Chapter 35
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
W hile Draven and the Icehearts continue moving through the room, delivering orders and intimidating people, I drift away from Isera and Alistair. I need to figure out how to get word to the Red Hand, and I don’t know when I will be left unsupervised like this again. My gaze darts between the main door and the one that leads out to some kind of patio. Can I make it to the drop point and back before Draven notices that I’m missing?
“Look at him follow them like a fucking dog on a leash,” a man growls quietly from somewhere behind me. “It makes me sick.”
“Well, to be fair, this is literally his job,” a woman replies.
“No, it’s not. His job is to lead our clan.”
Glancing over my shoulder, I find two dragon shifters in black armor standing side by side. A man and a woman. I immediately recognize them as Galen, Draven’s former best friend, and that usually so cheerful soldier Lyra. However, Lyra doesn’t look particularly happy right now. Though it’s nothing compared to the scorching glare that Galen is shooting in Draven’s direction.
Both of them start slightly when they realize that I’m looking at them, but then they relax again when they see that it’s just me.
“Wanna join?” Galen offers, a humorless smile blowing across his lips. “I’m sure you hate him too.”
I move so that I’m standing close to them, but not right next to them, just in case that would look suspicious. Then I follow their gazes towards where Draven is now standing on the other side of the room. Since the dance floor in the middle of the silver-sparkling room is still empty, I can see the other side clearly.
Empress Jessina and Emperor Bane are speaking to a man in a dark blue suit. Worry shines on his whole face as he looks at them while nodding fervently. Draven is standing on the man’s other side, which means that he can’t see what Draven is doing unless he takes his eyes off the Icehearts. Which I’m sure is a very deliberate power play. Draven’s massive black wings are spread wide as he looms there like the Shadow of Death that he is.
“Pathetic,” Galen scoffs next to me.
Memories of Emperor Bane whipping Draven’s wings into bloody shreds, and Jessina casually mentioning that it’s her turn next time, flashes before my eyes. I keep my gaze on Draven as I reply, “I’m sure he’s just doing what he thinks is best.”
From the corner of my eye, I can see both Galen and Lyra turn to stare at me in surprise.
“Great,” Galen huffs, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “And now you’re defending him. Looks like he really has broken you.”
Oh if he only knew that it’s the exact opposite. That Draven is the only person that I have never made myself small for. The first person that I have never had to hold back against or watch my mouth around.
But I can’t exactly tell them that, so I say nothing. Galen doesn’t seem to mind, or even notice, because he just keeps speaking.
“ Doing what he thinks is best ,” he echoes mockingly, bitterness lacing his tone. “Do you know what that is, according to Draven?”
I flick a glance at him, but his furious violet eyes are still locked on Draven across the room. When I don’t immediately reply, he answers for me.
“Nothing,” he spits out.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
Two courtiers in glittering dresses walk past in front of us, heading for the table of food by the wall to our right. I drop my gaze, and Galen and Lyra keep their mouths shut until they have passed out of earshot.
Then Galen heaves a frustrated sigh. “Do you know what he did the day that the Silver Clan came to our islands?”
It doesn’t sound like he is waiting for an actual answer, so I don’t say anything.
Just as I expected, Galen keeps talking anyway. And when he does, disgust drips from every word. “Nothing. He did nothing. The Icehearts landed in the middle of town, demanding to speak to our leader. Draven went there. They told him to swear allegiance to them. And he did.” A scoff, full of disbelief and contempt, rips from his throat, and he shakes his head while still staring at Draven across the room. “He just got down on his knees and swore allegiance. He didn’t even try to fight.” He spits out a low and vicious curse. “Fucking coward.”
My mind immediately goes back to that battle I witnessed out on the mountainside, and how Bane and Jessina decimated the dragons from the Purple Clan with their ice flames. How their ice froze their wings and encased their bodies. How they just fell from the sky and shattered on the rocks below.
He was probably trying to save his clan from that same fate.
“I’m sure there was a reason,” I say softly.
Galen scoffs again. But before he can say anything else, my gaze snags on someone by the table to my right, and a small gasp rips from my lungs. Thankfully, it was partially drowned out by Galen’s scoff, so he and Lyra don’t appear to have heard it.
Stunned shock pulses through me as I stare at the blond human man who is clearing dirty plates off the table while keeping his head and eyes down. My heart pounds in my chest.
