Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
I t isn’t until we’ve already ascended the stairs and are halfway through the first ice corridor on the ground floor of the castle that I’ve recovered enough, both physically and mentally, to tell Draven that I can walk on my own. He sets me down gently but keeps sharp eyes on me, as if he’s worried that I’m going to collapse.
This strange protective behavior makes my heart squeeze hard in my chest and my head feel like it’s full of twisting vines. This protectiveness is so at odds with the fact that he collared me with iron and drained my magic not three days ago.
Furrowing my brows, I study him where he’s still standing right in front of me. Faelight gems have been set into the ceiling, making the entire ice corridor look like it’s covered by a blanket of sparkling stars. The soft white light glitters against the ice walls and casts faint reflections over Draven’s impassive face. I narrow my eyes at him.
He doesn’t look like he cares. But he… acts like it.
“Why?” I ask.
A ruthless glint appears in his eyes. “Because I don’t like it when people touch what belongs to me.”
I grind my teeth. “I don’t belong to you.”
“Yes, you do. In every way that matters.”
“Enough!” I snap, suddenly feeling exhausted and fed up and vulnerable and everything all at once. Throwing my arms out, I shake my head in frustration while I hold Draven’s gaze. “I know that you’re baiting me. I know that you’re deliberately saying that to make me angry. So just stop.”
To my surprise, he doesn’t try to deny it. Doesn’t argue. Doesn’t call me delusional or try to play it off. Instead, he just watches me in silence with those intense eyes of his.
And that is somehow worse.
I want to scream. I want to crawl into bed and pull the covers over my head. I want to murder someone. I want to bawl my eyes out.
I have never felt this off-kilter in my entire life. In the span of a few minutes, my entire life was turned upside down. Everything I thought I knew turned out to be false, and everything I had was ripped away from me. And I haven’t even had time to process it. I passed out and then I woke up and was arrested for murder, and now… this. I just need the world to stop spinning out of control for one fucking second.
“Why did you do all of this?” I demand, my voice coming out more high-pitched and desperate than I would’ve liked.
“You’re going to have to narrow that down a little.”
“Why did you try to stop me from winning the Atonement Trials?”
“I’ve already told you. I was trying to protect you. From this.”
“Then why didn’t you just say that from the beginning?” All of my conflicting emotions are just bubbling over and pouring out of me like a raging flood now, so I end up practically screaming the words at him. “Everything would’ve been so much easier if you had just told me that the Atonement Trials were a sham!”
Frustration flits across his face. “Don’t you think I know that?”
“Then why didn’t you?”
Draven opens his mouth as if to reply, but apparently, he doesn’t have a good answer to that question, because he just closes his mouth again and flexes his hand in frustration while annoyance blows across his features again.
However, before I can press the matter further, footsteps thud from farther down the corridor.
“Commander,” a voice calls. A moment later, a messenger rounds the corner and skids to a halt a few steps away from us. He draws in a deep breath. “The Emperor and Empress have requested your presence in the throne room.”
A muscle flickers in Draven’s jaw, and for a second, he only continues staring me down. As if he wants to continue our argument. But then he forces out a long breath and at last turns to meet the messenger’s gaze.
“I figured as much,” Draven replies. He jerks his chin at the messenger in dismissal while taking a firm grip on my arm. “Tell them that I’ll be right there. I just need to return my pet to where she belongs.”
I whip my head around to glare at him, but before I can get a single word out, the messenger clears his throat.
“Your, uhm…” He trails off, his gaze flitting around the empty corridor for a second as he squirms uncomfortably. “Your immediate presence has been requested, sir.”
Draven clenches his jaw. Then he grinds out, “Fine.”
Relief washes over the messenger’s face, and he gives Draven a nod. “Please, follow me.”
I frown at the messenger’s back as he turns around and starts down the hall in the direction from which he came. Draven obviously already knows how to get to the throne room, since he apparently lives in this castle. So there would be no need to have someone escort him there like this. Except as a power play to remind him that he can be summoned at will. Which strikes me as a little odd.
