Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
Lingering embarrassment still burns inside me, making it feel like my cheeks are on fire.
I don’t know what’s worse. The fact that Draven humiliated me and left me tied to a tree last night.
Or that he is acting now as if it didn’t even happen.
Both options make me want to simultaneously kill someone and also bury myself so far into the ground that no one will ever find me again.
The one who ended up finding me last night was Isera. Thankfully, she didn’t even comment on it. She simply summoned a sharp ice shard and cut me free, and then we just walked back in silence. Thank Mabona for small mercies, at least.
But the experience affected me more than I want to admit.
Draven humiliated me last night. And that is something that he would never do.
Something that the real Draven, my Draven, would never do.
I just want him back. I want everything to go back to the way it used to be.
The way it should be. But I have no idea how to fix it.
And worst of all is the poisonous knowledge that sears through my soul like acid.
The knowledge that it is all my fault. That I ruined everything.
“Well, that went splendidly,” Galen says, sarcasm dripping from his voice, as he and Draven stalk through the door and drop down on the two empty seats at our table.
We all pause our breakfast and turn to look at them.
Draven is scowling. Again. It seems to be the only thing he does ever since I forced that red-violet flame of hatred into his chest. On the other side of the table, Galen pulls his chair in and then leans back to rake his fingers through his blond hair. A disappointed sigh escapes his lips.
“No luck, then?” Lyra asks between bites of fruit.
“No,” Galen replies, blowing out another frustrated breath. “Same answer as yesterday. They won’t help us fight.”
Orion clicks his tongue and shoots Draven an arrogant look. “Told you so.”
The scowl on Draven’s face deepens as he turns it on the Unseelie King.
“Well, we can’t all be useless freeloaders.
Some of us actually have to contribute.” He scoffs.
“Maybe you’re used to giving up the moment things don’t go your way, but just accepting defeat isn’t how I do things.
We had to at least try to convince them again. ”
“Doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result is the very definition of insanity.”
A muscle flickers in Draven’s jaw. But before he can retort, or punch the condescending king, Isera cuts in.
“You have two choices,” she states in her effortless no-nonsense tone as she locks hard eyes on Orion. “Either you only open your mouth when you have something productive to contribute. Or I gag you.”
Dangerous light glints in his eyes as he meets her gaze. “You really shouldn’t make threats that you can’t back up, little viper.”
With her eyes still locked on his, she twists her hand in the air and summons a piece of ice.
On one end are two balls of ice while the rest of the ice continues down like a thick, long, and slightly curved rod.
Presumably, the two balls would fill Orion’s mouth and cheeks, preventing him from speaking, while the curving rod part would be shoved down his throat to truly shut him up.
The shape looks distinctly like something else, though.
A smile so sharp that it could’ve drawn blood spreads slowly across Orion’s mouth as he looks up from the suspiciously shaped piece of ice to meet Isera’s cool eyes again.
“Oh I didn’t realize that you fantasized so much about mine that you have already created a sculpture of it.
” He tilts his head, making his hair slide over his shoulder, as he studies the piece of ice.
“The length looks about right. It should have a little more girth, though.” Wicked light shines in his eyes as he meets her gaze again.
“Is this the substitute you’re using on yourself while you’re alone at night, daydreaming about me fu—”
“Alright,” Lyra suddenly interrupts, drawing out the first syllable into one long sound. “How about some fruit? Fruit is always good for, uhm… everything. Well, unless you’re like dying of a stab wound or something. In that situation, I don’t think an orange will do you much good.”
Her sudden interruption, and drastic change of subject, stuns everyone so much that we all just turn to stare at her.
Apples and oranges and several other fruits that I have never seen before roll across the elegant wooden tabletop as Lyra starts dividing the large pile that the dryads gave us to eat this morning.
The rest of the room is thankfully empty this time, since the dryads were apparently satisfied after watching us eat last night.
Draven and Galen exchange a private smile at Lyra’s diversion tactic.
As if this isn’t the first time that she has defused a conflict by doing something entirely unexpected.
