At the far end was a human-sized door of the same glassy black stone the doors at the entrance had been made of.
Julian walked up to it and whispered something to the engraving of a lock at the very center of the door. It swung open silently, revealing a narrow corridor that disappeared into darkness.
No heralding magical lights here; only a gloom that sucked at her gaze until she couldn’t see anything else.
Her fingers tightened around Julian’s.
“What was that you said to make it open?” she asked.
A muscle in his jaw ticked. “I said, ‘This had better bloody work’, and tapped it with my magic.”
“Oh.”
She should walk through. That was the obvious next thing to do.
Julian was looking at her strangely.Heshould be the one walking through—he was the one who’d led her down here. It was his grand reveal.
“It feels too much like the escape route from the safe house, doesn’t it?” he said quietly.
How did he know exactly what her problem was? “Yes,” she snapped.
He squeezed her hand. “Don’t worry.”
“Why? You’re not expecting any explosives down here, just an ancient shifter whose sole purpose in life is to destroy other shifters?”
“Both.”
“Both?”
“The room is laced with explosives.”
She stared at him. “You’re not reassuring me here.”
“It doesn’t make you feel safer knowing there is a failsafe if the Soul-Eater breaks free?”
“Nothing about this makes me feel safe,” she growled. “If it explodes while we’re down here—”
“It won’t. Nothing will happen. The Soul-Eater has been secured in this prison for generations. He will not escape today.”
He drew her close. Silver danced between them, and all her scared anger evaporated. She swallowed. “You shouldn’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Soften up when I start to get mad.”
“You’re not angry. You’re scared.” Before she could react to that, he closed the space between them, his voice too gentle and too warm against her ear. “And you’re not hiding it behind misery, or cruelty, or that icy mask you’re so good at putting on. When I see that? I can’t help myself.”
He pressed a kiss to the side of her head. “Especially when you get angry on my account.”
She swallowed. “I’m worried aboutmyselfgetting blown up,” she lied.
“You’re worried I’m still lost in grief over losing my sister and the rest of the shadow dragons. You’re worried I can feel every painful scar where Harper stole one of my dragon’s scales, and every illicit touch when someone uses one of them. You’re worried I am hiding even more injuries, since I shifted to dragon form and flew you here to the ice.”
Her jaw tightened. “How can you know that?”
“I know you better than you think, Francine Delacourt. Better than I even knew I did, before I got you away from that ship.”
She was trapped in his eyes, lost in the faceted emeralds that saw more than he ever let on.
