Chapter 38
Everly
When the Archmage left to check on Nevara, a stilted silence overtook the room. The air felt thin and brittle, like one wrong breath might shatter it.
So I went ahead and flung a boulder through it.
“I wasn’t going to let you get hurt,” I said plainly, bracing myself for the inevitable argument.
Sure enough, Draven shook his head, jaw tight.
“Better me hurt than you dead,” he replied, voice low and unyielding.
My stomach twisted sharply.
“And if you had died?” I demanded, heat flaring beneath my skin. The thought alone sent a spike of nausea through me, the bond flickering with the echo of fear.
“Then that still would have been preferable,” he said, far too calmly.
A furious breath punched out of me. My hands curled into fists. “To you, you selfish bastard.”
He shook his head again, slower this time, the muscle in his jaw feathering. “To Winter, actually, since your mana is still the only hope of restoring the balance, Morta Mea.”
Cold anger surged through me at the bond's edge, jagged enough that Batty shifted anxiously on my shoulder. I leaned closer to him.
“Hmm, what was it you said?” I asked, lifting a brow as the corner of my mouth tilted up in a humorless echo of a smile. “I don’t give a single forsaken damn about the risk to Winter. There is a risk to you.”
Draven looked thoroughly unamused by my imitation of his deep baritone. His lips pressed into a thin line, though the faint pulse of warmth through the bond betrayed him.
“Yes,” he acknowledged. “You over Winter, not that you bothered to heed those words when you went to the Dragon, but if it comes to me—”
“Then how could you ask me to make another choice?” I snapped, my breath hitching.
Images flashed unbidden in my mind of Draven, blood pouring from an arrow wound, features twisted in pain. Then far too still.
The panic spiked again, the weight of an avalanche falling on my chest.
“Because I won’t survive if my Court falls anyway,” Draven said, the words heavy with a grim certainty. “I am the king of Winter, tied to the land itself.”
The conversation should have been theoretical, but it didn’t feel that way in the wake of everything that was coming for us. I cast about for an argument, anything at all that would find the lie in his words, but a knock on the door to my rooms sounded out before I could even try.
“We’re busy, Noerwyn,” Draven called, at the same time I told her to come in.
Whatever camaraderie they had shared the evening of my father’s death had not stopped their everyday annoyance with one another, even if I suspected they both exaggerated said aggravation.
Still, her presence was a welcome reprieve from… all of this.
At least, until she pushed open the door, wrestling her hair into a bun as soon as she rushed through the doorway, not even bothering to scowl in Draven’s direction. Dread settled further in my gut like a splinter lodged under my fingernail.
“What’s happened?” I demanded.
“Just another attack, of course. The soldiers took care of the monsters, but there are more wounded at the site.”
“Then treat them when they get back,” I suggested, an edge to my voice I couldn’t suppress.
Her features softened. “Some of them won’t make it that far. I’ve done this before, Little Sister. My mana might not be strong, but I’m light on my feet, and the soldiers will be there anyway. I’ll just be bandaging people up and getting them ready for transport.”
“How do you know there was an attack?” Draven asked sharply.
“I was bringing salves to the infirmary, and Eryx told me. Oh, speaking of which, he’d also like to see you in the war room.”
That did nothing for the ice pooling low in my gut, but Draven only sighed.
“You couldn’t have led with that?” he gritted out.
She gave him a smile that was all false sweetness. “Errand boy isn’t really my thing. Besides, he was still getting patched up, so I’m sure you can just…” She made a shooing motion with her hand. “Frostdance on over there before he even arrives.”
I might have snorted if I wasn’t still trying to calm the rapid beating in my chest.
Draven massaged the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. “It’s called icewalking.”
My sister made a placating face. “Sure it is.”
He let out a long-suffering sigh, then turned his attention to me. “I’ll be back shortly. Don’t let Batty out before I get back.”