Orion is now scowling at her instead of glaring at Isera.
And our resident ice lady has taken the opportunity to make her little sculpture vanish.
“Uhm, sure,” Alistair replies, still looking confused by the sudden change of topic.
Lyra slides him an apple and then flashes him a beaming smile. “Yep. You know what they say. An apple a day keeps the doctor away.”
Picking up the apple, he glances down at it in confusion and then shrugs. “Yeah, I suppose it keeps anyone away if you throw it hard enough.”
Lyra bursts out laughing. Not a measured laugh either. It’s so loud and so abrupt that she accidentally spits a little saliva on Alistair, who is sitting opposite her.
That just makes her laugh even harder.
While still laughing and gasping for breath at the same time, she leans over the table and draws her thumb over Alistair’s cheek to remove the specks of saliva before she manages to press out, “Sorry.”
Alistair blinks at her, looking stunned that she touched him so casually.
On her other side, Galen is chuckling as well while Draven lets out a huff of laughter. Even Orion appears to be fighting an amused smile. Isera just watches us all with that customary passive mask on her face while Lyra sits back down again.
Alistair and I exchange a confused glance.
I have no idea why they’re laughing. It was a pretty reasonable comment, in my opinion.
Why would an apple, of all things, keep a doctor away?
And why would you even want to keep a doctor away?
If there is one type of person that I would’ve wanted to have more access to in all my years in the Seelie Court, it’s a doctor.
“Alright,” Galen says, swallowing down his laughter before clearing his throat. “Should we get back to the problem at hand?”
“Right, sorry,” Lyra replies.
But a quick and secret smile, which the two of them share while Orion, Isera, and Alistair are busy stopping the fruit she suddenly shoved at them from rolling off the table, tells me that they both knew exactly what they were doing and that they’ve probably worked together to steer conversations like this many times before. I glance towards Draven.
A pang hits me in the chest when I see a brief flicker of regret on his features. He lost two hundred years of friendship with these people because of what the Icehearts did to him. They’ve had a whole life, with private jokes and routines like this, without him.
Quickly wiping that expression off his face, he smoothens his features before Lyra and Galen can see it and instead sits up straighter. “The dryads won’t help us, so we need to adjust our plan and move forward without them.”
“What about Lavendera?” I say, voicing the plan I’ve been mulling over since yesterday.
“I was thinking that we could try to turn her. If we could get her to switch sides, it would remove the Icehearts’ ability to use dragon steel.
And she probably also has a lot of really valuable insider information. ”
Flexing his hand, Draven cuts me a sharp look and growls, “If I want your opinion, I’ll ask for it.”
The utter disdain in his voice is like a gut punch.
My lungs cease working for a second as that crushing wave of black rage and despair and hatred inside me threatens to suffocate me.
That small spark of hope flickers dangerously.
I cling to it, desperately willing it to survive.
Because without it, I don’t think I will.
“It’s a pretty good idea, though,” Alistair says, keeping his expression casual as he glances at Draven. “Worth trying.”
If I wasn’t fighting so hard not to drown in the dark ocean inside me right now, I would’ve given him a grateful smile.
“It won’t work,” Draven replies. But the sharp bite is gone from his voice now.
Leaning back in his chair, he rakes a tired hand through his black hair.
“If there is one thing I’m certain of, it’s that Lavendera won’t turn against the Icehearts.
She’s been with them for centuries. She was there before I even became the Commander of the Dread Legion. She’s utterly loyal to them.”
I want to ask why, but I don’t want to hear Draven’s perfect voice fill with disdain and watch his eyes flare with hatred again, so I keep my mouth shut. Someone else thankfully asks, though.
“Why?” Isera asks, watching us all through slightly narrowed eyes. “Why is she so loyal to them?”
Draven shrugs. “I don’t know.”
Silence falls over our table. Morning sunlight streams in through the open door to my left, illuminating the otherwise empty room inside this massive hollowed out trunk.
I shift my weight on my chair. Blowing out a small breath, I manage to force the darkness inside my soul back enough that my chest stops aching.