Whatever anger had dissipated under the soothing touch of his hands on mine came back in full force at the reminderof 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 naïve 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 nothingcasualabout 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?
Chapter 16
Everly
The next several days passed in a strange delicate balance. Not calm—never calm—but quiet, in that brittle, strained way a frozen lake goes still just before it splits beneath your feet.
From what little I could see from the tower, and reports from Wynnie and Mirelda, the palace appeared steady enough. Courtiers resumed their measured routines. Servants moved through the halls with practiced composure. The kingdom wore its serenity like armor, pretending it had not come terrifyingly close to shattering.
But the reports still kept coming. More attacks along the borders. Shapes moving just beyond the wards at night… close enough to feel, never close enough to strike. Patrols spoke of eyes glinting between the trees, of tracks that vanished at the wardline as if whatever made them knew exactly how far it could go.
