Chapter 42
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
“ Y ou…” I stammer.
It feels as if my head is an empty shell, echoing after a violent explosion. I stare up into Draven’s golden eyes, but my mind refuses to process what I’m seeing.
This has to be some kind of trick. A ruse. Draven has dressed up as the Red Hand in an effort to catch him.
But blood-filled images quickly flash through my mind, disproving that theory. I literally watched Draven slaughter these guards. He wouldn’t have done that if he was only pretending. Which can only mean…
“ You are the Red Hand,” I gasp out.
I feel like someone just smashed the floor beneath my feet and sent me plummeting down into the unknown abyss below.
“Yes,” Draven replies, shoving his daggers back in their sheaths.
“What—”
“Not the time for this conversation, little rebel.”
Shouts and pounding footsteps echo from right around the corner.
Draven grabs me by the throat and yanks me closer. I suck in another gasp as he quickly removes the iron collar from my throat and throws it down on the floor. It hits the ice with a clanking sound while Draven rips off his dark gray cloak and snatches up the remaining sword from the ground.
“We’re going to have to fight our way out of here,” he says. Smoke explodes through the air as he shifts into a half-shift and spreads his massive wings. “Get ready.”
Before the final word has even left his mouth, a horde of dragon shifters in silver armor surges around the corner.
Tossing the sword to the ground, I yank the two daggers from Draven’s belt instead. I don’t know how to fight with a sword. If we’re going to have any chance of surviving this, I need weapons that I can actually wield.
Draven doesn’t even flinch or worry for one second about what I was doing when I dropped the sword and stole his knives.
He just gives me a quick nod of approval. “Don’t hold back.”
Before I can reply, the first wave of guards reaches us.
But then they hesitate for a moment when they notice that it’s Draven. Summoning my magic, I shove it at those sparks of confusion in their chests until it makes them even more hesitant and disoriented. Draven swings his sword and cuts the head off the first man.
That snaps the others out of their stupor, and they lurch forward. I keep my magic pouring into them anyway since it makes them clumsy and uncertain. Draven rams his sword towards one man’s chest, but the other six all swarm towards him at the same time, so he’s forced to abandon the strike.
Storm winds crash through the room.
Six of the attackers are flung backwards by Draven’s magic, but the final one, who was standing closest to me, dives forward right before the storm wind can hit him.
Air explodes from my lungs as he slams right into me, knocking both of us back and sending us crashing in through the doorway to the treasury. The pain that shoots through my shoulder blades when I hit the ice floor hard makes me lose my grip on my magic.
Draven whips his head towards us, but I can barely see it over the body of the dragon shifter who lands on me a second later. Rolling sideways, I shove him off me and gasp in a breath.
“I’m fine!” I call to Draven.
But he doesn’t have time to reply, because the other six guards have recovered and launched themselves at him again.
I scramble up from the floor right at the same time as my attacker. His brown hair is disheveled, and surprise and confusion swirl in his eyes as he stares at me. For a moment, we just stand there facing each other.
Golden light fills the large room around us. Rows upon rows of shelves line the walls, and all of them are practically bursting with treasure. Gold and silver and gems and all manners of precious objects fill the shelves, and piles of coins occupy parts of the floor. In the middle of the room are pedestals that display gleaming artifacts. And all of it is lit by the sparkling faelight gems in the ceiling, which reflect against the precious metal and makes it seem like the whole room is glowing.
I’m surrounded by the entirety of the Iceheart Dynasty’s accumulated wealth. The treasure that the human resistance tried so hard to steal. And I can do nothing to complete their doomed mission. Because it’s all too late.
Alarm spikes through my spine as the guard lunges at me.
Leaping back, I yank up my daggers to block his strike. His sword slams into my intersecting blades so hard that I stagger backwards. Twisting sideways, he slides his sword free and feints to the right before striking to the left. I barely manage to see it coming in time to dodge.
Pain spears through me as his sword slices along the side of my ribs. A gash appears in the smooth black fabric of my dress, and blood spills out from the cut in my side. I gasp in pain. Resisting the urge to drop one of the knives and press a hand to the wound, I instead use the precious moment when his sword is still out of position from the strike to ram my own dagger towards his throat.
His eyes widen in surprise, but he jerks back in time, and my blade whooshes through the empty air instead. Warm blood slides down the side of my ribs as I twist with the missed strike and duck underneath his retaliating sword. It passes only a breath over my head.
Panic crackles through my every nerve as I jerk upright and jump back to evade another strike.
My heart pounds and my mind is screaming at me. Because I know, without a doubt, that I am outclassed against this man. He’s an elite guard in the Silver Dragon Clan, and he has probably been training with that sword since childhood. And I’m a fish cutter with emotion magic. I will never win this duel.
