Page 24 of Bound to the Shadow Queen (Frostbound Court #2)

Everly

I spent the rest of the morning with my books, trying to release some of the restless energy at knowing my sister should be arriving today…assuming she was still safe. And that my frost twat of a husband didn’t decide to take her to the dungeons instead of here.

To avoid thinking about that, I organized the spines on the shelf by color, taking comfort in the familiar motions.

Though most of my books were the same, the librarians had sent a single unfamiliar tome. When I went to pick it up, Batty let out her most offended shrill yet. She flapped over to the skathryn compendium I had all but forgotten about, looking between my hands and the book pointedly.

“All right, I’m sorry.” I slid the new book back onto the shelf, next to the journal from the nameless queen and the endless volumes I had requested what felt like a lifetime ago.

Batty’s wings relaxed incrementally as I brought the book on skathryns to the chair by the fireplace in my bedroom. She settled herself on my shoulder like she was perched to read the book with me, and I shook my head, cracking open the small leather tome.

The first several pages were mostly anatomy diagrams, depicting the subtle differences between each Court’s little bats. I dutifully studied them, lest Batty be offended again that I skipped any of it. The next section was a brief overview of skathryns, traits that were common to all four kinds.

“Oh look, it says here you can sing an enchanting song. Want to give it a try?”

Batty opened her tiny mouth…and let out a discordant screech pitched high enough to rupture my eardrums.

“Well. Let’s see what else in this book is a lie, then, shall we?”

But before I could turn the page, the door to my bedroom crashed open. I froze, then hurled myself up from the chair, letting the book clatter to the floor.

Because this wasn’t Draven’s furious surge of mana, and it certainly wasn’t Healer Amias’ subdued knock. No, this was an exuberant sound I knew well, from the only person in this world or the next that I knew in my soul would always be on my side.

“Wynnie.” Her name left my lips like a breath, even before a wave of honey and snowdrops reached me.

I spun to face her, catching the faint hint of sulphur and the coppery tang of blood just as I saw the bandages on her skin.

“You’re hurt—” I didn’t get the words out before her arms wrapped around me.

I was shaking in her embrace, relief washing over me in waves.

No… it was her arms that were trembling. My unflappable, fierce sister, who had faced down an estate full of monsters and blood-drenched halls with a battle cry, was clinging to me with hitched breaths.

“Evy, I thought I had lost you.”

My eyes burned. Hadn’t I thought the same thing? Worried about her, wondering if I would ever see her again…

“Wait, I thought you said I was going to be fine.” The memories were hazy and far away, but I had dreamt of her voice more than once.

“I lied,” she choked on the words. “I was trying to save you with psychological warfare at that point.”

There was a beat of silence before we both laughed.

“Well, it was a solid plan,” I said, finally relenting to let go of her.

“And look,” I continued as she laced her fingers through mine, squeezing tightly like she was afraid of too much space between us just yet. “As a reward, you get to be imprisoned with me.”

With my free hand, I gestured to the door, which had shut behind her with an ominous twist of the lock.

Her expression hardened, her bright blue gaze narrowing in on the door handle.

“We’ll see about that,” she said before taking a better look around. “But there are certainly worse prisons to be trapped— What is making that sound?”

I had become so accustomed to Batty’s trilling that it took me a moment to realize the high-pitched squeak of surprise was, in fact, coming from my skathryn.

“Oh, that’s just… Batty.”

Wynnie quirked a delicate white eyebrow. “Batty?”

I nodded. “My skathryn...”

She blinked slowly as I pulled back my sleeve to reveal the tiny frostbat clinging to my wrist.

“Your…skathryn,” she echoed, taking a single step backward without letting go of my hand. “Who is…very much…”

“Venomous, yes, I do know, but she saves those tendencies for people who irritate her.”

Batty let out a grumpy squawk of agreement, her onyx eyes narrowing at my sister before she burrowed her face deeper into my sleeve.

“Well, that’s very comforting then.” Wynnie chuckled, shaking back the pale, spiral curls still stiff with crusted blood. “You do seem to have an affinity for deadly things these days.”

There was an undertone in her voice, something sharper than teasing. She wasn’t talking about hearsay or reputation…she meant Draven.

But before I could form a reply, something lanced through me.

A prickle swept down my spine, sharp as claws scraping along bone.

My vision flickered, the edges dimming in and out, as though the world itself had faltered for the span of a heartbeat.

The sensation was cold and wrong, heavy enough to hollow out my chest, and somehow tugging at the same part of me that could feel my husband’s mana.

I blinked hard, sucking in a breath, but when my gaze darted to Wynnie, she was still smiling faintly, utterly untouched.

She hadn’t felt it.

Was it exhaustion? My mind playing tricks? Or had the horrors carved into me by Kyros twisted something deeper—left echoes in my bones that wouldn’t fade?

Wynnie gave my hand a comforting squeeze before dropping it. “Now, how about you give me a tour of our dungeon? Or at least show me where the bath is?”

I forced a shaky laugh, shoving the lingering dread down where she wouldn’t see it. “Sorry, I know you’re tired.”

“I am…” she gave a small, pointed sniff, her nose wrinkling. “But I meant for you.”

I convinced Wynnie to get into the bath first. She argued all the way into the bathing chamber until her eyes landed on the glorious tub. Then her mana was moving faster than I had time to explain, already calling for the steaming water to fill the marble bath.

I pulled oils and soaps from the cabinet, choosing scents I knew she would prefer, before adding them to the water.

Her eyes were as big as saucers as she stared longingly down at the bubbles, while I tugged at the laces of her gown. The fabric fell heavy to the floor, and I unwound the bandage from her arm with careful fingers.

