Chapter 21
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
T he atmosphere around me is mostly cheerful. But that’s about to change. The moment a group leaves one of the tables, I swipe a half full mug from it to blend in better before I continue deeper into the tavern.
Several days have passed since I made my vow to make the whole city rebel against the Icehearts, but this is the first night since then that Draven isn’t sleeping right next to me. He did everything he could to sneak out silently so that I wouldn’t notice that he left me unsupervised. Little does he know that I always wait for him to fall asleep first. So he disappeared to deal with whatever it is that he had to deal with, and I left soon after.
And now, I’m making my way through my fifth tavern of the night.
Both humans and dragon shifters are drinking here, though at separate tables. I eavesdrop on all of their conversations as I drift through the warm room as if in search of a table of my own.
Most of them are just talking about their day or the latest gossip in their neighborhood, but there is a group of humans in the corner that is watching the dragon shifters with wary eyes. I set course for the pale wooden table next to theirs.
While making sure to keep my eyes down and the hood of my cloak up, I slide into one of the seats at the tiny table for two next to the larger group. The rickety wooden chair creaks in alarm when I sit down. I adjust it so that I’m sitting at an angle where I can still see them while they can’t see my face under the hood. Keeping my eyes on the unidentified liquid in the mug I stole earlier, I call up my magic and listen as the humans talk.
“Why do they have to drink here?” a man with a ginger beard mutters. “Can’t we have one single place to ourselves?”
“This whole city is their place now,” another man replies. The scar on his cheek stretches when he grimaces and then shoots another scowl at the dragon shifters three tables away. “This thing here… It’s just dog pissing to mark their territory.”
Reaching out with my magic, I latch on to the pale red sparks of anger in their chests and begin to steadily increase them.
“Did you know they even took our name?” a woman with curly hair says while she stares daggers at the shifters.
Ginger Beard and Scar, as well as the rest of their group, turn towards her in surprise.
“What?” Ginger Beard asks.
“Yeah,” Curly Hair replies. Tearing her gaze from the dragon shifters, she looks back at her companions. “My grandma used to tell me these stories, see. Said she had once seen an old map of the world. She worked in the palace when she was a girl, she did. Cleaning down in the archives. And on that map, our city was called Stonehollow. Not Frostfell.”
Their anger spikes. I feed it even more with my magic.
Scar squeezes his hand into a fist and slams it down on the table, making their mugs rattle. “The Icehearts must have changed the name after they moved their castle here.”
“They didn’t move it here,” Ginger Beard growls. “They destroyed our ancestors’ castle and then built theirs on top of its bones.”
“And they will keep taking everything from us,” I say softly, still keeping my head bowed and my face hidden under the hood. “Until we do something about it.”
All of them snap their gazes to me. I immediately release my connection to their anger and instead shove my magic at the yellow-green sparks of suspicion. The tension bleeds out of their postures when I lower their suspicion until it almost disappears.
“I know,” Curly Hair replies to my statement. Sadness blows across her features. “But we can’t fight the whole Iceheart Dynasty, see. They’re immortal, they can breathe fire, and they’re big as buildings, they are. They might as well be gods.”
Fear tries to flare up in their chests, but I quickly lower that as well.
“The Icehearts won’t die of old age, no,” I say. “But if someone shoves a blade through their hearts, they will die as easily as the rest of us. And besides, we have something they don’t.” I pause for dramatic effect. “Numbers. This is our city. We outnumber the shifters. If we just band together, we can overthrow them.”
I push at the hope in their chests, but to my surprise, it’s not there. Cutting off that flow of magic, I quickly shove it towards the burgundy sparks of courage that I hope will be there instead. Relief flickers through me when I find tiny sparks of courage burning in most of their chests. I fan them into burning wildfires.
“She’s right,” Ginger Beard says. He straightens his spine and raises his chin as I keep feeding his courage. “We are the silent majority. It’s time we stop being silent.”
The others nod vigorously as I keep increasing their courage as well. Still keeping my head low, I watch as the group of humans split up and move to other tables. I throw my magic across the whole tavern, alternating between increasing the humans’ anger, lowering their fear, increasing their courage, and even increasing a few sparks of hope that pop up.
Nausea rolls through my stomach, but I do my best to swallow it down. I’m playing with these people’s feelings like a musician plays a fiddle. It’s not right. Manipulating people’s emotions like this is not something a good person, a kind person, would do. If these people knew what I was doing to them, they would hate me. And they would be right to.
That part of me that desperately wants people to like me is fighting the small but growing part of me that just wants to be ruthless for once in my life and simply take what I want without apologizing for it.
My chest tightens with anxiety and dread. It’s quickly followed by anger at my inability to just do what needs to be done without worrying about what other people might think of me.
Pushing up from the table, I decide that this is enough for tonight. I need to get back to the Ice Palace anyway. I want to check in on Isera, Alistair, and Lavendera and update them on my progress. And I can’t risk waiting too long, because I don’t know when Draven will return.
After cutting off the flow of my magic, I weave between the now increasingly restless humans and the confused dragon shifters who watch them with brows furrowed. I keep my head down and slip through the crowd unnoticed. Then I run back to the Ice Palace.
When I finally sneak in through the door to the kennels, I head straight for Alistair’s cage. But to my surprise, he isn’t there. And neither is Isera.
Drawing up short, I come to a halt on the pale ice floor and just stare at their empty cages. It’s the middle of the night. What in Mabona’s name could the Icehearts be subjecting them to now?
“Make it stop, make it stop, make it stop.”
I snap my gaze towards the sound of the voice.
Pain pulses through my heart when I find Lavendera sitting in the middle of her cage, rocking back and forth and gripping her hair with both hands.
“Make it stop, make it stop, make it stop,” she whispers over and over again.
I hurry over to her cage and drop down to my knees in front of it. “Lavendera.”
She doesn’t look up. I try to reach through the bars, but she’s sitting too far away for me to touch her. Her fingers are squeezing the flowing brown strands of her hair so hard that her knuckles have turned white, and she keeps rocking back and forth. Pain hits me straight in the chest again.
“Lavendera, please,” I whisper back. “I can help you. Just tell me what you’re feeling, and I can help take that emotion away.”
Her head jerks up and her gaze snaps to mine.
It’s so sudden that I jerk back in shock.
“No.” Her eyes are wide and panicked as she stares at me while letting her hands drop down from her hair. “Don’t mess with my head. Don’t you ever mess with my head. It’s already too crowded. Too crowded.” A sob suddenly rips from her throat, and tears line her eyes. “I’m so tired.” Another sob. “Oh Goddess, you have no idea just how tired I am.”
I just stare back at her, horrified. Do the Icehearts even understand the kind of torture they’re putting her through just by locking her up like this?
“I promise,” I begin. “I won’t touch your emotions unless you want me to. But please…”
I trail off.
The tears are gone from Lavendera’s eyes. And so is everything else.
Sitting there in the middle of the cage, she just stares at the wall behind me with vacant eyes. As if she has completely disconnected from the world around her to escape the pain.
My heart squeezes hard as I watch her.
And that ruthlessness that has been growing inside me seeps deeper into my soul, intertwining with all the rage and pain already festering in there.
I will get Lavendera out of here. I will get them all out of here.
And I will burn this fucking castle to the ground.
Even if it means that I have to manipulate every single human in this city to do it.