8. Maddy
Chapter 8
Maddy
K ain's words echo in my head as I walk on.
"You thrive on information, princess. It's what you do." He's right—and there's one fae here who has all the information I could ever want on ice-fae magic.
The thought of approaching Brynhild makes my stomach clench, but I have to try. She's not just any ice-fae—she's one of the most powerful in Yggdrasil .
I need to be calm when I ask her. Clearheaded. Not the frustrated version of myself I currently exist as. Which means I need food and friendship.
I spend the evening with Sarra, and it helps enormously. Her workshop feels like the eye of a storm—peaceful despite the chaos.
While we share a huge plate of bread and cheese with cold meat cuts, she explains the rules of kubb, a game from the Earth Court that involves throwing wooden blocks and strategy. Her description paints a picture of community I've never known—crowds gathering to watch matches, children learning from elders, friendly rivalries spanning generations. I find myself aching for that kind of childhood, for games and laughter instead of silent, lonely corridors and fear.
"You would have loved the summer tournaments," she says, her eyes bright with memories. "Everyone brings food, and the matches can last for days."
I try to imagine it—being surrounded by people who want you there, having something to look forward to beyond survival. It sounds like a dream.
I black out in the middle of dinner, the familiar darkness taking me mid-bite. When I come to, Sarra's there, ready to repeat whatever I missed. The cheese is sweet and nutty on my tongue, and as I listen to her continue her stories, a profound sense of calm settles over me.
Part of it, I know, is the relief of knowing these blackouts won't kill me. But it's more than that. This room, with its tools and projects and Sarra's steady presence, has become a haven within Featherblade.
"You know, I almost don't want to be able to see the Bear Wing," I say on a sigh.
"So you don't have to share living space with someone who tried to kill you?" Sarra asks, not looking up from her cheese.
"Well, there is that. But also, I love this room. Thanks for letting me turn your workshop into my bedroom," I tell her.
She laughs. "As if I had a choice?"
"Hm, maybe not." I grin. "But I appreciate it all the same."
"You're always welcome here, Maddy. You're my only friend here too, you know."
I want to ask her about the staff, and if anything else has happened, as her honest, open expression beams at me. But I'm sure it will spoil the moment, so instead, I lean forward and hug her.
After Sarra goes to bed, I settle deeper into the furs and close my eyes. I have to store everything that has happened over the last few days, and I'm craving the cool, familiar corridors of the gallery.
I make myself start at the beginning of yesterday.
The ambush.
The sculpting room is alive with energy as I relive the attack, jets of water shooting and dancing before me. I remember it carefully, making sure to capture not just the actions but the fear, the anger, and the way Thyrvi came when I needed her most.
And Kain. He showed up for me too. He moved with Thyrvi like one terrifying force, tearing into my enemies.
And then… when everyone was gone, and I touched his bleeding skin…
The memory hits me like a physical force. Heat floods me as I remember his eyes on me, dark with need, the way his body trembled with restraint. Even without touch, the power of his presence alone, the command in his voice, was enough to make me submit. To make me beg. The memory of my own surrender should shame me, but instead it sends desire coursing through my veins, strong enough to yank me out of the gallery and back to the present moment, my body alive with desperate want.
My breath comes in short gasps, my skin hypersensitive against the furs as I look around in shock. I've never relived a memory so strongly that it's sent me back to reality.
But fuck… I've never relived such a physical memory.
Never had such a physical reaction to a memory.
I press my thighs together, seeking pressure, relief, anything to ease this ache.
I want his hands on me. His mouth. His everything. The fact that I can't have it, that his touch would burn me to ash, only makes the wanting worse. I imagine what it would be like to kiss him, to feel those lips that speak such dangerous promises. Would it be worth the pain? Part of me believes it might be.
My fingers dig into the furs as I try to steady my breathing. This is madness. He's dangerous. Cursed. Bent on revenge against the gods themselves.
