Page 1 of A Bond of Ice and Glass (Crowned By Wings #2)

T here’s mist everywhere. A soft, haunting mist—not quite grey or white like I expected, but dark, like ash floating on the wind. The dampness in the air coats my lips and tongue while the rest of my senses fill with a scent that haunts me more than everything else.

Fire and roses.

As the mist moves and sways, I look down to where the ground is covered in black roses. They’re on fire, but I’m not burning. I stare into the mist, the endless cloud enveloping me, and catch the shadow walking towards me.

No, not a shadow. A man.

I can only slightly make him out from this distance.

Tall, with broad shoulders, and white starlight hair.

He’s running for me. Running like he’s desperate to get as close as he can.

I can’t move. My feet are stuck in the burning roses, drenched in it as the fire catches my white dress and burns it into flames at my feet.

I don’t notice the fire, the roses or the mist because the man running my way has my full attention.

He makes my heart race. I feel something deep down in my heart, from my soul, that I should run to him too, but I do not know who he is.

He is terrifying and massive, and a stranger to me.

Now he is getting closer. I can see his eyes and they are as striking as the rest of him.

One eye is gold, a vibrant, beautiful gold, and the other is emerald green.

So strange… I don’t think I’ve seen eyes like his before.

There is a gold scar running from his eye and down his face too.

It doesn’t take away from how breathtakingly beautiful he is.

It adds to his menacing aura, though. The man looks at me with an intensity that makes my heartbeat stutter, like I’m his entire world.

No one has ever looked at me this way before.

He’s so close I can smell his scent of burning leaves and flowers.

The same flowers that are burning around us.

He reaches out to touch me. I’m almost within his reach.

Closer and closer, his fingers nearly brush my hair, but then I scream as the ground suddenly devours me.

Before he can say a word, I’m falling away from him, down into the darkness, and straight out of the dream like it’s not really here.

“MIST! NO!”

I hear him screaming for me, a word that somehow feels like a name when it shouldn’t be, and somehow, I want to stay right here with him. But there’s only darkness. No more fire. No more roses…

“You have a fever.” A woman’s voice fills my ears. Something soft and wet drags across my forehead. “You should rest. Don’t try to get up. Sleep will help you heal.”

Whoever the woman is, I know she’s right, even if I don’t have a clue who she is. My shivering body feels as though I’ve been dunked inside an icy lake, yet I’m sweating all over.

I open my eyes, first taking in the thin sheet covering my body.

The bed cushioning me is soft, the blankets and pillows carrying the scent of lavender.

Beside me, the strange woman pats my head with the wet cloth.

I run my tongue over my dry, crackled lips, wincing at the awful taste in my mouth.

I try to lift my arms, but they don’t move.

It’s like they’re being forced down by invisible weights. I’m tired, so tired.

What happened to me? Where am I? Where’s Loch?

I glance at the woman. I was right; I don’t know her.

She’s much older than me, wrinkles marking every inch of her weathered face, but she has kind brown eyes.

Her grey hair is short, and two single braids fall to her slender shoulders, touching my arm as she hovers over me.

I try to pull away from her, my body recoiling from the touch, but I still can’t move.

“Princess Maelena, please try to stay calm. Your heart is racing and I am not sure if it is because of the fever or just because you’re scared. You’re safe here.”

“Where is here ?” I rasp, my throat burning. “Who are you?”

My words come out a bit hushed, and it hurts to get them out.

My lips crack painfully as I move my mouth and try to sit up unaided.

The woman hums to herself a song that I don’t recognise as she insists on helping me sit.

She continues humming while she fluffs pillows at my back before passing me a glass of water. She doesn’t answer my questions.

Gently, I open my mouth and let the water through.

The sharp, bitter taste coats my tongue.

I wince; however, the first drops do help my lips feel considerably less cracked, and by the time I’ve forced half of the glass down, my throat doesn’t feel as dry or sore.

I’m guessing the drink isn’t just water.

“Slowly,” the old woman warns, touching my arm. “This will help you heal faster. I’m Magra. I’ve been taking care of you. Easy now. You’re still very weak.”

“Where… am I?” I press again. I have so many questions.

