Page 33 of Bound to the Shadow Queen (Frostbound Court #2)

Everly

The room was on fire. Engulfed in flames that pounded with every beat of my heart.

Wait. No.

Not the room. Just my head.

My head was on fire, and my insides were…

I shot out of bed and raced for the lavatory, making it just in time to fall to my knees and purge the meager contents of my stomach. Which was mostly sour Emberkiss whiskey.

“Noooo,” a voice said weakly. “You know I will sympathy vomit.”

My sister lay on the floor, her face pressed against the marble, her bronze skin several shades paler than it should have been.

“I’m quite certain it would be from more than sympathy, my lady,” Mirelda’s dry tone cut in as she swept into the lavatory. “Here, drink this.”

Wynnie murmured something in gratitude while I rinsed my mouth out, avoiding the sight of my ghoulish skin and wayward waves in the mirror. When I finally made my way back to the bedroom on slow, cautious steps, Mirelda waited with a vial of tonic and an only mildly judgmental expression.

I uncorked it, gagging all over again at the pungent odor that wafted out.

“Just plug your nose, Evy,” Wynnie suggested. “It works.”

Seeing that my sister had a spot of color to her cheeks, I followed her instructions, barely choking down the viscous syrup.

“And eat your crackers,” Mirelda added primly.

My mouth still felt like sandpaper, but there was a cool glass of water next to the plate on my bedside table, so I nodded reluctantly before I climbed back into bed and wrapped myself back in several layers of fur.

The fire roared higher in time with Mirelda’s tutting sound. Then her footsteps receded, along with the padding of wolf paws, and the door clicked shut behind her. She must be letting Batty out for the morning, and Lumen as well.

A small surge of panic overtook me when I remembered the night before. The wards. Draven’s mana emanated from the room next to mine. He was just on the other side of the door, likely still in his bed, but close.

Whatever else could be said, he had made it clear that he had no intention of letting me die.

I took a breath, trying to think past the nausea that was, admittedly, subsiding in the wake of the disgusting tonic. What had he said last night?

I had hazy memories of his grip searing into my skin, his frosted green eyes boring into mine.

Something far worse.

“Wynnie.” My voice was abrupt in the silence, and she reared back on her pillow.

“What is it?”

“Sorry,” I continued at a lower volume. “Did you come across anything weird on the way here?”

She blinked several times, then put her finger thoughtfully to her lips. “You mean like lots of mostly-eaten fae or a secret rune portal that led to the Wilds or a fae with shining silver eyes who rides her own shards-damned holy griffon?”

Well, when she puts it that way… “Point taken, but I actually meant monsters.”

She nestled back into her pillow. “Is this for your compendium?”

I let out what was almost a laugh, or would have been if I wasn’t terrified at the idea of a monster that even gave Draven pause. “No, I had forgotten all about that, actually.”

Though my drawing skills left much to be desired, I had indeed been sketching out a compendium, frustrated with the scattered bits and pieces of information spread out through far too many books.

“What’s going on?” My sister looked more serious now.

I paused, taking in the skin that was still too pale, the eyes that were perpetually tired. I didn’t want to add to her worries.

But we had promised honesty always.

“There’s something trying to get through the wards, and something about that is niggling at me.” Maybe in another life, it wouldn’t have been my problem, but even then, I wasn’t sure I could have sat by and done nothing.

Even if Wynnie wasn’t here, there were Nevara and Soren, not to mention innocent people in this palace, villagers taking refuge here.

And Draven.

Wynnie swallowed, then took a deep breath. “Well, you probably know more about monsters than most people alive.”

“I had a lot of time to study,” I reminded her in a wry tone.

Guilt flickered across her features. “I know.”

I shook my head. “I didn’t mean it that way.”

Though my time had been freed up when she left. I couldn’t deny that the long, lonely hours in the estate had taken their toll, but that sure as shards hadn’t been Wynnie’s fault.

She tilted her head back, staring at the ceiling. “I know you didn’t, but that doesn’t mean I can’t hate the way that I abandoned you.”

“You had no choice.” Literally. There had been an obedience clause in her marriage vows, something that made me just a bit less sorry about the end Yorrick met.

She nodded quietly. Before she could spiral into any more guilt, I shuffled over on the bed to nudge her arm with mine.

“So tell me about the monsters.”

I hadn’t spent much time in my study since my return. Once Wynnie had come, we filled the days with talking. Even in our pockets of silence, I hadn’t wanted to ignore her for my books, especially when it brought back memories of the long hours I had spent missing her from the estate after she left.

Now, though, I needed to research the monsters.

When Mirelda returned with Batty and Lumen in tow, I asked her to call books on Frostbeasts for me. After only a slight wrinkling of her nose at my unladylike choice of reading, she obliged me.

Wynnie assured me she could keep herself plenty busy examining the contents of my closet, so I disappeared into the small space, my wolf at my feet and my skathryn poking curiously through the stacks.

Draven found me there, poring over ancient tomes. I was half hoping I wouldn’t have to see him today, after the murky events of the night before, but I was itching to be reunited with my dagger.

As always, his power rolled into the room before he did, humming along my skin. I used the convenient excuse of my book to pretend I hadn’t noticed him until he sat my dagger on the only open space on the desk.

It landed with a clink. Was he trying not to disturb me? Or trying not to accidentally touch me?

I glanced from the weapon to his face, swallowing when I realized he was freshly out of the bath. His silver-blond locks were several shades darker when they were damp, just as they had been the last time I had seen him just out of the tub.

When I had begged him to take me to my sister. When he had agreed, with little rhyme or reason.

I had been so desperate then, I had never really stopped to consider why. Or maybe I just hadn’t wanted to consider it because I had known that it could never be real.

He turned to go when I didn’t say anything, and I felt myself speaking before I could stop.

“Why did you take me to Wynnie’s that day?” The question tumbled from my lips unbidden, before I could consider how pointless it was.

All of that, taking me to my sister’s, tracing my scars, getting on his frost-damned knees to pull the monster flesh from my hair. Those were for her—the Seelie wife he had thought he had.

The iced-shut windows were for the half-Unseelie wife he actually had.

Everything went still. Draven, the air, even his mana was uncharacteristically subdued, like the room was holding its breath for whatever answer he would give. Or perhaps that was only me.

Finally, he spoke without turning around. “You were my wife. That didn’t mean nothing to me.”

My lips parted, but for a change, no words emerged. Was I imagining the bare implication that it had meant nothing to me?

Then there was his use of past tense. If I had been his wife before, what did that make me now?

He walked away before I could find my voice, leaving me with the echo of his accusation ringing in my ears, along with all that it implied.