Page 14 of Bound to the Shadow Queen (Frostbound Court #2)

I shoved the questions down to dissect later. If there even was a later….

“If I’m such a ruin waiting to happen, Kyros, maybe the real question is why you’re so obsessed. Or is it just easier to hate me than to wonder why your own Seer didn’t name you?”

My comment struck a chord, if his expression was anything to go by.

His pupils widened, his golden eyes darkening to a gleaming shade of onyx as his blade gently kissed my cheek.

“Careful,” he murmured. “I am not my brother. I do not play at politics. And I do not coddle Seelie pets. I cut out rot before it spreads.”

The sharp sting of steel broke my skin, pain blooming as blood dripped down my face.

I fought like hell to keep my expression even, though my pulse thundered like it might split me open. I needed to buy myself time, to change tactics. Maybe if I kept him talking long enough, Tavrik would grow a pair and actually stop Kyros before he killed me.

Or maybe squirrels would learn to fly…

“So what’s the plan, then?” I asked, proud of the way my voice didn’t crack. “To keep me here long enough to make the clans see reason? Or will you be the hero, and kill the unarmed female in chains?”

Kyros’ grin sharpened into something feral.

“Hero?” He leaned closer, his breath hot against my skin. “No. I’ll leave my brother to his fantasies. I don’t need glory. I just want to watch you bleed.”

The dagger pressed harder, dragging down my arm until it scraped the shackle on my wrist. Pain ripped up my nerves, searing so hot that my vision blurred.

I sank my teeth into my bottom lip to hold back the cry clawing its way up my throat and all I tasted was blood.

The dagger bit into my shoulder next, carving its way through veins and tendons. This time I couldn’t hold back my scream.

All over again I was that child on a stone table, restraints biting into my wrists. The searing edge of iron dragging across my skin while the mages’ cold, clinical voices catalogued every flinch, every sob, and every spasm.

The way they’d whispered Hollow like a curse while they carved down to the bone, searching for mana that refused to answer.

Once, I’d thought of them as sadists because of their calculating expressions and the way they noted the endless cycle of agony and pain they subjected children to with a clinical sort of detachment…

But I’d been wrong. So, very, very, wrong.

Misguided as the mages were, they at least worked toward a purpose.

This was different. Kyros really did just want to watch me bleed. Over, and over again, he dragged his blade through my skin, his pupils blowing wide, his grin going wider as he marveled at his work.

“Enough.” Tavrik’s voice cut through my sobs, echoing against the stone walls of the cave. He stepped forward, hands twitching as though he meant to intervene. “Kyros, this has gone too far?—”

The male in question froze, the tip of his dagger twisting idly around the crook of my neck.

“And who are you to tell me when I’m finished?” he panted out the question, slowly turning his attention toward Tavrik.

Tavrik hesitated, a muscle working in his clenched jaw. For a heartbeat, I thought— hoped —he might actually stop Kyros, that he might even convince the others to help. That all of this could be over and done, and we would be back on our way to the village.

But of course, that was little more than a fantasy.

Kyros was fast.

His shadow blurred across the cave within the span of a heartbeat. His fist struck with brutal precision, cracking against Tavrik’s temple. The male crumpled, sprawling unconscious on the stone floor.

There wasn’t even time to feel relief at the break in pain, not when he was back in front of me just as quickly.

“Take care of him,” Kyros snarled at his warriors.

Then his cruel gaze slid back to me. The bloody dagger rising again.

Panic clawed at my throat. I tugged helplessly at the shackles, the iron burning deeper into my raw skin.

“You have to know how this ends, Kyros,” I said, doing my best to meet his eyes. “There is no way out of this that won’t end in war for our clans. My uncle won’t let this stand, and your brother?—”

“My brother is weak,” he snapped. “And your uncle sees you for the sniveling Winter bastard the rest of us do. He has no real love for you. You are little more than a trophy he is desperate to pawn off on another clan to get his way.”

He let out a dark laugh that echoed off the cavern walls. “What do you think will happen when he wakes up tomorrow to find you gone after you openly defied him? After you made it clear how much you still believe in your precious king?”

I wanted to argue. I tried. But every response died on my blood-soaked lips.

“He will think you’ve run back to your Frostgrave monster. That you chose those Seelie scum over us. Won’t he, Frostling ?”

I swallowed back a sob.

He was right. Of course he was.

Maybe my uncle and mother would send out a search party, maybe they would find pieces of my corpse littering the border. But I could see it all playing out so clearly now, how easily the monster in front of me would deflect suspicion.

After all, no one had dragged me from my guarded rooms. No one had forced me to leave the hut. I had done that all on my own.

Kyros made a tutting sound and shook his head. I tried to fight the burning at the back of my eyes, but hopelessness overwhelmed me as he dug the blade into my skin once again, this time deeper into my neck.

Tears streamed down my cheeks.

More memories flashed through my mind, moments in time where all I felt was pain and the looming presence of death waiting in the shadows.

The hot breath of Tharnoks pressing in on me. The whispers of the Voidtouched on the mountains. The bite of thorny bramble against my half-frozen feet as I raced toward a family I didn’t know if I could trust, all while believing my mother had died. Died protecting me.

But this time there was no sister to comfort me and bring me in from the cold. No uncle to stop the mages from going too far. And no husband to slay the monsters that were coming in on every side.

I closed my eyes and swallowed down the plea forming on my lips. It wouldn’t help anyway. All it would do is sate his sadistic desire to hear me beg.

So I went somewhere deep inside of myself, trying to shut out the agony of each slice of his blade, the laughter of the fae around us, and the bone-deep knowledge that cruelty was the same the world over, and always seemed to prey on the weak.

It was all I could do to keep my wings in, the single thing I wouldn’t let him hurt, no matter how hard he tried to taunt and torture me into releasing them. When the darkness finally came for me, I welcomed it. It was the only reprieve I had.

Somewhere past the scent of blood, I caught the faint hint of juniper and fresh snow. Mountain air. Heady, powerful.

Furious.

Like the frostbeasts that roamed the Winter Court.

No, that wasn’t quite right. A monster, but not those…

My monster .

It was the last conscious thought I had before a wave of icy mana swept over the room. Darkness overtook me.

Morta Mea .

Whether it was real or in my head, the words made sense. My death .

Time and time again, every road seemed to lead here.