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CHAPTER TWELVE

B risk morning winds wash over us as we sneak in through the side gate and into the Unseelie King’s castle without any civilians noticing.

I stifle a shudder as the winds caress my naked back through the hole in my shirt.

I still need to figure out how to get new clothes.

Maybe before we leave, I can somehow manage to convince someone here in the city to trade me another shirt.

The servant who met us at the gate guides us through several corridors. I glance at him in surprise when I realize that he isn’t taking us to the same dining room that we met Orion in last time. Instead, we seem to be moving in the direction of the main entrance.

When we reach a set of open double doors that lead into a massive throne room, I can’t help but tense up. The last time I was escorted into a throne room in this way, I ended up with an iron collar around my neck.

Draven brushes a hand down my arm, seemingly without even thinking about it, because his eyes are locked on the throne room ahead. And it’s such a comforting and natural gesture that I almost lose track of where we are.

My heart squeezes and warmth washes through my body.

This has to be real. These emotions… they have to be genuine. They have to.

But before I can fall deeper into that pit of uncertainty because of the mate bond, the servant comes to an abrupt halt by the doors and raises an arm to tell us to go inside.

The six of us exchange a glance. Then we walk through.

Once again, the Unseelie Court manages to surprise me. Those images in my head of a harsh and ugly court are thoroughly squashed underneath the sheer beauty that is the Unseelie King’s throne room.

Just like the rest of the castle, the walls and floor of the high-ceilinged throne room are made of beautiful white stone.

Tall windows along the room’s long sides fill the space with golden morning light and makes the faelight gems sparkle.

The entire ceiling has been painted to depict a breathtaking night sky with glittering stars and northern lights in green and purple.

Vibrant vines with flowers in shades of violet, dark blue, and silver climb up the stone pillars that line the dark blue carpet which runs from the door and all the way to the throne on the other side of the large room.

The throne itself is a masterpiece carved from some kind of shining black stone.

Intricate swirls and curving shapes make it look like night shadows that have been frozen in time.

I can’t help but gape at the entire room.

Then my gaze slides to the fae man seated on the throne, and I promptly snap my mouth shut and wipe the amazed expression off my features.

Orion Nightbane isn’t sitting on his throne.

He is lounging on it. His legs are spread and he is leaning a little to the side to rest his chin against his fist while his elbow is propped up on the armrest. His other arm is draped nonchalantly along the other armrest. That, along with the half-smirk on his face, makes him look like the very definition of lazy arrogance.

I grind my teeth in annoyance but keep my mouth shut as the six of us come to a halt a short distance in front of him.

“Well?” he drawls.

Next to me, Draven flexes his hand but keeps his tone neutral as he replies, “Danzo Wolfstalker is dead. And they saw me slit his throat.”

“Excellent.”

“As if you didn’t already know that.”

A slow and incredibly sharp smile spreads across Orion’s mouth, but he doesn’t confirm or deny it.

“We’ve upheld our end of the bargain,” Draven declares.

The Unseelie King slides his gaze over all of us for a moment before finally replying, “Yes, you have.” His eyes find mine. “Selena’s life in exchange for Danzo’s.”

“Then that concludes our business.” Draven narrows his eyes. “I suggest you?—”

“Are you truly content just hiding in here behind your wards?” Isera cuts him off, her blazing eyes locked on the Unseelie King.

His black and silver eyes slide to her. I hold my breath. The silence thrums against the white stone walls as Orion slowly drags his gaze up and down Isera’s body before locking eyes full of challenge on her.

“Who’s hiding?” he counters.

“You know damn well that you’re hiding in here.

” Her eyes are as hard and merciless as the ice she wields as she glares back at him.

“So why not take this chance to do something about it? The Icehearts have lost the Commander of the Dread Legion. The Shadow of Death and the entire Black Dragon Clan are on our side.” She flicks her hand towards me and Alistair.

“We are the three strongest magic users in the entire Seelie Court. And we’re all ready to fight. ”

On her other side, Alistair whips his head around and stares at her. But her eyes are still only locked on Orion as she continues speaking.

“You will never have a better opportunity than this. Join us. Together, we can take down the Iceheart Dynasty once and for all.”

The silence that descends over the beautiful throne room is so thick that I can almost feel it pressing against my skin.

My heart beats so loudly in my chest that I’m certain everyone must hear it in this dead quiet room.

If Orion actually agrees, it’s going to change everything.

With the Unseelie Court on our side, we might actually stand a chance.

I try to remember to breathe as Orion Nightbane studies us all in silence for another few seconds.

Then he laughs.

It’s a vicious and mocking sound.

Lightning flashes in Isera’s eyes, and she takes a step forward.

But Alistair grabs her by the arm, stopping her from launching across the floor and strangling the life out of the snickering king.

A snarl rips from her throat, and she yanks her arm out of his grip, but she doesn’t have time to move again because Orion finally replies.