It was an unnecessary reminder, but one he needed to give, so I just gave him a dip of my chin, trying to force the smile I didn’t quite feel.
She has done this before. Trying as she is, I doubt even a rabid Korythid could take down your sister. I’m convinced she’s half frostbeast herself.
This time, I did let out a small laugh, or at least an echo of one.
Wynnie narrowed her eyes. “It’s rude to mindspeak in front of others.”
“Is there nothing you don’t share with your sister?” Draven demanded, slipping his boots on.
“Nothing at all,” Wynnie assured him with a vicious smile, leaving no doubt of her meaning.
I couldn’t strictly deny it, so I said nothing.
He left without commenting on that, sending me another wave of reassurance through the bond that I couldn’t quite feel in my soul.
Once the door shut behind him, Wynnie’s expression turned more sincere, lips pursed in concern. “I wanted to check on you before I left, but I’ve got to get going if I want to catch the soldiers and bully them into letting me come. Are you sure you’re all right?”
“Yes, all patched up now by the Archmage’s array of quirky crystals,” I assured her in a voice that was smaller than I wanted it to be.
She took my hand in hers, giving me a small answering smile that didn’t reach her eyes.
“Quirky is the word for everything about him,” she tried to joke, squeezing my hand in a goodbye.
I gripped her hand firmly, not ready to let her go yet. “Wait. I know you want to help, but you can do plenty of good here,” I tried one more time.
The corners of her eyes pinched, and she shook her head.
“Everly… last time, at Thistlerun, I was trapped in a goddess-damned closet while everyone under my care died screaming.” She swallowed back the thickness that had crept into her voice.
“My husband was eaten right in front of me, and I did nothing.”
“That wasn’t your fault,” I told her earnestly.
She took a breath, squaring her shoulders. “Maybe not… but I can’t do nothing again. Not when there’s something I can do to help.”
I wanted so, so badly to argue with her, but didn’t I know that feeling well? There was nothing in the world worse than feeling useless while the people around you were in danger.
Slowly, I nodded, but I still didn’t release her hand. Instead, I reached for my nightstand where my dagger rested in its thigh sheath.
“Take this, then, please,” I held it out toward her.
Wynnie gave a single decisive shake of her head. “I’m not leaving you without it.”
“I have Lumen, and a mental connection with the Frostgrave King who is never more than a… frostdance away.” A wan smile graced my lips as I willed her to take the damned weapon.
My skathryn let out her most indignant squeak yet, and I quickly tacked on, “And Batty, obviously.”
“You do have a habit of amassing deadly things,” Wynnie commented dryly, but she still didn’t reach for the dagger.
Foreboding trickled along my spine. This was one thing too many. I couldn’t handle her in danger right now. I didn’t say what we both already knew, that we had already lost too much to these monsters. That I couldn’t lose her too.
So instead, I tried for a smile, however tremulous.
“Please, take it for my sanity. It will cut through mana, so even if one of the soldiers gets handsy, you can just…” I made a stabbing motion.
“You know, maybe I wouldn’t mind one of the soldiers getting a bit handsy these days,” she shot back, but her free hand finally closed around the dagger.
I raised my eyebrows. “Any soldier in particular?”
“Not unless he finds a way to be ninety-seven percent less of an assbiscuit about my sister,” she muttered, leaving me in little doubt as to who she was referencing. “But I do need to get going.”
“I know,” I said quietly, my mouth too dry to even tease her about the Lord General. “Just… let me know when you’re back safely.”
“Oh, I will.” She smirked, putting her guard back firmly in place. “Even if you and Draven are also getting handsy, I’ll be sure to interrupt you.”
I nodded while I tried to swallow down the sick feeling creeping up my throat that I couldn’t quite explain. “Be sure that you do.”
She left with one last squeeze of my hand, the door snicking shut behind her. I stayed in my bed, staring out the window at the shimmering wards, like somehow I could see whatever dangers lie beyond.
As if staring long enough might teach me how to survive what waited on the other side.