow out a long sigh.
My breath forms a small white cloud in the air before me.
The feeling of ice pressing into my throat and my wrists from the iron collar and shackles aren’t exactly making it better either. While glaring at the empty stone corridor outside the bars to my cell, I once more lament the fact that this dungeon isn’t made of ice as well.
Just like Isera, the Iceheart monarchs must be able to somehow control the temperature of the ice they create. Because the walls and all the floors in the palace might look like they’re made of ice, but they’re not cold in the way that real ice is. It’s only smooth and cool. Kind of like marble.
But here, down inside the mountain, on whose slopes the Ice Palace sits, only cold stone and iron has been left to torment me.
A new sound comes from the corridor.
My gaze darts towards it.
Straining my ears, I try to hear past the voices of the guards who are talking amongst themselves in a room somewhere down the corridor. Firelight from the torches set into the walls dances across the rough stone, and there is a muted dripping of water in the corner behind me. The guards continue chatting softly.
I tilt my head slightly as I concentrate on trying to identify that new sound. But no matter how hard I try, it doesn’t sound again.
Heaving a defeated sigh, I let my head drop back down. With my chin resting on my chest, I stare down into my lap while both frustration and a sudden sense of despair wash over me.
Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.
Mabona’s tits, what was I thinking? I just ran blindly through a castle that I don’t know the layout for. Until the guards hauled me down to the dungeon, I didn’t even know which floor of the castle I was on. I should have made a proper plan first. I should have eaten to get some of my strength back. I should have plotted my escape route. I should have done so many things differently.
But I just… I couldn’t pass up the opportunity. Who knows if Draven would ever make the same mistake of forgetting to lock the door again? I had to take the opportunity presented to me.
Annoyance ripples through me.
Why did some damn Master of the Treasury need to get murdered right in the middle of my desperate escape?
“So I hear you killed someone.”
I snap my head up.
A small gasp escapes my lips when I find Draven standing right on the other side of the iron bars. He is now wearing his black dragon scale armor again, and he must have performed a half-shift too, because his wings are out. His arms are crossed over his chest, and there is a disapproving look on his face as he watches me.
“And not just someone,” he continues. “The Master of the Treasury.”
“It wasn’t me,” I protest.
He lets out a huff of laughter. “Yeah, that’s what they all say.”
Metal clanks as my handcuffs rattle the short chain when I try to stand up before I once again remember that I’m trapped. Frustration streaks through me, and I yank futilely against my restraints again.
“Goddess damn it, Draven,” I snap. “Listen to me. I didn’t do this.”
He just continues watching me in silence, his face unreadable.
I try to keep my scowl firmly in place as I glare back at him, but I can’t stop a hint of worry from rippling through me. What if he actually thinks that I killed that guy? I doubt murder goes unpunished in the Ice Palace. I’m already a slave. What else will they do to me if I actually go down for this?
Draven lets out a long breath and uncrosses his arms. “I know.”
Metal clinks faintly as he pulls a set of keys from one of the pouches on his belt. I watch him, still a little stunned, as he unlocks the section of the iron bars that functions as a door. Giving my head a quick shake, I try to clear it while Draven strides into the cell.
“You know that I didn’t kill him?” I echo.
“Yes.” He moves until his boots are right in front of my knees. “His throat was slit, and you had nothing to slit it with.”
Since he’s now looming over me, I have to crane my neck to meet his gaze as I narrow my eyes at him. “Because that’s the only reason why it couldn’t have been me? Not because, oh I don’t know, the fact that I would never just kill an innocent unarmed man?”
Amusement flickers in his eyes as he arches an eyebrow at me. “I distinctly remember you slashing a knife at my face back in the thorn forest.”
“Yes, well…” I huff. “You weren’t innocent. Or unarmed, for that matter.”
A dark chuckle escapes his throat, and he tips his head to the side as if to concede that I do have a point.
I rattle my manacles again. “So, are you going to unshackle me or what?”
With a sly smile on his lips, he slowly reaches forward and draws a hand along my jaw. That devilish smile combined with the gentle touch makes lightning skitter across my skin. I draw in a sharp breath as his fingers stop underneath my chin and push upwards, tilting my head farther back.
“I haven’t decided yet,” Draven answers.
I grind my teeth. “But I didn’t kill him.”
“No. But you sprinted away like a little thief even though I told you to stay?—”
“I’m not a dog.”
“—in your room while I left to get you some food,” he finishes as if I hadn’t interrupted. And he puts extra emphasis on that last word. As if I’m supposed to be grateful that he still intends to feed me after making me his slave.
“So maybe I should leave you here for a while to teach you a lesson about disobedience.” His eyes glint. “And because you look really fucking hot in handcuffs.”
A jolt shoots straights through my core. It’s immediately followed by a wave of anger. I shouldn’t be reacting like this to him. Not after everything that has happened. But apparently, the feelings that I had started to develop for Draven don’t just magically disappear overnight. Even though everything between us is now more complicated than ever.
Clenching my jaw, I glare up at him in silence. He just stares right back at me. His hand is still underneath my chin, tilting my head back and exposing my throat to him.
“I won’t beg, if that’s what you’re waiting for,” I declare.
The silence crackles around us as he holds my gaze.
Then a soft laugh escapes his lips. “Of course you won’t, little rebel.”
Letting his hand drop from my chin, he instead walks around me until he can reach the manacles behind my back. Faint clinking sounds. Then two distinct clicks.
A sigh of relief comes from deep within my chest when the iron handcuffs disappear from my wrists.
Rolling my shoulders, I move my hands forward and rub at where the iron touched my skin. It helps remove the feeling of ice from before. Draven walks back around me while I brace my palms on the floor in an effort to push to my feet.
