Frost damned hells and ever-loving shards above…
This wasn’t going to end well.
Wynnie took several slow steps forward, the sound of her heels striking the icy floors echoing through the room loudly enough for Draven to slow his mana.
“I only meant,” Lady Thessara continued delicately, “that none of us can truly know what occurred at your estate. Strong feelings have a way of… complicating the details.”
“And tell me,” Wynnie said in that dangerous tone of hers. “What exactly would you know about the attack on my estate?”
Lady Thassara’s mouth formed a small, indignant ‘o’. Wynnie didn’t wait for a reply, however. Instead, she continued on like the furious little hurricane she was.
“Do you know what it is like to have your home overrun with frostbeasts? What it’s like to hear the sounds of your friends, your staff, the fae you are supposed to protect, as they are dismembered and disemboweled and eaten alive?”
For a moment, I was back at Thistlerun looking at the carnage. I was once again frozen as the Wretches mocked us with the screams of the dying, as the Tharnok pinned me to the floor, it’s claws ripping through my skin as I prayed that my sister was still alive.
Wynnie took another step forward, her voice once again slicing through the air like a blade.
“Do you know what it’s like to have your husband lock you in a closet to protect you, just before one of those monsters slaughters him, and you are forced to choke back the sound of your sobs as you watch so you don’t die, too? Or what it’s like to see your sister burst through the door to save you, to nearly stumble into that same fate?” she said. “No. You don’t. But I watched our queen fight off the monsters in my home and then help me scrub the blood from what was left of the walls when that was over.”
Lady Thessara swallowed, her expression going slack. With fear, or revulsion, or disbelief that my sister was sharing details of a day that most in this court never had, and likely never would, experience, and very clearly wanted less details on.
A tidal wave of contradicting emotions washed over me. Fear. Anger. Guilt. Relief.
The memory of fear from that day, knowing if we didn’t fix Winter’s mana that it wouldn’t be long before we were facing something like that again. Anger at the Skaldwings for risking my sister’s life. Guilt for not being able to do more. And relief, because despite it all, my sister was still here.
Still standing.
And some shards-damned pride as well as I remembered the chair she wielded like a weapon when she broke free from the closet.
The faintest tremor of amusement slipped through the bond, and I wondered if I’d shared that memory with him just now.
“I am only alive today because of her,” Wynnie continued. “And so are you, since she hasn’t thrown your disrespectful ass out into the bloody snow yet.”
Small murmurs echoed through the Hall.
Had we just undone all of Soren’s hard work this evening? I parted my lips to call my sister back right as Lady Thessara let out a blood-curdling scream.
Courtiers scrambled backwards as a sheen of ice encased her legs, torso, and hands before lacing up her chest and tightening around her neck. She let out a strangled gasp, her breath forming a cloud in the air in front of her just before the frost covered her mouth, too.
A muted cry came from beneath the ice, but soon that was gone, too. Layer after layer of ice coated the female, and Draven didn’t show an ounce of remorse about it.
“I thought we were past needing the reminders not to insult my wife,” he growled, scanning the remaining courtiers as icy mana danced along his fingertips. “But, if anyone else shares Lady Thessara’s opinions on the queen’s battle prowess, her family history, her mana, or anything else for that matter, speak now and your deaths will be quick, if not painless.”
The resounding hush that fell over the room was almost louder than if they had all been screaming. My ears drummed with the thundering beat of my pulse, each of my breaths echoing in my mind.
It was so easy to forget exactly who he was when it was just the two of us in our shared room, losing ourselves in one another’s bodies and minds.
My feelings warred nearly as much as my mana, a battle that raged in my soul. Was I horrified by the easy brutality?
Or strangely comforted by the knowledge that Draven would go to any lengths to insure that no harm came to me, not even allowing the seed to be planted?
Was it possible to feel both of those things at the same time?
I forced a breath through the oppressive silence in the room. It wasn’t like I would miss the conniving courtier, but neither did I love the prospect of a lifetime full of dinner in the company of corpses and fear.
That wasn’t necessary. I pushed the thought to Draven, weighing in my mind whether I entirely believed that it was true.
I assure you that it was, he sent back, his expression hard.
