Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
D read squeezes my lungs when we walk across the threshold and back into Draven’s fancy living room. During the walk back from the throne room, I was finally able to learn how to get from Draven’s rooms to the main entrance. But it is with growing hopelessness that I realize that I will never be able to get there without being caught. Almost every stairwell is guarded.
The door clicks shut behind me. I flick my gaze around the living room, trying to come up with some kind of plan for how to escape. The cluster of dark gray armchairs and couches around the low wooden table stare back at me uselessly from across the room. The desk and chair to my right don’t look very promising either.
My gaze lands on the clear ice door opposite me that leads out onto a balcony. I wonder what’s below that. I might be able to climb down and?—
Fingers brush against the back of my neck.
I whip around while wrapping a hand around my own throat to protect it. A sharp breath of surprise escapes my lips when I find Draven standing right there, his hand still lifted from when it brushed against my neck.
Ice spreads through my veins. He is going to do what Bane and Jessina told him to do. Drain my magic more fully.
For a few seconds, we only watch each other in silence. Then he turns his hand and instead twitches two fingers at me, ordering me to come closer.
“Come here,” he commands.
“Don’t you fucking dare,” I growl back at him.
Shaking his head in frustration, he reaches for my throat again. “I’m?—”
I bolt.
Darting to the side, I aim to sprint past him and reach the door that leads out into the corridor.
His massive black wings flare out wide, blocking my way.
I suck in a gasp and skid to a halt. Throwing myself sideways, I barely manage to get out of reach before his hand can close around my wrist. My heart hammers as I whip my head from side to side in search of safety.
Draven lunges for me.
Panic blares inside my skull. Making a split-second decision, I run towards the closest door. Which leads to the bedroom that I woke up in. My feet thud against the dark wooden floorboards as I dart into the room and grab the door to throw it shut behind me.
It slams into Draven’s shoulder.
He lets out a huff, and he draws his eyebrows down as he pushes the door open again.
Whirling around, I abandon my efforts to get the door shut and instead back farther into the room. Draven stalks after me. I reach out blindly and grab the closest thing I can find. Which happens to be a desk light made of glass and steel, with a faelight gem in the middle.
With a scream, I hurl it straight at Draven’s face.
He simply leans a little to the right, and the desk light sails harmlessly over his shoulder instead.
The sound of shattering glass echoes through the room as the desk light hits the white ice wall behind Draven with a crash. Shards rain down and clink against the floor, along with heavier thumps from the metal base. The faelight gem flickers among the wreckage.
My chest rises and falls with short shallow breaths as I continue backing away.
Draven casts a lazy glance over his shoulder at the shattered light holder. Then he slides his gaze back to me and cocks his head. “That… was an antique.”
“Don’t touch me,” I snarl. But the fury in my voice barely manages to mask how it trembles. “I swear to Mabona, if you touch me, I will?—”
He flies across the room.
With one powerful beat of his massive wings, he has closed the distance between us. I dive sideways, trying to get out of reach. But his arms wrap around my waist, and we crash down on the floor.
I kick my heel back, aiming for his shin. But dull pain only pulses through my own foot when my heel hits his dragon scale armor. Flailing and wiggling, I try to break his grip on me before he can pin me completely.
A grunt and a low curse escape his throat as he struggles to keep hold of me. I kick and ram my elbows at him again while trying to crawl away.
Then his hands wrap tightly around my wrists at the same time as he rolls over, taking me with him. My back is pressed flat against the floor as Draven settles his weight on my hips.
Panic pulses through me, and I yank furiously against his grip on my wrists as he begins moving my hands towards his knees. A frustrated cry rips from my lungs. But it’s useless. Draven simply moves my hands until he can pin them to the floor with his knees.
Once his knees are pressing down on my palms, he releases my wrists.
My heart is beating so fast that I can barely hear anything over the pounding in my ears. I think Draven is saying something, but I can’t hear past the panic.
He reaches towards my throat again.
I squirm desperately underneath him while fear and anger rip at my soul. He’s going to drain my magic again, and then I will be left lying helpless on the floor. I will never be able to escape. Because as long as he keeps draining my magic, I won’t be able to recover enough strength to fight or run. Or to resist in any way. I won’t be able to do anything to stop him. To save myself.
His hands reach my throat.
Panic blares inside my skull and my heart hammers against my ribs as I fight against his overwhelming strength.
“I will kill you for this!” I scream at him, and my voice almost cracks. “I swear I will fucking kill you for?—”
The iron pressing against my throat disappears.
I gasp as my connection to my magic is restored. Strength starts trickling back into my limbs again as my energy begins building back up to normal levels as well.
Lying there on the floor, I stare up at Draven in utter shock.
He is still straddling my hips and pinning my hands under his knees. But he didn’t drain my magic. Instead…
I shift my gaze to his hand, staring uncomprehendingly at the item dangling from his fingers.
An iron collar.
The iron collar.
My iron collar.
Draven’s eyes are serious as he holds my gaze.
My heart thumps in my chest.
For a few seconds, it’s as if time isn’t moving at all.
Then reality comes crashing back down over me as Draven eases his knees off my palms and gets to his feet in one fluid motion.
With my hands now free, I move one up to my throat and draw my fingers over my neck. My eyes have already confirmed that Draven has removed the iron collar, but my mind is still trying to process it, so I need the extra touch to confirm it too.
When my fingers only meet the smooth skin of my throat, a small sob of profound relief escapes my lips.
At the sound, Draven’s grip on the iron collar tightens until he is squeezing it so hard that his knuckles turn white.