It’s Peter. One of the members of the human resistance that I met that first day when Kath brought me to their tavern. He’s the one who gave me the climbing gear.
Confusion whirls inside my skull as I stare at him. What in Mabona’s name is he doing here?
Then understanding slams into me.
Oh Mabona’s fucking tits. This is how they get to the drop point.
I’ve always been wondering how the humans have been able to drop off instructions and pick up information at a location inside the palace’s defensive walls. And this must be it. Peter most likely works a low-level job in the kitchens here, which lets him access the palace grounds but not anything important inside the castle.
“Sorry, I need to get something to eat,” I tell Galen and Lyra.
Without waiting for them to respond, I walk over to the table that Peter is clearing and casually start inspecting the food.
“Peter,” I whisper.
To his credit, he doesn’t so much as flinch in surprise. He just keeps gathering up the empty plates with his head down.
“You shouldn’t be talking to me,” he breathes back, barely moving his lips.
“I know. But I have important information that needs to be delivered as soon as possible.” I turn one of the silver trays, pretending to look at the small pastries at the back of it. “There are eight guards between the hidden door and the treasury. All armed and well-trained. Fighting in a group will be suicide. Tell the Red Hand that he needs to assassinate them before the rest of you get there.”
Peter dips his chin in a barely perceptible nod.
“And there is to be a ball next week,” I continue whispering.
“I know.”
“All the clan leaders will be there. Including Draven and the Icehearts.”
He flicks a quick glance at me. Apparently, that was news to him. Then he quickly finishes gathering up the plates.
“I’ll let the rest know.” Straightening, he grabs all the plates and starts hurrying away. “Incoming.”
I frown, trying to figure out what he meant by that last word.
Then I can feel it.
A powerful presence looming behind me. It sends a ripple down my spine.
“What did I tell you about flirting with other people?” Draven says from behind my back.
His dark voice, laced with both threats and wicked promises, makes heat wash through me.
While turning around to face him, I run through several options in my head for how to make sure that Draven doesn’t become suspicious of Peter.
“I wasn’t flirting with him,” I say. Then I flash him a sly smile. “I was asking if he could help me kill some guards so that I can escape.”
A surprised huff of amusement rips from Draven’s chest. Then he tilts his head to the side, as if conceding the point. “Well, that’s better than flirting at least, so I’ll take it.”
Sometimes, the truth really is the best lie.
Taking a step closer, he places two fingers underneath my chin and pushes upwards, making me crane my neck and meet his intense gaze. “Because if you were flirting with him, he would wake up without his hands tomorrow.”
“Ah, threats of torture.” I give him a knowing smile. “So romantic.”
His eyes glitter in the shimmering faelights and the burning candles around the room. Then a mischievous glint flashes in those beautiful eyes of his, and he lets his hand drop from my chin and instead grabs my wrist.
I stumble a step in surprise as he suddenly begins leading me out onto the empty dance floor.
“What are you doing?” I protest, trying to pull my wrist out of his grip.
He gives me a devilish smile as he pulls us to a halt in the middle of the dance floor and then spins me towards him. “You wanted romance.”
My heart skips a beat as he slides his right hand along the side of my ribs and then places it possessively on my lower back while he grips my hand with his other. Drawing in an unsteady breath, I look up into his eyes.
“I still don’t know how to dance,” I whisper, feeling everyone’s stunned gaze on us.
That devilish smile on his lips widens. “Good thing you’ve become quite adept at obeying my orders without question then.”
Before I can so much as open my mouth to retort, he moves us into a dance that no one else is performing. In fact, I can barely hear the soft string music from the two musicians in the corner. Though to be fair, that might be because my heart is pounding in my chest.
All around us, people are staring. Courtiers and servants and Draven’s own people. I don’t even dare to glance in Jessina and Bane’s direction to see how they are reacting. Worry flits through my chest, and I swallow.
“Are you supposed to dance with your slave?” I ask, meeting his gaze again.
And the utter confidence and complete certainty on his face blows away that worry inside me like a strong wind. Draven pulls me closer, pressing his palm more tightly against my lower back.
“You’re mine,” he says, mischief sparkling in his eyes. “I can do whatever I want with you.”
A huff of amusement escapes me, and I roll my eyes. “Right.”
He spins us around so abruptly that my breath catches. I draw in an unsteady breath to refill my lungs as Draven pulls me closer again.
