Every last one of their faces was unmistakably familiar.
Soldiers. Spies. Trusted contacts who kept our borders safe from the shadows creeping in.
Eryx ripped the cloth off the other barrel to reveal even more familiar faces.
“The Shadow Clan,” he said tightly, holding my gaze, “sent these to the palace gates an hour ago. All marked as gifts for the Thane’s niece."
Chapter 23
Everly
Icrumpled the note, only to unfold it for the thousandth time, staring daggers at the words written in my uncle’s hand. Even his penmanship was unyielding—spiky and jagged. Violent by its very nature.
These frostlings thought they could hide in the shadows, but they forgot that those shadows belong to me. So I’ve gifted their heads to you, Little Niece, so those holding you captive might know how little we will tolerate their treachery.
I wanted to set the frost-damned parchment on fire.My treachery,he meant. He could dress it up like concern, but it was a warning all the same, for daring to walk away from him a second time.
Each word landed like a mocking echo of everything Eryx had just accused me of. My very existence wasn’t merely inconvenient—it was a liability. A weapon pointed at the Court.
At Draven.
At every soldier who had marched out with the promise of coming home again… the same ones I’d relied on to reach mymother, only to send them straight into the hands of my uncle, instead.
And now that my father had proven to have nothing useful to add, we were back to the beginning, with exactly no options to reach my mother.
“We’ll send more spies,” Draven said when I reminded him of that fact. His voice was low and steady in a way that was almost convincing.
“So they can die too?” My throat burned. “You saw what he did.”
We were back in his suites now, though the acrid scent from the barrels still permeated my lungs like it had in the war room every time I looked at the shards-blasted note.
“They knew what they were risking, Morta Mea,” Draven growled. “The Thane is trying to get in your head.”
“Well, it’s working,” I fired back.
I couldn’t shake the guilt creeping in. The spies may have known they were risking their lives, but they hadn’t known why. They hadn’t known that it was for me or even who the shards-damned hells I really was.
“He would have killed any traitors he rooted out, regardless of where you were or if you even existed,” Draven replied evenly. “Just as I would.”
“Of course you would.” I saw frozen chunks of fae skittering across the marble floors, pictured Alaric’s agonized scream just before Draven ended his life. “Because shards forbid either of you find a way to solve your problems that doesn’t involve killing or maiming or torturing someone into submission.”
I turned away, but Draven caught my arm gently in his grasp. He stepped closer, close enough that I could feel the inexplicable warmth of his chest seeping through my spine. Close enough that his breath brushed the shell of my ear, all warm, and soft, and dangerous.
“Is that what you want, Morta Mea?” he asked. “For me to let every threat to you, to us, to this realm walk freely and unchecked until they dare to touch what belongs to me?”
His voice was low, deadly. Smug enough that I wanted to argue.
And I would have, if not for the traitorous little voice in the back of my mind reminding me of our rings. Would they betray me? Would they tell him the truth, vibrate with my lies and reveal that I was tired of being afraid, tired enough that I might prefer Lady Thessara becoming a frozen snack for my favorite wolves over risking what her dissent might grow into down the line?
“No, Draven. I don’t want threats to either of us to go unchecked, but that doesn’t mean I want them all dead, either.”
He sighed, backing away from me, and I missed his warmth before I could stop myself.
“Naivete is a luxury of the citizens who are allowed to pretend they would never sully their hands with the same decisive actions that keep them safe and alive day in and day out.” He moved on slow predatorial footsteps until he was standing in front of me. “But it doesn’t quite work for a queen.”
I narrowed my eyes.
“You think it’s naïve to want a court that doesn’t hinge on daily slaughter?”