She flinched, the smallest jerk, but it was enough to hollow out my chest.

Alaric’s death flashed behind my eyes, the way his body had spasmed, shredded by ice. Wynnie had flinched then, too. Flinched away from an explosion of ice.

My stomach lurched. The words tore out before I could stop them.

“Did he…” I braced myself. “Hurt you? Did Draven?”

I could hardly force the question past my lips. I knew he was a monster in his own right, that he had used the threat of my sister against me, but keeping her in the dungeon was still not the same as torturing her.

Wynnie shimmied out of her undergarments before slipping into the steaming bath with a hiss of breath. It was only then that she seemed to register my question.

“No,” she said in a firm voice. “No, he never hurt me.”

She stressed the last word just enough that I knew what she was referring to.

“But you were there, when…” My throat closed around the memory, and I forced myself to continue. “Sometimes I see things. From him.” I lifted my hand, my ring catching the low light of the lanterns. “Dreams? Visions? I don’t know. But I saw you. I saw him?—”

Her pale brows furrowed, a shadow passing over her face. She nodded slowly. “It’s not what you think. He was trying to find you.”

The sincerity behind her eyes and words was almost jarring, all things considered.

“Are you…defending him?”

It was a stark contrast to the last conversation we’d had in these suites, the one on my wedding day, when she was so sure there was a way out of this.

My sister drew in a long, ragged breath.

“I have no desire to defend that frost-loving ass-face for anything he’s ever done, but you don’t know what it was like to wake up and find they’d taken you. In chains.” Her voice trembled, barely, so subtle I might have missed it if not for the rare sheen of tears glossing her eyes.

“I saw from my window as they dragged you through the air in chains, but he had frozen me in the room after he burst in looking for you, so I couldn’t do anything.”

I sucked in a breath. Had he done it so she wouldn’t interfere? So she would be safe? Wynnie was right. I had never considered what happened in the minutes before he emerged from the house.

“I couldn’t get to you. I couldn’t save you.” She swallowed. “Just like I couldn’t save Yorrick.”

All over again, I saw my sister’s husband on their bedroom floor. Saw the Tharnok hovering over him. Smelled the blood…

He was already gone by the time I made it upstairs, but Wynnie had been forced to watch for however long as the monsters turned her husband into a meal.

My throat burned.

“But you saved me before that,” I whispered, trying to summon a smile. “You and that fearsome chair.”

She barked out a sob-laugh. “And I did keep King Frosthole alive long enough to tell him where to find you.”

I stiffened. “You told him?”

“Well, I made him vow not to kill you first. My options were limited.” Her lips tightened, her tone heavy with honesty.

She sighed. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you, Evy. I can hate him for many things, not least of which is forcing you into this marriage, glorious bathtubs notwithstanding. But I can’t be a hypocrite. I led him to that hideout. And I would’ve tortured them myself if he hadn’t done it first.”

Nothing but raw honesty blazed from her eyes, and it struck me that though Wynnie and I had spent half of our lives together, we hadn’t had the same experiences. Like Draven, she didn’t know what it was to be on the other end of that torture. To fear for your existence.

But then…Wynnie was the closest person in the world to me, and the best person I knew. I thought of the unrelenting panic that had consumed me when the monsters were at her estate.

If someone had taken her, what wouldn’t I have done to get her back?

It was an uncomfortable feeling. Were we all just one tragedy away from being Kyros?

I dipped a basin into the bath and poured warm water gently over her curls. She sighed, closing her eyes as I worked lather into her hair, scrubbing away blood and whatever else had found its way there.

I tried not to think about the night Draven had done the same for me, his hands steady as mine shook, his gentleness so at odds with the frost in his eyes. I tried not to remember how, no matter how many times I scrubbed or drained the tub, I hadn’t felt clean.

“So what happened, then?” I asked, shaking the memory free and rinsing her hair. “How did you get hurt?”

She opened her eyes again, her brow knitting together incredulously.

“Wyverns,” she said, and my mouth fell open.

“You saw them?” I asked, dropping the basin into the tub with a splash.

Wynnie let out a bitter laugh. “I didn’t just see them. The beasts were hunting us.”

“More than one?” I sat back on my heels, struggling to process the information.

Wyverns weren’t common, not anymore, at least. But especially not in Seelie territory.

I thought of the books and journals that littered my room at my father’s estate. The drawings and notes I’d made in the margins about different monsters and creatures. But especially wyverns. I had obsessed over them.

They were as close as I would ever come to seeing a dragon. And once I left the Wilds, they were the closest thing I had to home, but between hunting parties and frostbeasts, I had never seen one in Winter.

“They hunted us from the moment we left the hideout,” my sister continued. “Nevara was able to evade the first one, but by the time we reached the Frostmere Plains, we realized we were being led into a trap.”

She leaned over the side of the tub and reached into the pocket of her discarded gown. When she straightened, a familiar black dagger gleamed in her hand, its edge catching the light with a faint, dangerous glow.

“It came in handy,” Wynnie said simply, a grim smile ghosting her lips.

I stared at the blade— my blade —its edge still darkened with blood.

The bath steamed, curling around memories of the first time it was pressed into my palm, of it landing in the hide of the Mirrorbane, and then as it lay in the snow the night my clan came to fetch me home.

Wynnie continued speaking, but her voice faded into the background. The shadows of the lavatory seemed to lean closer, and that prickling along my spine returned.

I dipped a towel into the bath water to wipe the blood off my blade, and wondered, not for the first time, whether either of us would ever be clean again.