“Why should I?” he demands. Flicking his wrist, he indicates all of us. “You are the most miserable group I have ever seen.” His eyes lock on Draven. “A former commander who trusts no one.” His gaze slides to Galen and Lyra. “Two magicless soldiers who are drowning in guilt.”

Both of them flinch.

But Orion’s eyes just shift to me. “One emotion wielder who is terrified of her own power.” His gaze moves to Alistair.

“One fire wielder who doesn’t even want to be here.

” At last, he locks eyes with Isera again.

And his gaze seems to spear through her like a blade.

“And one ice lady who is so consumed by vengeance that she has shut off all her emotions.”

My heart pounds in my chest. How does he know so much about us? About me ?

Then realization slides down my spine like ice. He can rifle through all our bad memories. He knows more about us than we do.

The Unseelie King flicks his wrist in a dismissive gesture. “You are weak and broken and I will not risk my court by backing the losing team.”

“Then our business here is done,” Draven declares. Without so much as a nod to Orion, he turns and jerks his chin at the rest of us. “Let’s go.”

“I will not—” Isera begins, and starts taking another step towards the throne.

But before she can even lift her foot, Draven grabs her by the front of her silver tunic and yanks her face closer to his as he growls, “I said, out . Now.”

The sheer power and command in his voice pulse through the room like a physical blow. That was not a request from an ordinary dragon shifter. That was an order from the Commander of the Dread Legion. A command issued. A command obeyed.

The utter authority in his voice stuns even Isera so much that she hesitates.

Draven uses his grip on her shirt to shove her in the direction of the doors.

She stumbles several steps before managing to find her balance again.

Fury flares up in her eyes, but when Draven stalks towards her, she just grinds her teeth and then storms towards the doors as well.

For a moment, I just remain rooted there on the white stone floor. Then I hurry to catch up with them. The others do the same.

While walking briskly towards the door, I cast a quick look over my shoulder.

Orion Nightbane is still lounging on his throne. But instead of that cruel and dismissive look in his eyes, his beautiful face is now full of amusement and wicked anticipation. It makes a bolt of alarm shoot up my spine, and I quickly snap my gaze back to the doors ahead.

But as we make our way out through the castle’s main entrance, I can’t get his words out of my head.

A former commander who trusts no one .

That’s what he said about Draven.

But he’s wrong.

The more I think about it, the more I realize something that should have been glaringly obvious but which I haven’t even noticed until now.

Draven trusts me .

During the assassination last night, he trusted me with his life. Trusted me to get us through the house without anyone spotting us.

But it’s more than that.

He has been trusting me for months now. Trusting me with important things. Even when I hated him.

Even though he has had his wings savagely whipped for years, decades, he still trusts me to touch them.

I didn’t even realize it until now. After all the brutality and pain he has suffered, he must be incredibly wary of letting people touch his wings.

But he lets me touch them. Even as far back as that time in the underground forest during the Atonement Trials when I still considered him an enemy.

Even then, he still trusted me not to hurt him.

And he trusted me with his freedom. While we were in the Ice Palace, he gave me clues, trusting me to figure out the answer. That comment about why the furniture in his room was gray and not black. Telling me to question things that don’t make sense.

Something else he said slams back into me and clangs through my mind like a giant bell.

I knew that I had found someone who understood what it’s like to be hated for something that you haven’t chosen.

He couldn’t tell me what was really going on, so he left me little clues like that in our conversations, trusting me to figure out that the Icehearts were controlling him with dragon steel.

And most of all, he trusted me with his heart.

And I stomped all over it.

Pain slices through my chest at the memory of that night.

He told me that I was his mate, and I just screamed back at him that I didn’t want to be his mate. I can still remember the hurt that pulsed across his face when I said that.

I swallow against a sudden thickness in my throat as I watch Draven where he walks down the white stone steps that lead down from the castle’s main entrance.

The Unseelie King said that Draven trusts no one.

But he has trusted me with everything.

His life.

His body.

His freedom.

His heart.

All my life, no one has ever trusted me with anything. But he does.

I grip the fabric of my shirt right over my heart to try to stifle the ache that suddenly pulses through my entire chest. It’s followed by a flash of burning rage. I have never been this angry with the universe in my entire life.

All the suffering I have endured in the Seelie Court is nothing compared to the sheer injustice of knowing that some mystical force in the universe chose who I should love.

There is not enough fire in hell to describe the utter rage I feel when I think about how I wasn’t allowed to choose Draven on my own.

Because now, every time something like this happens, there is always a seed of doubt buried deep in my chest.

A seed of doubt that is always asking things like: does he trust you because he loves you or because the mate bond has conditioned him to trust you? And: do you actually love him back or is everything you feel just the result of the mate bond tampering with your emotions?

A snarl threatens to escape my throat, so I snap my mouth shut. Dropping my hand from my shirt, I shake it out in frustration and then stalk down the steps after Draven and the others.

If I ever meet the being who invented the concept of fated mates, I’m going to rip their fucking heart out and make them eat it.