Chapter 15 - A Thread of Frost
Callan
Who the fuck had the nerve to attack me outside of Dyga?
This was calculated. This was my home—or it had been for most of my life.
They’d targeted my guards and Wrenora first, saving me for last—a gross underestimation of my strength.
I was certain by their apparel they were somehow related to the ambush in Mariss.
This time, the attack had been at the cost of two of my guards’ lives, and Wrenora had taken a poisoned bolt to the arm.
I pulled her onto my horse and left my remaining two guards behind as I raced to the palace.
My parents would have healers. I just prayed she could hold out long enough.
I had to steady her from falling, looping an arm around her shoulders and wedging her backside between my thighs.
Snapping the reins, my horse lurched into a hard run, tearing down the road to Dyga with unbridled haste.
Every breath she took strained against my arm as I kept her tight against my breastplate.
I counted the minutes; it was taking too long.
I was desperate to check on her as her breaths grew shallower, but I didn’t dare stop.
Nearly running over the guards at the main gate, my horse slid to a stop as one of the grooms ran out from the stables to greet me. He paused when he saw who I was. I didn’t have time to explain myself. Or rather, Wrenora didn’t have time.
I burst through the door on the north side of the castle, letting my helm melt away.
I’d lived in this palace my entire life until my magic fully manifested, so these elves knew who I was.
In fact, most of them scrambled out of my way as a woman rushed forward, ushering me into the infirmary.
A healer mage was waiting, brow furrowed in concern.
“Lay her here,” she said, pointing to a cot along the sidewall.
“She’s been shot with a poisoned arrow.”
The woman stooped to get a better look at Wrenora’s arm before she jerked her head up to mine.
“A human?”
“Does it matter?” I asked with death in my voice. “Heal her.”
Wrenora’s eyes fluttered, yanking at a thread in my chest that had been pulling tighter and tighter over the last several weeks, becoming almost uncomfortable as it wound itself in knots around my ribs.
The mage moved her hands over Wrenora’s arm, cool white waves of magic coalescing around the wound under her hands. She clutched the crossbow bolt before yanking it from Wrenora’s flesh.
A wail of pain pulled the thread so tight I extended a gauntleted hand out and wrapped it around the healer’s throat.
“Hurt her again...” I said between clenched teeth.
What was wrong with me? First, I’d lost sleep being so close to her and not close enough at the same time, and now I was threatening healers who were only doing what needed to be done.
“Highness...please...” the healer rasped out.
Wrenora squirmed on the cot in pain. Letting my armor melt away, I rested my gloved hand on her leg, hoping to calm her.
And maybe it was to calm myself, as well.
It felt like hundreds of needles stabbing into my skin seeing her in pain.
I’d seen injured elves, comrades dying from battle wounds, my guards being killed in the last two attacks on my life.
My own body was covered in a spider web of scars.
But this? I was physically unable to be more than a few paces from her, my mind a twisted, treacherous maze of emotions.
Perhaps I’d been poisoned as well, because at that moment, Wrenora’s life was all that mattered. Except, I shouldn’t care about a human woman at all.
“Just fucking heal her.”
“I’m doing everything I can, Highness,” the mage said with a strained voice as she pressed her magic into Wrenora’s chest, squeezing her eyes closed.
She pulled at the poison like cords of dark smoke, drawing what looked like black blood from Wrenora’s skin.
It oozed from her chest, nose, mouth, and ears as the healer pulled and pulled.
“What...is that?”
“A type of magical poison. It attaches itself to a mage’s natural abilities, and it’s trapped beneath her shackles.
” Beads of sweat had bloomed on the healer’s brow as she continued to push her magic into Wrenora and draw more of the dark essence away.
“This poison was meant for you, Highness. It’s meant to target powerful mages, to destroy their magic long enough for someone to kill them with a blade. ”
I clenched my teeth. Who was trying to kill me?
And who would do it so close to my ancestral home?
It was brazen to attack me on the road into Dyga, which was usually crowded with people wandering into the city during all times of the year.
Admittedly, it hadn’t been today, which was suspicious on its own.
This time, when the mage pressed her magic into Wrenora’s chest, the essence was almost completely clear.
“There we are,” she said.
I sighed in relief, drawing a glance from the mage.
“Almost clean.”
I couldn’t pry my eyes from Wrenora’s. They remained woefully closed, her dark lashes resting on her cheeks.
At least the pained expression she’d had a moment ago had smoothed away.
I hadn’t been this close to her before, and I could see every freckle on her nose and cheeks.
The tiny scar on her chin. I reached without thinking, pushing some of her copper hair from her face with my gloved hand.
“She’ll be alright, Highness.” I met the mage healer’s warm gaze. “Shocked you’d bring a human here with your father’s edict.”
Honestly, I was as well. The last time I’d been to Dyga, I hadn’t left on the best of terms. I never planned to return, much less to bring a human with me. Not with how my father felt about them. He’d made his position very clear.
“She should be completely healed.”
I met the healer’s gaze. I’d been lost in my thoughts and hadn’t realized she’d mended Wrenora’s arm entirely.
“Yet, she sleeps.”
“She’ll sleep for a while. There may still be tiny bits of poison her body must fight off, and only rest can help her now.”
I didn’t wait for more of an explanation before I scooped Wrenora into my arms.
It wasn’t until I was halfway down the hall that I realized I hadn’t put my armor back on.
Her head lulled against my chest, nothing but my tunic and shirt between our skin.
The heat of her cheek soaked through, sending goosebumps down my arms. So much decadent warmth. It was overwhelming and delicious...
And debilitating.
