Chapter 15
Everly
The order stands.
It wasn’t like it was a secret, or even like he was trying to hide it now. He had pitched his voice to carry, had let me feel his resolution through the bond.
Kill on sight.
Still, the words echoed in my head, swirling with Zerina’s accusations the last time I had seen her, at my father’s house.
How do you even stand it?
“Everly.” Wynnie’s quiet tone told me she had heard as well.
Her features were conflicted, and I knew why. Like Draven, she loved me. And like Draven, that love did not extend to my people, even less so after they took me.
“I’m going to go now. You should get some rest,” I said, easing the window open as Batty darted into the cold air.
She bit her lip but nodded, and I swept into Draven’s rooms, my claws already biting into my palms as I clenched my fists.
He was at his desk, sitting like he was bracing himself for battle.
“We can’t fight a war on every front.”
I scoffed. “And if my family comes to make sure that I’m safe, you’ll just obliterate them before they get the chance.”
He rose to his feet in a single fluid motion with all the warrior’s grace he had honed for the sake of his people, the skills he had needed to fight against my own blood.
“The family who sent you to the mages?” he demanded with a lethal calm. “Who took you against your will and let that despicable bastard hurt you?”
Who killed his parents. The unspoken addition hung in the air between us.
Frustration coursed through my veins. It was almost worse that I understood where he was coming from, that some of that hatred still plagued me as well when I thought about wings looming over me and chains around my wrists. A blade slicing into me over and over again.
My mana was threatening to emerge, shadows and ice clouding my vision just before Draven stepped into view. He gently pried my fingers open before they could draw more blood.
He didn’t release me, but instead, slowly siphoned away, my skin humming with each point of contact.
Sometimes, it was worse knowing that the bond didn’t sway our feelings. Maybe fate would have brought us to one another time after time, and every time we would have caved to the ways we fit together and ignored all the ways we didn’t.
Or maybe there was a version of us somewhere that got to meet in a world with unity—the one that had felt far more attainable in the middle of a cave that existed out of time itself.
“They aren’t all like that,” I reminded him quietly. “And what about my mother? She did protect me.”
Sometimes too much.
His hands clenched around mine, a muscle working in his jaw. “We can offer her sanctuary,” he said after several heartbeats. “Though I doubt she would be foolish enough to risk coming here.”
I stopped just short of reminding him that she had been exactly that foolish once before, though I wasn’t sure how true that was. Had she come to the Seelie lands or had my father gone there?
Had either of them known the truth?
“How are we supposed to do that if she can’t even come here without her life on the line?” It was a roundabout way of asking him if he had a way of getting in contact with her.
He narrowed his eyes. “We both know that a common soldier poses no risk to your mother, so ask what you want to know, Morta Mea.”
“I need to talk to her about my mana… and whatever you think of her or the Skaldwings in general, she is my mother. I need to know that she’s safe.”
His eyes darkened to the deepest shade of the winter sky lights. “I will not take you back to that place.”
I opened my mouth to argue, and he shook his head.
“But if it will keep you from hurling yourself into unnecessary danger, I will send my spies to make contact with her.”
It was better than nothing, for now. I nodded my consent, studying the tense line of his features. He had been upset before the part of the conversation I overheard, enough that an icy spike of rage had come through the bond.
“What else did Eryx say?” I asked him.
“Enough to convince me he knows about your heritage.”
The blood drained from my face. I had buried the secret so deeply for so long, it was hard to remember that the king of Winter already knew the truth.
For all the good it did the Skaldwings.
Whatever anger had dissipated under the soothing touch of his hands on mine came back in full force at the reminder of what it was to be terrified to exist all because of the circumstances of my birth.
I stepped away from Draven, shaking my head.
“Well, perhaps he can fulfill his kill on sight order and several problems can take care of themselves at once,” I offered sarcastically, letting my wings unfurl as much from spite as the temper that was spiraling out of my control.
Draven closed the distance I had put between us and more, until his chest was a whisper from mine. Placing a hand firmly under my chin, he tilted my head upward, forcing me to meet his aurora gaze.
“Make no mistake about it, Morta Mea. You are the exception to every law known to my kingdom and the Shard Mother herself, and I will take great pleasure in proving that to anyone who dares to think otherwise.” He was close enough now that the words ghosted along my lips, searing straight to my soul.
“I don’t give a single frostforsaken damn about anything that stands in the way of me protecting my wife. ”
Heat spread throughout my body, even as my mind rebelled. “Pretty words, Draven, but it’s your own law.”
He let out a frustrated huff of air, backing away incrementally. “One I will not apologize for.” He dragged his thumb along my lower lip, and I bit back a gasp.
“But somewhere in the midst of all your righteous indignation, feel free to remember that your precious Skaldwings kidnap and terrorize and enslave the villagers who are also your people, yet I refrain from marching into their lands to exterminate them. I draw the line at allowing them into mine, no matter what sentimentality you hold for them.”
His tone was every bit as yielding as the mountains in the distance. Worse still, he wasn’t wrong.
It doesn’t always have to be this way.
The words I’d hurled carelessly at the Dragon felt hopelessly na?ve just now.
I was an Unseelie married to the shards-damned Winter throne and still couldn’t manage to make the two stop killing one another. Just like the mana inside me—endlessly at war.
I arched my wings, bitterness overtaking me. “You talk about protection, but if this law is still in place when the Court finds out what I am, they will be twice as hungry for my blood as the Skaldwings ever were.”
He reached out his free hand to play along the tip of my wing, eliciting a shudder I couldn’t suppress. “They will respect what is mine or they will remember what it is to serve the Frostgrave King. Did you think I planned on hiding you forever?”
I had thought that, actually, and I still wasn’t convinced that it wasn’t the better plan. Though, whether that was my instinct to hide or his stubborn refusal to consider the implications of his own convoluted justice, I couldn't be sure.
“So I… what?” I whispered against his lips. “Stand at your side while you casually slaughter every Skaldwing who dares to visit?”
“There is nothing casual about keeping you safe.”
Nothing but stone cold determination emanated through the bond, thrumming along my skin. There was no changing his mind, not now when we were surrounded by enemies.
Maybe not ever.
And maybe it didn’t matter when the likelihood of us surviving to bear the consequences of fate and our own misguided choices dwindled with each hour Nevara refused to wake.
At least, that’s what I told myself as I finally melted into his touch, drowned in it, really, raking my claws along his skin as we exorcised our demons the only way we knew how.
We were not adept at words, nor compromise, but the fire that spread from his body to mine was a language we both knew by heart and by soul.
One thing at a time. One moment to the next. It was all either of us knew.
Still, I couldn’t help but wonder: even if we managed to survive all that was coming to us, what would be left of us when we got to the other side?
Would we still be standing at all?