Chapter 38
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Being back in Frostfell is strange. I feel like I was an entirely different person when I lived here.
No, actually, it feels like the person I was back then is two entire personalities ago.
I changed a lot when we were stuck in the Unseelie Court.
And then I changed again, even more, after we left it.
Standing in the shadows of a building, I lean my back against the cool stone wall and gaze up at the gleaming Ice Palace above. Stars glitter in the black night sky above, making the palace shine even brighter.
When I first arrived here after the Atonement Trials, I was like an ignorant child who stubbornly thought she had everything figured out but who in reality knew nothing of the world.
I still blindly believed that everything I’d been told all my life was the truth because it hadn’t even occurred to me that I was living in a bubble where all the available information was censored by someone else.
And on top of that, I was angry, hurt, and terrified of my feelings for Draven.
Looking back on it now, there are things I wish I hadn’t said. Like when I called him a coward for not standing against the Icehearts. Or how I reacted when he told me that I was his fated mate. And some things that I wish I had said sooner, like—
Regret hits me like a gut punch.
My parents’ lifeless eyes flash before my eyes.
The pools of blood.
The silver hair turning red.
The fear and shock on their faces.
The hatred in their eyes when they looked at me right before they died.
The empty doorstep.
The potted plants still in the windows.
Throwing my hand out, I brace it against the cool stone wall behind me in order to keep myself upright as the darkened street around me suddenly sways.
I try to gasp in a breath, but my lungs no longer seem to work.
Agony stabs through my chest as waves of grief and regret crash down over me. I feel like I’m suffocating.
“You okay?”
It takes enormous effort to get my eyes to focus on the face in front of me. Alistair has rounded the corner and stopped short right in front of me. Worry flickers in his eyes as he looks at me, waiting for an answer.
Oh Goddess, pull yourself together.
Straightening from the wall, I pretend to dust off my clothes while looking down so that he can’t see my eyes. After summoning a small flame of warm yellow joy, I shove it into the building across the street and straight into the chest of whoever is in the upstairs room there.
Warm sparkling pleasure wraps around me like a hug, and I drag in a deep breath of relief as my lungs finally start working again.
With effort, I cut off the connection to my magic, and look up to meet Alistair’s gaze.
I know that I just altered whoever is inside the house forever, but I still can’t bring myself to care.
I desperately needed that boost. In fact, my entire soul is pulsing insistently, begging me to do it again.
It takes all of my willpower to ignore that urge.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I reply, trying to sound as casual as possible.
Alistair holds my gaze for another second, looking unconvinced. But in the end, he just shrugs. “Alright.”
I send a silent prayer of thanks to Mabona that he didn’t press the issue.
Goddess above, I really need to get it together.
The devastating grief and the suffocating regret about not prioritizing my parents have been hitting me more frequently than I expected.
I thought that I would just feel that overwhelming sense of regret that afternoon when I broke down in Orion’s castle and then I would move past it.
But it’s not that easy.
I can go hours without thinking of it, without even remembering that they’re dead, and then the smallest thing can just set it off.
Seeing some random stranger with her parents.
The smell of a certain type of wood smoke that my dad came home smelling after work.
Hearing a metallic rattling sound because it sounds like when my mom grabbed her box of needles to mend something.
Or, like just now, when I was thinking about the things I wish I had told Draven sooner.
Another stab of agony hits my chest, and I clench my jaw to suppress the urge to use my magic again.
Goddess fucking damn it. I need to keep it together. I need to be stronger.
Forcing the regret back, I instead breathe in the roaring fury and hatred inside me until I feel that merciless fire crackling through my whole soul.
I am not the weak link. I refuse to be the weak link.
So I will pull myself together.
And I will get my fucking revenge.
“She sure is pretty,” a sly voice suddenly says from my left.
I almost jump in surprise. Trying to compose myself, I give my head a quick shake and then flick a glance in the direction of the voice. However, I am not the one who looks most startled.
Opposite me, Alistair snaps his head in the direction of the voice.
Orion Nightbane has glided out of the shadows unseen, as if he is a living breathing slice of the night itself. Sly amusement glitters in his eyes as he nods towards Lyra while meeting Alistair’s gaze.