Unable to take another step, I stopped short in the hall and gazed at the top of Wrenora’s fiery head of hair.
I was frozen in place. Fear and need and an unrestrained desperation to feel her skin against mine flashed through me, hot and freezing all at once.
It was so powerful, I swayed on my feet, slowly sinking to my knees before I leaned forward to lay her on the marble floor in front of me.
What was I doing? I shouldn’t be carrying her without my armor.
I couldn’t have her so close to me, but that’s all I wanted—all I needed.
Needed like the breaths tearing themselves from my lungs in frantic gasps.
I pitched to the side, bracing myself with my arms as footsteps rushed down the hall toward me.
What was wrong with me? I couldn’t...see straight. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t...
“Callan!” It was my mother’s voice, the gentle tapping of her silk slippers joining the rush of footsteps. “Callan, what’s happened?”
I rolled to my back, the nearest elf stepping away from me when he realized who I was. One elf reached forward, only to be grabbed by her shoulder and yanked back.
“You can’t touch him. He’s the banished prince.”
I might have been angry at the disgusted tone used, but my world was spinning. Nothing but blurry faces with soulless eyes weaving in and out of my vision.
“Wrenora...” I reached toward her, my hand hovering in the air.
“She’ll be placed in my care,” my mother said as she shooed someone else away, pointing to Wrenora beside me as she whispered in an ear.
I was left lying on the floor of the hall, everyone too nervous to come near me.
It was better that way. After a few long, deep breaths, I was able to push myself up and onto my feet, using the wall for help.
I managed to stumble to my old rooms, my head screaming in pain.
I didn’t make it into my sleeping chamber, instead sprawling out on the massive sofa so similar to the one I had in my study back at the Ice Fortress.
Then, as if swallowed whole by a starless night sky, I plunged into darkness.
––––––––
I woke with a start. I couldn’t remember everything that happened, but I could remember Wrenora had been hurt. I sat up slowly because that’s all I could manage, checking that my gloves were still in place and my face mask pulled over my nose.
I pressed a hand to my chest, remembering the heat of Wrenora’s cheek. The strange pulling thread of pain was gone, leaving nothing but a cold numbness behind—the usual frozen walls around my emotions. My mother’s voice soaked through the murky memories. “She’ll be placed in my care.”
I was moving before I thought better of it.
My mother’s apartment was farther down the hall, thankfully nowhere near my father’s.
I knocked, but after a few seconds I grew impatient, concerned someone would see me—or worse, my father would find me before I had a chance to find Wrenora.
I decided I didn’t need to be invited in. I was her son for fuck’s sake.
The curtains were drawn, a warm fire crackling on the far side gilded my mother’s white hair like spun gold. She turned to look at me, her hand slipping from a lump of blankets on her sofa. As she walked toward me, she held a finger to her lips.
“Your sweet human is still sleeping. I was going to come collect you when she woke,” she whispered, the corner of her lips turning up.
She guided me toward her adjoining drawing room, motioning for a servant to fetch refreshments.
The room hadn’t changed since the last time I’d been in it.
The same violet walls and matching furnishings trimmed in silver made everything look dipped in frost. She led me to a small sitting area with three chairs and a table crafted from enchanted ice shards, similar to my fortress.
I pulled my mask down under my chin, accepting the sadness in her eyes as they passed over the two long scars down the right side of my face.
She hadn’t seen them in person, only hearing about my injuries after I’d been attacked.
She’d sent healer mages to help me, but nothing had worked.
The weapon was imbued with some sort of magic and had left behind an energy signature that no healer could remove.
“I’ve missed you dreadfully, Callan.”
“Have you been well?” I ignored her comment. She knew I missed her. It hadn’t been my choice to be banished to my frozen lair in the north. I’d been forced to leave.
“As well as I can be without you here.” The hint of a smile turned up her lips. “I’ve taken to forcing my poor ladies-in-waiting to keep me entertained.”
I smiled, all the fear and frustration of the last months washing away at the sound of her voice.
“Father’s been leaving you alone, I hope?”
“As much as possible. There’s always a banquet I must attend, but otherwise...” She rolled her eyes with a small grin, but it didn’t last.
My ruthless father did not deserve her. Their marriage had been negotiated out of desperation for the dwindling population of frost elves in the realm.
The royal family—my father’s family—made it very hard for her to refuse.
Impossible, in fact. While she was a queen by name, she was a prisoner in every other sense.
“There are strange rumors circulating. An uprising seems to be gathering traction, and your father has been less than pleased.”
“I’ve heard the same.” I took a deep breath before I continued. “I’m afraid there’s more to it than rumors.”
“It was a matter of time after the way your father handled things,” she said, tipping her head to the side. “Now then...a human girl?”
I rolled my eyes. That hadn’t taken her long. “I had the audacity to bring a thrall woman into my father’s palace.”
My mother shook her head slowly, her coy smile returning. “What exactly were you thinking?”
“That I need her shackles removed,” I said, meeting her gaze with determination.
Removing shackles was not something my father approved of. I’d known of him allowing my mother to remove the shackles from only two thralls, and both required significant begging and exorbitant bribery.
“Your father won’t—”
“I’m going to ask that you not request his permission.”
The color drained from her already pale face, eyes going wide. “You know I can’t do that.”
A servant entered and set a tea service on the table as my mother and I watched each other in silence while steaming liquid was poured into our cups with excessive slowness. When the servant finally finished, she bowed and scurried away, leaving my mother and I to talk candidly again.
“If the king finds out I’ve removed shackles without his permission—”
“You’ll tell him you did it under duress,” I said, my eyes never leaving my mother’s. “You’ll tell him I forced you.”