“There was a man in my dreams. He was right there, he was…” I shake my head.

I almost want to say familiar , but I don’t know him.

A man with a gold eye, a scar and as beautifully imposing as he was…

I’d remember his name. He never came to the nuns.

No one that looked like him ever did. “Where is my uncle?”

“Princess Maelena, calm. You’re safe, but I don’t have all the answers.

I’m just here to heal you. I’m only a quarter witch.

” She taps the glass in my hands. “I don’t have a lot of magic, but I grow herbs with what magic I do have, and they help all sorts of wounds.

Like yours. You were very sick but fought through it.

There is much strength in your spirit. Magic was used by others only to help heal you faster.

” She lowers her voice, her gaze softening. “What do you remember, Princess?”

“I…”

I don’t know.

My mind feels like it’s been split in two and all the memories jumbled around. She taps my hand once.

“Well, it doesn’t matter for now. It’s just good to see you awake. I’m sure the others will be relieved too.”

The others? The woman, who still hasn’t told me anything useful, stands and prepares to leave. I grab her hand before she pulls away. “Does one of them have a gold eye? I dreamt about a man like that, just now… He was calling me Mist. There was fire and burning flowers everywhere, and I was?—”

“Fevers are known to mess with the mind, Princess. It can make the strongest warriors mumble the strangest things you’ve ever heard.”

“But this man, it was like…” I bite my tongue, unsure if I should tell her. The words escape me before I can catch them. “It was like I knew him.”

For a moment, Magra’s eyes soften before she quickly pulls her hand away.

“You spoke many things in your delirium, Princess, but try not to worry. The fever broke last night and you should be feeling a lot better soon.” She smooths her hands down the front of her black dress. “I’ll leave you to rest.”

She gives a quick curtsy and then shuffles out of the room. I watch the heavy wooden door close behind her. The silence that follows in her wake does nothing to settle my unease. I glance around the room, hoping to make sense of my surroundings, but everything is foreign to me.

The chamber is sparse yet elegant. Dark stone walls are dressed with faded tapestries, and a carved hearth crackles softly against the far wall.

The four-poster bed I’m lying in dominates the space, its royal blue sheets tucked beneath a canopy of draped gold curtains.

Even the dark wood furniture bears delicate gold inlays, as if trying to mask the cold with opulence.

A knock on the door startles me. Could this be one of the others the witch spoke of? My pulse soars and I wet my lips, getting ready to speak, but the handle turns and the doors open before I can.

Another woman enters the room. As she steps into the light streaming through the bay window, all I can think about is that she looks exactly how I imagined a witch to look like.

Her long black hair hangs over a shoulder in one thick, complicated braid.

Black leather boots poke out from her black dress as she makes her way over to the bed, the heels scraping against the light wooden floorboards.

She’s completely dressed in black, with thin rose gold chains wrapped around her wrists that match the colour of my hair.

The chains are twisted tightly around her tawny skin, and they go up her arms to her biceps. A fashion choice for witches, I assume.

Strange gold markings paint her face, decorating her features in a way that makes her dark eyes stand out.

I can’t quite place the runes, but there’s something familiar about them.

They twist around her cheeks and down her chin, all the way to the bottom of her neck.

They glow softly in the light, pulsing with magic.

I don’t stare for too long at them before meeting her eyes, which are the darkest black, only made to look brighter by her long gold eyelashes and her high cheekbones.

A thin gold line is drawn across her eyelids.

The woman is beautiful but equally terrifying at the same time.

Two sharp canines flash from under full pink lips when she smiles at me.

“Good. You didn’t die.” The woman stops beside the bed and pulls something out from her dress pocket.

It’s covered in a white napkin. “You must’ve swallowed a gallon of that old toad’s potions.

I brought some cake to wash it down.” She sets the wrapped delicacy down on the bedside table, next to the vase of roses.

“Figured it might help get rid of the taste.”

“Thanks…” I watch her lean against the bedpost. “Who are you?”

She tilts her head at me, her cat-like eyes taking me in. “You won’t die, that’s all that matters, but forget the man if you know what’s good for you.” She turns to the healer and waves a dismissive hand at her. “Get the fuck out.”