Outside in the corridor, black storm clouds and winds whirl between the ice walls. Lightning bolts flash and steel clashes as Draven fights the other six guards on his own.
I throw myself sideways as my attacker rams his sword straight towards my chest. Pain pulses through my wounded side as I hit the row of shelves along the wall. Golden cups topple over and plummet to the floor in a clatter of metal. I shove myself away from the shelf, making a bowl of gems wobble right on the edge. It crashes down as the guard’s sword hits it a moment later, missing me by a hair’s breadth.
My mind screams in panic as I try to scramble out of reach. I need to?—
He launches himself at me.
For the second time tonight, air explodes from my lungs as this damn guard slams right into my chest. But this time, he is ready for it. I’m not.
His arms wrap around my body, pinning my own arms to my sides, as I topple backwards. The impact as I hit the floor knocks one of the daggers from my hands. I gasp as the guard lands on top of me, his arms still locked around me. But that fortunately also traps them underneath my body and immobilizes the sword in his hand so that it’s pressed against my side instead.
He seems to realize that too because he shifts his legs so that he is straddling me instead and then jerks upright while pulling his arms out from underneath me. In order to do that, he has to release his sword. And I use that second when he draws back to my full advantage.
Yanking up my right hand, I slam my remaining knife towards his throat.
Shock flashes across his features, and he jerks backwards.
A snarl rips from my throat when my blade yet again only cuts through empty air. This guy is too well-trained. His reflexes are too damn quick.
Still straddling me, his hand shoots towards his sword. But my hand is closer. Slamming my free hand outwards, I manage to shove the sword away right before his fingers can brush the hilt. It scrapes against the ice floor as it slides across the room before hitting a pile of coins.
Anger crackles in the guard’s eyes as he snaps his gaze back to me. But he doesn’t have time to do anything other than dodge again when I ram my remaining blade towards the side of his neck.
Throwing himself sideways, he evades the dagger. But by doing so, he also lifts his weight from my hips as he leans to the side. Twisting in the same direction, I shove my hips upwards at the same time as I slam my free hand into his shoulder. And because he was already leaning sideways, the move makes him tilt even more to the side.
My heart leaps in my chest, and I scramble backwards to get out from underneath him.
A snarl rips from his lungs as he lurches back towards me.
His hand closes around my ankle right before I can pull it out of reach. I gasp as he yanks hard. The skirt of my dress bunches around my thighs as I slide back along the floor. I kick my other foot, desperately trying to break his grip. He pulls again and drags me fully back to him with one hard yank.
I swing my dagger blindly above me as he once again tries to straddle me. But he expertly shoves my wrist aside before it can hit. Then his weight lands on my hips and his hands close around my throat.
Terror rips through my chest as he squeezes hard, cutting off my air.
My mind screams in panic, and I struggle furiously. But the blind panic is making me stupid, and all I manage to do is to slam my flailing arms and legs into the shelves beside me. A sack topples over, landing on its side on the shelf. Tiny pearls trickle out from the opening as the string comes partly undone. They clatter to the floor and roll across the smooth ice.
The guard isn’t wasting a single second. He knows exactly how to strangle someone to death and keeps applying pressure in all the critical spots.
Black stars dance before my eyes and panic screams inside me.
Think! Goddess damn it, I need to think.
Clarity cuts through the blinding panic for a second.
Yanking up my dagger, I ram it right through the guard’s wrist.
And the moment it hits, I summon my magic and throw everything I have into the pale red spark of pain that flares up in his chest.
He gasps and jerks back as I turn that small spark of pain into agony so deep that it will make him wish for death. A bloodcurdling scream rips from his lungs as I yank the blade back out. His hands disappear from my throat as he instead grips his bleeding wrist.
I suck air back into my lungs. Coughing desperately, I blink against the black spots that float before my eyes and draw in ragged breaths. But I can’t waste this moment. Lurching upwards, I slam my entire body into his while I stab the blade towards his throat.
But even with the world-ending pain I’m pouring inside him, his instincts take over and he manages to slam his hand against my wrist and redirect the blow before it can strike. However, the move made him crash down on his side on the floor.
Scrambling to my knees, I shove him over on his back and ram the blade at his throat again. His hands fly up, gripping my wrist and stopping the blade.
I snarl in frustration as I try to force the blade down into his neck. But he’s too strong.
The crackling of lightning and clashing of swords echo from outside the door, drowning out the faint clattering of pearls that keep trickling out of the bag right above me. Putting all of my strength into it, I bend forward as I try to drive the point of the blade home. But the guard keeps his hands around my wrist, holding it immobile, even though his eyes are glassy with pain from my magic.