My legs don’t move.
Dread sluices through my veins. I’m still too weak after the contact with so much iron, combined with several days without food, that I can’t stand up yet. It’s going to take another few minutes for my body to recover enough strength to stand. Let alone walk back up all those stairs that the guards hauled me down.
But I’m too frustrated and embarrassed and stubborn to tell Draven that, so I just remain there on my knees while he takes a step towards the door.
“You…” he begins, but then he trails off when he notices that I’m not following him.
His dark brows furrow as he turns and looks back at me. Then realization pulses across his face.
Averting my gaze, I clear my throat a tad awkwardly while another flicker of embarrassment sears my cheeks. Mabona’s fucking tits, one day, I swear I’m going to be the strong and powerful one standing before him while he kneels on the floor.
I suck in a sharp breath in shock as a pair of muscular arms suddenly lift me up from the floor. Blinking, I snap my gaze up to Draven’s face as he adjusts me in his arms until he’s holding me against his chest. He doesn’t look back at me. Doesn’t say anything. He just strides out of the cell with me in his arms. My heart is suddenly pounding in my chest.
But the storm of strange emotions that whirl through me are quickly drowned out by confusion when Draven doesn’t take a right towards the stairs. Instead, he turns left and walks down the corridor. Towards the room where the guards are still talking faintly.
I lick my lips nervously. But even if I knew what to do, I couldn’t move enough to do it right now. And I refuse to show Draven that I’m worried. So I just lie there in his arms as he stalks down the hall.
A crash echoes between the rough stone walls as he kicks the door open. It slams against the wall inside the room, making the torches vibrate in their metal holders.
Three dragon shifters in silver armor jump up from the chairs they were sitting on. One of them moves so fast that he almost knocks over the table they were seated around. Paper playing cards flutter to the ground and mugs wobble on the tabletop.
“Commander,” the brown-haired one blurts out as the three of them straighten to attention.
Confusion and surprise flit across their faces as they glance between him and me. Draven ignores them all. Twisting to the left, he sets me down on top of the table right next to the door. Since I’m as confused as the guards appear to be, I just stare at him as well. He keeps his hands right next to my shoulders for a few seconds, as if he’s getting ready to catch me if I topple off the table. But his face is an unreadable mask, and I can’t use my magic, so I have no idea what he’s feeling right now.
Once Draven is satisfied that I’m not going to fall off the table, he at last turns back to the three guards from the Silver Dragon Clan.
All three of them immediately lower their chins in deference. They might be a part of Empress Jessina and Emperor Bane’s clan, but Draven is the Commander of the Dread Legion, so they are his subordinates too.
“Commander,” they murmur in unison.
“Who handcuffed her?” Draven demands.
They exchange a worried glance.
“I did, sir,” the brown-haired one replies.
A blast of wind shoots across the room. It hits all three guards straight in the chest, making them fly backwards. The two blond ones slam into the wall behind them and collapse to the floor while the brown-haired guy hits the side of a table, flips over it, and then crashes down on the other side.
Draven stalks towards him while the two blond guards cough and struggle to their knees.
“Commander,” the dark-haired one croaks as he tries to untangle himself from the chair he hit when he slid off the table. “I’m?—”
His words are cut off as Draven yanks him up by the collar and slams his fist into the guy’s face.
From where I’m still sitting on the table, I suck in a gasp as I stare at them with wide eyes.
The guard grunts as his head snaps back. Draven drives his fist into his face again.
“Commander,” one of the blond men calls from the other side of the room. “Please?—”
Lightning cracks through the room.
Shouts of alarm echo between the walls as the blond guards jump back and throw their arms up to protect themselves. Draven doesn’t even look at them. His furious eyes are focused solely on the man before him as he punches him in the face again. Another lightning bolt cracks into the stone floor, and dark clouds churn inside the room.
Draven slams his fist into the guard’s stomach. Then he at last releases the guy’s collar. A gasp of pain rips from the man’s throat as he collapses down on the floor. But it’s cut off by another huff as Draven stomps his boot down on his back, forcing him flat against the stone floor.
Firelight from the torches casts dancing shadows over the man’s face as he blinks and tries to suck air back into his lungs.
Relief flickers in his eyes when Draven takes his boot off his back. But it’s short-lived when Draven instead places it on the back of his elbow. With his foot in place, Draven crouches down and grabs the guy’s wrist.
A cry of pain shatters from the guard’s throat as Draven lifts his arm upwards while still keeping his boot on the back of his elbow. If he pulls too high, he’s going to snap the guy’s arm in two.
“Commander, please,” the guard gasps. Pain and terror shine in his eyes as he squirms on the floor underneath Draven’s boot. “Please. I’m sorry. I?—”
Another scream of agony rips from his lungs as Draven forces his arm higher.
And when Draven at last speaks, his voice is so cold and deadly that ice skitters down my spine.
With a firm grip on the guard’s wrist, Draven stares him down with those furious golden eyes. “If you ever touch her again, I’ll break your fucking hands. She’s mine. Got it?”
My heart flips.
“Yes, sir,” the guard gasps out. “Please. I’m sorry. Commander. Please.”
Draven inches his arm upwards another breath.
A whimper spills from the guard’s mouth.
Then Draven finally releases him. He curls up on the floor, cradling his arm. The other two guards just stare at their commander, their faces white with fear, from where they still cower by the back wall.
I draw in a deep breath. I’m not sure if I have breathed at all these past few minutes.
Firelight dances over Draven’s black armor as he straightens again. Without a second look back at his victim, he simply strides straight towards me and slides one arm underneath my knees and the other behind my back.
Then he picks me up and stalks out the door without another word.