“What?” Alistair replies. Blinking, he shifts his gaze between the Unseelie King and the three dragon shifters who are making their way towards us along the darkened road. “Lyra?”
Since Isera is leaning against the wall a little farther down behind us, and therefore isn’t even in the direction Orion nodded, the only person he could possibly have been referring to when he said she is Lyra.
Orion smirks at Alistair. “You blush a lot when you look at her.”
I flick a glance at him, and sure enough, our threatening fire wielder has a hint of red staining his cheeks.
“No, I don’t,” he splutters.
Orion arches an eyebrow. “So you don’t think she’s pretty?”
“No. I mean, yes. I mean—”
“That’s not what a woman wants to hear.”
“Of course I think she’s pretty! Look at her.” Alistair throws his arm out, pointing in her direction, while that adorably flustered look on his face intensifies. “She’s like the sun. All bright and warm and gorgeous and—”
The sly smirk on Orion’s face deepens, and Alistair starts blushing again.
“You…” Alistair growls, and a ball of fire flares up in his palm. “I will fucking incinerate you.”
“Stop tormenting him,” Isera says from her place by the wall. Her eyes gleam as she slides her gaze to Orion. “Or I’ll show you what real torture looks like.”
“Oh, I’ve tortured far more people than you ever have, little viper.” Orion flashes her a sharp smile. “So don’t make threats you can’t back up.”
“Do you think she heard me?” Alistair hisses to me under his breath while casting a panicked look towards Lyra.
I briefly shift my gaze to her, Draven, and Galen, trying to estimate the distance, before meeting his eyes again and shaking my head. “No. They’re too far away.”
Relief washes over Alistair’s face, and he extinguishes the fire in his palm.
When they reach us, Draven shoots him an exasperated look. “Getting along fine, I see.”
“Like fire and highly flammable alcohol,” Alistair replies.
A short chuckle escapes Draven before he snaps his mouth shut and cuts off the sound. He wasn’t a big fan of Alistair and Isera in the beginning, but it looks like they’ve really grown on him.
“What did Artemesia say?” Isera asks from where she’s still leaning against the wall a short distance away.
“Diana is with us,” Draven confirms. “She has agreed to create a distraction that will draw out Bane and Jessina.”
Relief flows through me. Followed by wicked anticipation that makes my blood sing.
The first preparation is in place. Soon, I will take the Icehearts’ most precious person from them.
And that is just the beginning. I will take everything from them.
Their power. Their clan. Everyone they have ever cared about.
I will wipe every trace of them from this earth until it will be as if they never existed at all. And then, I will have my revenge.
“Good,” Isera replies. “Then let’s get this over with.”
“Selena and I will head to Ferver’s house so I can show her where it is,” Draven says. “Galen, you take Lyra and Alistair to scout out the taverns. I trust your judgement in finding the one that best suits our needs.”
Confidence seems to flow through Galen, making him straighten his shoulders a little more, as he nods in acknowledgement.
Draven shifts his gaze to Orion and Isera. “And I trust you two not to kill each other while you handle your mission.”
She just meets his eyes with stone cold seriousness. “I can’t promise that.”
A groan rips from Draven’s chest, and he rubs his forehead. “Azaroth’s fucking flame.”
“Don’t worry, you brooding beast,” Orion says, a devilish smile on his dangerously beautiful face as he flicks a look full of challenge back at Isera. “I can handle her.”
She just snickers. Still leaning against the wall with her arms crossed nonchalantly over her chest, she watches him with sharp eyes but thankfully doesn’t escalate the conflict.
“Alright,” Draven says. Drawing himself up to his full height, he looks from face to face while that effortless power that he wielded as the Commander of the Dread Legion rolls off his shoulders like pulsing black storm clouds.
“This is it. We’ve played defense until now.
Recruiting allies. Trying to make plans to stay one step ahead of them.
Now, it’s time to strike. So I expect all of you to keep your head in the game. ”
A thrumming sense of anticipation mixed with solemn seriousness sweeps over us all as we stand there gathered in the shadows on a darkened street far below the glittering Ice Palace. Warm night winds smelling of stone and ice roll down from the mountain. I draw in a deep breath.
Draven meets each of our eyes in turn.
“It’s time to take the fight to them.”