“Careful with those eye rolls, little rebel,” he warns. “Wouldn’t want anyone to realize that you’re not actually my submissive little plaything.”
I let the hint of a smirk blow across my lips and make my voice deliberately seductive as I reply, “Yes, sir.”
His fingers grip the smooth black fabric of my dress harder, and he works his jaw. Letting out a controlled breath, he shakes his head at me while his gaze, burning with lust, sears through my very soul. “Such a little menace.”
Lightning crackles through my veins as he slides his hand up the side of my ribs and brushes his thumb right underneath the curve of my breast. A shudder of pleasure rolls down my spine. A satisfied smirk spreads across Draven’s mouth. I attempt to glare at him, but it’s undone when he makes my heart skip a beat by caressing the side of my ribs again.
I hold his gaze, watching the way the light gleams in his eyes. The rest of the room disappears around us. It’s just me and him. His hands on my body. His eyes, burning with desire, on mine. I can feel his very soul calling to mine, and all I want to do is to grab the front of his armor and yank his stupid troublesome mouth down to mine and kiss him until he can’t breathe.
Because I can’t fucking breathe either.
Indecision rips at my chest.
Should I tell him? After the torture and humiliation I have seen the Icehearts subject Draven to, he must surely hate them as much as I do. If I told him about the heist and the rebellion, he would want to help me. Wouldn’t he? He must want out of here as much as I do.
And he has been standing up to them more and more. First this black dress and now dancing with me in front of everyone. Maybe he is finally ready to fight back.
My mind drifts back to what Galen said earlier. That Draven didn’t even try to fight when the Icehearts came to their home and demanded his allegiance. That he just got down on his knees and surrendered. It doesn’t sound anything like Draven. But then again, I didn’t know him two hundred years ago. He was only eighty-six back then. Maybe this confidence and power that he now exudes came later.
So if I ask him now to join me and help me crush the Iceheart Dynasty, he might say yes.
Fear draws its icy fingers down my spine.
Can I really take that risk? If I’m wrong, and Draven still doesn’t dare to go against the Icehearts, I will be dooming not only the Red Hand, but the entire resistance. The human one and our fae one.
Swallowing, I gaze up into Draven’s eyes, trying to read his mind.
But they betray nothing.
And I can’t stop thinking about that blinding, world-ending, completely mind-shattering pain that I felt when I connected to Draven’s emotions after Bane had whipped his wings to shreds. That is what Draven is risking if he simply fails them. So what would they do to him if they caught him actively trying to bring them down? A shiver of fear rolls down my spine at just the thought of it.
I stare up at him while indecision fights desperately inside me.
“Have you…” I begin before I even know what I’m doing. But I decide that I need to know. I need to ask this much, at least. So I clear my throat and try again. But I keep my voice soft, so that only he can hear. “Have you ever considered leaving?”
His dark brows furrow slightly. “Leaving what?”
“This.” I flick a glance around the room, and to my surprise, realize that other people have started dancing as well. Tearing my gaze from the courtiers now filling the dance floor, I meet Draven’s eyes again. “Leaving the Icehearts’ service.”
He clenches his jaw, as if in frustration, and glances away for a second before returning his gaze to me. “I can’t leave.”
“You’ve never even considered it?” I ask, trying to read the tense emotions on his face.
“Of course I have.” He forces out another tight breath. “But I can’t.”
“Why not?”
He opens his mouth as if to reply, but then just closes it again and heaves a long, frustrated breath. “I tried once. It didn’t… They…” He expels another forceful sigh and then meets my gaze head on. And when he speaks again, there is no doubt that he means every single word. “I can’t leave.”
Disappointment sinks into my stomach like a block of ice.
Because that answers my question.
Should I tell him about the heist and the rebellion?
The answer is no. No, I can’t tell him. Ever.
It might be because he doesn’t want them to whip his wings again, or he might be trying to keep the Icehearts from torturing his clan the way they are torturing him, or some other kind of logical but very inconvenient reason, but the fact of the matter remains that Draven will not go against the Icehearts.
Which means that I will need to help the humans pull off this heist, start a rebellion among the entire population of Frostfell, and then escape with Isera, Alistair, and Lavendera. And leave Draven to his fate. Because no matter how much I have tried to convince myself otherwise lately, Draven and I are on opposite sides in this war.
We are, and always will be, enemies.