Chapter nine
The harpy released her without warning.
Briar fell the last six feet, her shoulder hitting the ice-slicked stone of the balcony first. The impact sent lightning through the talon wounds, fresh blood seeping through the cloak. She rolled, gasping, her bound wrists making it impossible to catch herself properly. The stone was so cold it burned through the thin nightgown, stealing what little warmth she had left.
She looked up to see a polished boot inches from her face.
Memory and terror crashed over her simultaneously—his hand tangling in her hair, yanking her head back. The cold invasion of his kiss, tongue forcing past her lips while she couldn't move, couldn't fight. The frost spreading from his touch, claiming over Eliam's marks.
She scrambled backward, ignoring the screaming pain in her shoulders, her palms sliding on ice that coated everything. The balcony stretched behind her, twenty feet of carved stone and decorative railings with a deadly drop beyond. No doors. No stairs. No escape except through the archway where he stood, blocking it completely.
"Lady Briar." Malachar's voice carried the same cultured tone she remembered, smooth and satisfied. "What an unexpected pleasure."
He looked different than her nightmares had painted him. An ornate patch covered his ruined eye, the metal worked to look like frozen tears or perhaps ice crystals, beautiful in its craftsmanship. The remaining eye studied her with an intensity that made her skin crawl. He wore white and pale blue, every inch the Winter Lord in his domain, and when he smiled at her, she wanted to vomit.
"Stay away from me." The words came out cracked, her throat raw from screaming during the flight.
"Such hostility." He stepped forward, unhurried, and she retreated further back until her spine hit the balcony railing. The cold of it shocked through the wet fabric. "And after I've gone to such trouble to ensure your safe arrival."
Safe. She might have laughed if she hadn’t been so cold.
"Though I must say," he continued, moving closer with deliberate steps that echoed off the stone, "you look somewhat worse for wear. My allies were clearly... overly enthusiastic in their retrieval."
He crouched just out of her reach, or what would have been her reach if her hands weren't bound. This close, she could see the frost that gathered in his platinum hair, the unnatural paleness of his skin, and the way his remaining eye tracked over her slowly, cataloging damage.
"Shoulder wounds need tending. Wrists are bleeding. And you're shivering." He tilted his head, and she saw something shift in his expression, a flicker of something like anticipation. "We can't have you catching your death before Lord Malus arrives to collect his gift."
Gift? The word made her stomach turn. "I'm not—"
"Oh, but you are." He stood smoothly, looking down at her with that satisfied smile. "My dear friend specifically requested that I retrieve you. Hold you safely until he completes his business in the Forest Court. Three days, he said. Perhaps four." The smile widened. "So much time for us to become reacquainted."
Three days. Three days of this, of him, of whatever revenge he'd planned while nursing his ruined eye. The warmth in her chest contracted painfully, recoiling from him, from this place, from the wrongness that saturated everything here. It made her feel sick, dizzy, like her body was rejecting the very air.
"Come now." He extended a hand toward her, palm up in mock courtesy. "Let's get you inside before you freeze. I've had rooms prepared, warm clothing, and a healer for those unfortunate wounds." His eye glinted. "I am more than just the monster you seem to think I am."
Briar pressed harder against the railing, the drop behind her almost preferable to taking his hand. But the cold was already making her fingers numb, her body shaking so hard her teeth chattered. The blood loss was making everything fuzzy at the edges.
"I can have the harpies carry you inside instead," he offered, his tone suggesting he might enjoy it. "Though they're less gentle than I am. As you've discovered."
Through the archway behind him, she could see warmth shimmering in the air like a haze. Beyond there were fireplaces and furs and walls that would block the killing wind. In the end, her body betrayed her, leaning toward him even as her mind screamed warnings.
"There we are." His satisfaction was palpable as she forced herself to her feet, ignoring his hand and using the railing for support. "Such a practical creature when properly motivated."
He turned, walking through the archway without looking back, completely confident she would follow. And she did, because the alternative was freezing to death on his balcony, and she needed to survive long enough for—
For what? For someone to rescue her? Karse and Thaine had been fighting harpies when she'd been taken. The Forest Court didn't know where she was. The Star Court thought she'd left with Thaine.
No one was coming.
The thought nearly brought her to her knees, but she forced herself forward, each step leaving bloody footprints on the pristine floor. At least inside she might find something, a weapon, an exit, anything.
Malachar led her through corridors of ice and stone, past windows that showed nothing but white peaks and more impossible drops. Her wet nightgown clung to her, and she could feel his eye on her, watching.
"Your rooms," he said finally, opening a door to reveal a space that took her breath away despite her terror.
The chamber was vast, dominated by soaring gothic windows that reached nearly to the vaulted ceiling. The glass was frosted at the edges but clear in the center, revealing a view of snow-covered peaks and endless sky. Ornate columns framed each window, carved with patterns that looked like frozen waterfalls or perhaps climbing ice.
A fire crackled in an elaborate hearth carved from what appeared to be a single piece of pale marble, the mantle decorated with crystal formations that caught and threw back the firelight. The bed was massive, its frame made of dark wood that contrasted with the pale stone walls. White and silver furs were piled so high she could barely see the elaborately carved headboard beneath them. Pillows in shades of ice blue and pearl were arranged against it, soft as clouds.