Draven’s hand is still around my arm when he starts forward, pulling me with him. Since I was lost in thought, I stumble a little before I manage to fall into step beside him.
“Behave,” he commands, his voice hard.
Snapping my gaze to him, I’m just about to growl back at him that I am not his pet. But the expression on his face stops me. His voice might be cold and ruthless, and his words might be an order, but when he meets my gaze, it looks more like a plea.
My gaze drifts to the messenger’s back again where he strides along the corridor in front of us.
A sense of uneasiness slithers through my stomach. Whatever is going on right now obviously involves things that I don’t understand yet. And I don’t want to make the same mistake of charging blindly into something and screwing up my chances of escape.
So instead of snapping at Draven out of stubborn defiance and stupid pride, I shift my gaze back to his and give him a slow nod to signal that I understood the warning.
Relief pulses across his face for a second before that cold ruthless mask is back on his features again. But he gives my arm a small squeeze before he releases it.
We continue towards the throne room in silence after that.
I try to memorize the path we take as we weave our way through the sparkling ice castle. And I count the guards too. Most corridors we venture through are deserted, and the few times we meet someone, it’s people who are dressed like servants. But to my great annoyance, most stairwells we pass are guarded by dragon shifters in silver armor. I add their positions to my mental map anyway.
Once the grand double doors to the throne room at last appear before us, I shift my gaze back to Draven again. He is walking with his back straight and his chin raised, and that usual expression of ruthless power is firmly on his features. I desperately want to reach out with my magic and push at his emotions to see what he’s really feeling.
“Your Imperial Majesties,” the messenger says, his voice echoing in the high-ceilinged hall, as we walk through the open doors and into the throne room. Taking a step to the side, he sweeps his arm out towards Draven. “Commander Draven Ryat.”
Draven just keeps stalking right past the messenger without even glancing at him, as if he can’t be bothered to give him even a second of his precious time. The messenger doesn’t seem to mind. He just bows to the Icehearts and then backs out of the throne room again. Casting a glance over my shoulder, I find him closing the massive ice doors behind us while Draven and I continue towards the dais ahead.
I shift my gaze back to the two thrones ahead right before an ominous boom echoes through the room, signaling that the doors have now been shut.
Jessina and Bane Iceheart are sitting on their imposing ice thrones atop the dais. As usual, both of them are wearing impeccable clothes in shades of silver. Jessina’s white hair has been pinned up with sparkling pins while Bane’s black hair hangs straight down his back like a smooth black waterfall. His black eyes are fixed on me while Jessina’s pale gray eyes study Draven. Their massive silver wings rustle slightly as they spread them out wider.
Draven keeps his own wings tucked in tightly. I don’t know enough about dragon shifter culture to understand all of the subtleties, but this somehow feels like another power play. As if the Icehearts are spreading their wings wider to show dominance, and Draven is keeping his folded to signal that he has no intention of challenging them.
Five paces from the dais, Draven stops. It’s the exact same place that Isera, Alistair, and I were standing in during the fake winner’s ceremony three days ago. At just the thought of it, I get an overwhelming urge to reach up and tug at the iron collar around my throat again.
However, before I can so much as lift my hand, Draven bows to his monarchs.
There are several other gestures that I would much rather be showing the Icehearts right now, but since I have decided to refrain from being stupid for no reason, I curtsy as well. Jessina snickers faintly, which informs me that my ability to curtsy properly apparently hasn’t improve while I’ve been unconscious.
I remain standing half a step behind Draven as we straighten again.
“Selena is awake,” Emperor Bane says without preamble.
I start slightly and snap my gaze to him. This seems like an important summons, so the fact that that was the first thing out of his mouth takes me by surprise. His black eyes are still fixed on my face, and I have to resist the urge to fidget.
But Draven just nods and replies, “Yes.”