Suddenly worried that he’s going to put it back on me again, I scramble off the floor and get to my feet as well. But Draven only remains standing there in front of me, watching me with eyes I can’t read. His muscled chest rises and falls with what looks like highly controlled breaths.
Drawing a hand over my throat again, I watch him while shock continues clanging inside my skull. “You took off my collar.”
“Yes.” Even his tone is unnaturally controlled.
“You trust me not to manipulate your emotions and try to escape?”
“No.”
His eyes sear into mine like fire, and I can tell that he means that word with every fiber of his being. He knows that I will try to use my magic to escape now. But for some reason, he took off my collar anyway.
That unspoken question hangs in the air between us. The very silence seems to crackle with lightning.
“Why?” I manage to press out at last. It comes out like barely more than a whisper.
He draws in another highly controlled breath and tightens his grip on the collar. “Because if I have to see you in this collar one fucking second more than absolutely necessary, I’m going to start killing people.”
My heart flips.
The muscles in his jaw flicker as he forces out a breath and flexes his fingers around the collar still in his hand. “Outside this room, you need to wear it. If you don’t, they will torture you. But in here, when it’s just us, I will take it off.”
Before I can even figure out how to respond to that, he turns and walks over to the pale wooden dresser by the wall. After putting the collar into one of the lower drawers, he pulls out something made of black fabric.
“I couldn’t remove it while you were unconscious because I couldn’t be here every minute of every day.” He shuts the drawer and turns back to me. “People sometimes come in here to clean, without my knowledge, and I couldn’t risk them seeing you without it. But now that you’re awake, you can hide it yourself even if I’m not here.”
I stare at him, my mind still spinning with disbelief, as he walks back to me and holds out a rich black cloak.
“If you ever need to hide it, put this on,” he says, offering me the garment. “The cloak clasps at the front of your throat, and it hides the part where the collar is supposed to be. No one will be able to tell if you’re wearing it underneath the cloak or not.”
Reaching out, I numbly take the cloak. It’s soft and warm against my palm as I grip it.
“I’ll let slip that I’m making you wear it to humiliate you,” he continues. “It’s in my clan color, so people will just think that it’s my way of reminding you that I own you now.”
I drag in an unsteady breath while I keep the cloak in a death grip. I feel like my head is ringing.
“Why?” I manage to press out. “Why are you doing this?”
His eyes soften for a fraction of a second. Then it’s gone, and he just blows out a small sigh instead. “I’ve already told you. Because you don’t deserve this.”
A knock comes from the front door.
I whip my head towards it while panic pulses through me.
But Draven was apparently expecting it, because he just nods calmly at the cloak in my hands. “Put it on.”
It takes me a second to pry it out of my own death grip. Shaking out the rich black fabric, I drape it over my shoulders and then clasp it at the front of my throat. Just like Draven said, it hides most of my throat from view.
Once it’s in place, Draven nods and then walks over to the door. From where I’m standing, I can’t see who is on the other side when he opens it, but it appears to be the person Draven was expecting, because he takes a step back as if to invite the person inside.
“Put it on the desk,” he commands, his voice dripping with authority. Then he raises a hand and points towards the bedroom I’m standing in. “And then clean up the mess on the floor.”
My gaze flits to the shattered glass and steel frame that apparently used to be an antique desk light.
A woman in a pale gray dress nods in acknowledgement as she walks past Draven. In her hands, she’s holding a tray full of food. My stomach growls at the mere sight of it.
After setting down the tray on the desk, she hurries into my bedroom. She doesn’t even acknowledge me. Only begins cleaning up the mess I made without a word.
Out in the living room, Draven snaps his fingers and locks eyes with me before stabbing a hand towards the tray of food. “Eat.”
Since I’m too hungry to be offended by his presumptuous command, I simply walk over to the desk and sit down. Draven crosses his arms and leans one shoulder against the wall as he watches me inhale three entire plates of food and gulp down a whole pitcher of water.
The woman in the gray dress finishes cleaning up at the same time as I swallow the last bite of food. She bows to Draven before she disappears out the door again with both the now empty tray and a small bag full of clinking glass shards.
Once she has shut the door behind her, Draven turns back to me.
“Good,” he says. “Your collar is off, you have eaten, and you understand the situation you’re in.” He nods towards the room I woke up in. “That’s your bedroom.” He jerks his chin towards the closed door on the other side of the living room. “That’s my bedroom. The bathroom is the door next to it. Any questions?”
I almost laugh out loud. He’s joking, right? I have like a million questions about a million different things.
But since I get the feeling that the answer to his question is supposed to be no , I decide to give him what he wants. “No.”
He nods. “Good. Now stay here.”
“Where are you going?”
“You heard Bane and Jessina. There is a killer on the loose.”
“The Red Hand.”
“Yes.”
I open my mouth, but then decide that asking too many questions would be stupid since it would just make him suspicious. I already have a plan, and it’s better for me if he leaves quickly so that I can get to it. So instead of asking more about the Red Hand, or telling him what I really think about his mission to kill the most important resistance fighter in this city, I blow out a sigh and give him a nod as if I have accepted my reality.
Draven watches me in silence for another few moments, as if he doesn’t believe it for a second. Then he shakes his head, informing me that he is indeed not buying my act in the slightest, and straightens from the wall.
“Don’t do anything stupid,” he says.
Before I can retort, he stalks out the door and closes it behind him.
Two distinct clicking sounds echo between the white ice walls as he locks it too. I shoot him a glare through the door, even though he can’t see it.
Then I jump up from the chair and hurry over to the balcony door instead.
I have a human resistance to find.