Page 26 of Bound to the Shadow Queen (Frostbound Court #2)

Everly

Over the next few days, Wynnie and I moved slowly, picked at the food Mirelda brought us, and traded our broken stories back and forth.

My time back in the Unseelie Wilds, or as much of it as I could bring myself to share.

And hers of wyverns and the time she’d spent first with my husband, then with the Visionary.

She told me about flying on the back of a griffon, which she swore was not nearly as fun as it sounded. Though her opinion was likely colored by the whole, wyvern knocking them out of the air thing.

Every night, we sat by the fire, sipping on the single glass of wine Mirelda consented to bring each of us. Well, technically, she had offered to bring more if we finished our dinner, like a parent bribing a child with the promise of dessert.

I didn’t have the heart to tell her that all food tastes like ashes when there is carnage every time I close my eyes, a sentiment Wynnie shared.

So we nursed our paltry glasses of wine and took the small win.

“The Visionary is…interesting,” Wynnie said, casting a sad look at her half empty glass.

“She is,” I agreed, not entirely sure what to say about the ethereal female who had almost been my friend.

She hadn’t come to see me, and I wasn’t naive enough to think that an order from Draven could have kept her away.

“Whatever happened, I think that Draven blamed her for it, at least at first.” Wynnie’s tone held the slightest hint of a question. “They argued while the assface locked me in an ice cage.”

I pursed my lips. I had thought about my last conversation with Nevara enough times to make myself physically ill, turning her words over and over until they burned like bile.

I don’t blame you, I had promised.

Sometimes you do , she had countered.

She was right, and she was wrong. It was hard not to wonder how much of the past few weeks could have been avoided, but I would never give back the chance to save my sister, even if I had known it would end like this.

“I don’t envy Nevara her choices,” I said quietly.

Wynnie nodded, hearing my answer for what it was. I had seen the weight of the Visionary’s burden. If she was to blame for the things that had happened, she certainly wasn’t alone.

We had all made choices we couldn’t come back from.

Nevara wasn’t the only one I hadn’t seen. The healer had only returned once to help heal Wynnie’s injuries and make one final check of me. Soren had likely actually been banned from my rooms—though I had no doubt he knew I was here. I suspected there was little in the palace he wasn’t aware of.

Then there was Draven.

I saw small images from him, a snippet of a conversation with his Lord General, frozen shards of monster sailing through the air. And of course, I felt him. The marriage bond had taken to acting like a particularly stubborn compass, endlessly tugging me in whatever direction he was.

It was worse when he was in his rooms, his power humming along my skin like a hoard of stinging insects, painful in its intensity, burning with just enough frustration to match my own.

His fury had dampened somewhat, morphing into something closer to an angry resignation. It was a feeling I could relate to.

He hated that I was a liar and a Skaldwing, and I hated that he was a bastard who couldn’t see past his own privilege long enough to understand the position he had put me in.

Neither of us ever broached the door between our rooms, and I hadn’t yet been willing to change that. Though, each day without the Archmage tested my frayed nerves.

I had no answers and no way of moving forward until he came. That was assuming he even had a solution… something that felt more doubtful by the hour.

So I stayed locked in my rooms with Batty and my sister, pretending that the world outside wasn’t on fire.

If only it had been as easy to pretend my nightmares away.

Every night dragged me back to the cave, to the clink of chains, the agonizing scrape of the blade, and the metallic rasp of someone who found perfection in other people’s pain.

It was worse tonight, the images more vivid. I could feel his breath on my skin, hear the lilting way he chided me.

Seelie Whore.

His hatred was branded on my skin over and over again, and my blood poured out of me in agonizing streams.

Then, just like every night, I saw myself through Draven’s eyes.

Small, broken. My face stained with crimson tear tracks. Every gaping wound exposing my weakness for what it was. And it was worse, somehow, than feeling my torment firsthand.

The nightmare shifted again, and Kyros was standing over me, pride etched across his features, a smirk gracing his cruel mouth.

Then the memory started over again.

Everly.

Torment. Blood.

Come on, Evy. Wake up.

Another scrape along my skin, and a sob broke its way free from my lips.

It’s just a nightmare.

Sadistic laughter in my ear.

I’m sorry about this.

Something splashed against my face, shocking me into consciousness.

I sat up, sputtering and choking on water.

Wynnie hovered above me with an empty glass, guilt in the tight set of her mouth.

“I couldn’t wake you,” she said, her voice smaller than it should be.

“I—” Freezing drops of water streamed down my face, and I reached up to wipe them off.

My breath still came in pants.

“Evy?” she set the glass down, reaching toward me.

I shook my head. “No. It’s all right. I’m sorry. Go back to sleep now.”

She froze, her hands still hovering like she wanted to help, to offer comfort. “No, I’ll…”

Guilt consumed me. Her normally bronze skin was several shades too pale, and purple half moons hung under her eyes. She had likely just finally drifted off to a fitful sleep of escaping her own nightmares only to be awakened by mine.

“Please, Wynnie. Get some rest,” I said a little more firmly, though I forced a bitter smile. “I’m just going to go dry off.”

Then I slipped out from under the covers, willing her to listen to me. She nodded after a beat, climbing back into bed on shaking limbs.

I padded to the lavatory and took my time gently wiping the water from my face with a soft towel, trying to avoid my own haunted gaze in the mirror. But I couldn’t calm the rapid beating of my heart, or quell the panic rising in my chest.

Not when every shadow looked like the ones he had stepped out of. The ones he had dragged me into before…

Surely he was dead… Right?

But what if he wasn’t?

What if he was the reason I kept feeling that ominous scraping along my spine? Was he trying to find me again, to punish me? To make sure his poison worked as intended this time?

I tried to take a breath, but my lungs refused to expand. I couldn’t get back in that bed and close my eyes knowing he would be on the other side.

Teal eyes flashed through my mind.

There was only one person who could give me answers.

Moonlight caught on my ring, the band practically tugging me toward him, just as it had tried to do with every passing hour since he brought me back here.

And this time I let it.