“Alistair and Isera are not,” Empress Jessina fills in. She narrows her eyes slightly as she holds Draven’s gaze. “Which means that you didn’t drain as much energy from her as you should have.”
“I know,” he replies. “Since Selena is weaker than both Isera and Alistair, I didn’t want to take too much the first time and risk having her unconscious for weeks.”
He turns to me and slides a hand up my throat. On instinct, I try to jerk back, but his fingers close around my throat, keeping me firmly in place. My heart lurches and then pounds hard against my ribs as a cruel smile spreads across his lips while he leans a little closer to me. There is no warmth, nothing compassionate, in his eyes as he locks them on me.
“That is a mistake I’m going to have to rectify later today,” Draven says, his voice as vicious as his smile.
My heart hammers in my chest as I stare up at him. Is he going back on his word? In that bedroom earlier, he said that he wasn’t going to drain my magic again. But one displeased comment from the Icehearts, and he’s already promising to do exactly that.
His eyes betray nothing as he holds my gaze for another second. Then he abruptly releases my throat and turns back to Jessina and Bane.
“But I assume that’s not why you summoned me,” he says.
Bane slides his dark eyes to Draven. “No, it’s not. Three high-ranking lords from our clan, all with important positions within our court, were murdered today.”
“Among them was Jonah,” Empress Jessina picks up. Her pale eyes burn with fury as she clenches and unclenches her hand. “He was the most competent Master of the Treasury we have had in centuries. I cannot even articulate what a devastating loss his death is for our administration.”
Bane nods in agreement while drumming his fingers on the armrest of his throne. “Three important people killed inside the palace… This can only mean one thing.” He clenches his jaw. “The Red Hand is back.”
It takes all of my willpower to keep a neutral expression on my face. But inside the safety of my own head, my mind is churning.
“Yes, it would appear so,” Draven replies.
Jessina grinds her teeth. “I thought you said that the Red Hand would never dare to show his face again after you almost caught him last time. That he would spend the rest of his life in hiding and that the human rebellion had been crushed for good.”
My heart skips a beat. Human rebellion? There are humans who are trying to overthrow the Iceheart Dynasty too?
“It appears as though I was wrong,” Draven simply says.
Ice shoots through the air.
A gasp rips from my lungs, and I throw my arms up to protect my face while I duck and twist.
But no sharp shards of ice hit my body. Glancing up, I find Draven standing in the exact same place as before. Seven blades of ice hover in the air a hair’s breadth from his throat. He just continues watching the two monarchs with that impassive expression on his face. As if he didn’t even flinch when the ice shot towards him.
Slowly lowering my arms, I straighten again and turn back so that I’m facing Bane and Jessina once more. My pulse still thrums in my ears.
“Find him,” Empress Jessina grinds out between gritted teeth.
Draven inclines his head. The move almost makes him cut himself on the ice shards, so Jessina flicks her wrist, making them vanish again.
“I will deliver his corpse to you at once,” Draven promises.
“No,” Bane interrupts. “I want him alive. I want him shackled and kneeling at our feet. And then I want to watch the hope die in the humans’ eyes when we publicly torture their greatest symbol of rebellion to death right in front of them.”
Draven lowers his chin. “Consider it done.”
My chest tightens. Then determination seeps into my heart as I steal a glance at Draven from the corner of my eye.
I can’t let him do this. I can’t let them crush the human rebellion. Alone, the Seelie Court might never stand a chance against the Iceheart Dynasty. But if I can somehow get their human rebellion in contact with our fae resistance, we might be strong enough together to make a difference.
Drawing in a long breath, I squeeze my hand into a fist.
I know what I need to do now.
I need to escape, I need to find the human rebellion, and then I need to warn the Red Hand about Draven’s mission.
That cold hard wall around my heart thickens as I cast another glance at Draven. I will protect the Red Hand and the human rebellion. Even if it means that I have to kill Draven to do it.