With a cry of frustration, I yank my other hand up and slam my fist right into his injured wrist. Then I shove with my magic again.
An earsplitting scream shatters from his lungs as I magnify the pain.
And the moment he opens his mouth, I yank my hand up and rip the string off the bag above us.
A torrent of tiny pearls pours out of the bag and streams down right into the guard’s open mouth.
Releasing my grip on his pain, I instead force my magic straight into the spark of bone white fear that flickers to life in his chest. His eyes almost bulge out of his head as he tries to scream in sheer panic and fear. But that only makes him swallow even more pearls. I increase his terror to the point that it must feel like he is drowning in a sea of beads, gasping in tiny round pearls instead of air.
And while he is thrashing in panic underneath me, I finally yank my wrist out of his grip and then slam the dagger down right through his throat. He gasps and jerks. The flood of pearls is still pouring down over his mouth. I yank my blade back out.
My stomach turns as tiny pearls roll out of the wound in his throat.
Only when his eyes have glassed over completely and I feel my magic disconnect from the now nonexistent emotions in his chest do I dare to move from my position. The final dregs of pearls trickle out, hitting his already full mouth and roll down his cheeks before clattering across the ice floor. I scramble away from him, suddenly feeling sick.
By Mabona, that must have been a truly horrible way to die.
Drawing in a strained breath through my aching throat, I try to reorient myself. Flashing lightning and clashing steel still come from the corridor outside. Reality trickles back into me. Draven. I need to help him.
The wound in my side has mostly stopped bleeding, but blood still covers the bare skin around it. I try my best not to disturb the wound as I stagger to my feet and then hurry back towards the open door.
Four dead guards in silver armor lie scattered across the floor while Draven is fighting the remaining two close to the door. They’re coming at him from both sides, trying to force him into splitting his focus. He moves like a shadow, whipping back and forth to meet each of their strikes right before they can hit.
I flick my gaze between the three of them. One of the guards has his back to me.
Shifting the dagger to my left hand, I sneak up behind him.
“Behind!” his companion yells as he notices me.
But it’s already too late.
I ram my dagger through the side of his neck.
The shouted warning also caused the second guard to lose sight of Draven for a moment. He gasps in a wet gurgling breath as Draven slits his throat.
Both guards collapse to the ground, their bodies twitching slightly before growing still.
Then everything is suddenly dead silent.
My chest heaves. So does Draven’s. Blood is splattered across his face and hands, and the dark gray clothes he is no doubt wearing to hide his armor underneath are stained with blood too. I have no idea if it’s his or someone else’s.
Then Draven’s gaze snaps down to the slice in my dress and the blood across my skin. He opens his mouth. But right before any words can make it out, another voice cuts through the silence.
“It’s Commander Ryat!” a voice bellows from the corner leading out into the next corridor.
Whipping my head towards it, I find a messenger standing there with wide eyes.
He stares at Draven and the slaughter around us in shock, even as he continues yelling, “He’s helping the rebels and?—”
A lightning bolt cracks through the air.
The messenger stiffens as it hits him straight in the chest. Then he topples backwards, his limbs twitching even in death.
“Fuck,” Draven growls. Dragging a blood-soaked hand through his hair, he pushes a few strands out of his face. “Hopefully no one heard that.”
Snapping out of my stupor, I lurch into motion. “We need to get to a window. Before reinforcements get here.”
“I know.” He flicks a glance towards the treasury before meeting my gaze again. “He’s dead?”
“Very.”
“Good.” After sweeping his gaze over everyone else to make sure that they’re dead too, he jerks his chin. “Then let’s go.”
Exhaustion washes over me as we sprint back through the corridor. My body is using up a lot of energy to heal that wound in my side. I need to eat something. I need to eat a lot . And soon.
By some miracle, the rest of the corridors are empty.
Lavendera and the other guards must have left with the human prisoners before their companions realized that we were in the treasury.
Cold evening winds wash in through the window as Draven shoves it open fully and then turns back to me.
A muted sense of understanding washes through me. This is how the Red Hand was getting in and out of restricted parts of the Ice Palace. He wasn’t climbing in. He was flying.
“Come here,” Draven says.
That mind-shattering sense of shock that I have been suppressing during the fight starts to press back into me, so I just numbly walk over to Draven.
With heartbreakingly gentle movements, he lifts me into his arms and holds me to his chest. Then he tucks his wings in tight and leaps right out through the window.
My stomach lurches as we free fall for a moment.
Then his massive wings spread out wide, and he flies us away. After everything that has happened tonight, I have no idea where he is taking me. But I’m too exhausted and too shocked to ask. So I just lie there in his arms and try to wrap my mind around that single world-altering revelation.
Draven Ryat is the Red Hand.