But my treacherous body doesn't care about any of that. It remembers the heat of him, the raw power he emanates, the way he made me feel both protected and possessed without laying a finger on me.
I slip my hand beneath my clothes. Every nerve ending is alive, desperate for touch. I should be stronger than this, but the memory of Kain overwhelms my self-control—the raw hunger in his eyes as he watched me, the way his voice roughened when he commanded me, how his whole body trembled with the need to touch me even as he kept that cruel distance between us. I imagine his hands on me, burning hot and demanding, and my back arches off the furs. I bite my lip hard to keep quiet as my fingers move faster, picturing the way he looked at me like he wanted to devour me whole. When release finally comes, it's with his name caught behind my teeth, my body shaking with the force of it.
The afterglow fades too quickly, leaving me more frustrated than before. Instead of sating my need, touching myself has only intensified it. The fact that we can never really touch, that his curse means we'll always have this maddening distance between us, makes me want him even more. It's like a fever I can't sweat out, a hunger that grows stronger the more I try to feed it.
I stare at the wooden-beamed ceiling, breathing hard, body pulsing.
I have to go back to the gallery. I have to store the memories of all the other important things that happened after the glade.
But all I want to do is push myself to my limit over and over, to pretend it's Kain. To live a fantasy in my head so vivid that it might sate this longing, if only for a short time.
My hand begins to move again, and I give a growl of effort as I slide it up my stomach and then sit up. I cross my legs, fisting both hands on my knees, and close my eyes.
Get a grip, Maddy.
Ignoring the ache pounding through me, I force myself back to the gallery.
As soon as I'm in the icy corridor, a statue appears before me. An arrow. It's the one I just made, and I tentatively touch it to check what I stored before my body pulled me back.
As soon as the ambush is over, I step away from the statue, ending the memory.
I have to store everything else.
The tree climb comes first, then breaking into the Gryphon's Nest. I remember Brynhild carefully, capturing her secretive movements as she took the coins from the book she shouldn't have had access to. There's something important there, but I'm too exhausted to puzzle it out now.
The vault deserves special attention—all those wonders, the ancient magic thrumming through the air. But when I try to remember the riddle, I realize with alarm that the exact words are already growing fuzzy, blurred by what came after. The vision from the melted wolf statue.
I realize with relief that I don't need to relive and store this memory—it's already contained in the wolf.
Stepping back, I see I've created a small ice sculpture of a dagger that barely reaches my waist.
It takes little time to create a statue for today, Inga's bear, the coward brands, and Selma's val-tivar being the main things of note. The statue is of the crate we pushed when I'm done.
Reality forms before me, everything safely stowed in the gallery. My body is still aching, restlessness flowing through my veins.
I get up and walk around the workshop.
I wanted calm tonight. I wanted to rid myself of frustration and distraction.
Side by side, I have the memory of Kain in the glade, taking me to the verge of a sexual awakening I didn't know was possible, and then the same fierce male plunging a dagger into my sister's chest.
I groan, and say the words I need to hear aloud.
"Listen to your mind, Maddy. You should fear Kain."
The thing is, though, I don't. Right now, in the safety of this room, alone, I don't fear him at all.
I want him more than I want anything else. Even control.
If he stepped into this room now, I'd give up anything he asked me to, just to have him tell me how to touch myself, to see his eyes darken with lust as he moves as dangerously close to me as he is able. To see him close his fingers around himself and roar with passion when he sees me come.
My fingers are slick with my wetness again, and I don't even know when I pushed my hand back into my underwear.
I don't care.
I collapse onto the furs, giving in to my mind. To my desire.
Tomorrow. Tomorrow I'll see Brynhild, and I'll start learning how to control my power properly.
But tonight… tonight I'm going to lie here and remember the feelings Kain caused to ignite within me, the way his voice alone could make me feel.
And I'll let myself believe wholeheartedly that he's lying awake too, burning with this same impossible need, bringing himself to a release over and over, wishing he was with me.