Page 28 of Divine Fate (Cursed Legacies #4)

27

EVERETT

I never wanted to learn fencing.

When I was six years old, I figured out I could make snowballs in my bare hands whenever I felt like it. Whenever I got bored during my first year of private tutoring, I’d throw a snowball at the tutor.

I thought it would be fine. After all, the tutor was nicer than most other adults in the mansion I was raised in, probably because she was a human who came from nothing who believed kids should be allowed to be kids.

She thought my snowball pranks were funny the first few times. But eventually, she mentioned my newfound playfulness to my parents’ quintet.

They punished me by making me watch as they severely reprimanded her, fired her without pay, and kicked her out the door while she was still sobbing. Then they hired a fire elemental tutor who melted anything I dared create during class.

Corbin, one of my father’s quintet members, called me an undisciplined, rambunctious rascal and said the best way for me to get out my “godsforsaken childish energy” was if I had an outlet for it—fencing, they decided.

The first few practices were brutal. The equipment was heavy. The private instructor shouted at me the entire time. I left sore, bruised, and frustrated. I wasn’t good at it, so I started to hate it.

When Alaric learned I was shit at fencing at the grand old age of six, he sat me down and calmly explained that he would find a competent heir somewhere else if I kept turning out to be an embarrassment to the Frost name. Back then, I still cared about making my family proud. It was all I was taught to care about, so I returned to my fencing class the next day and kept my mouth shut when I left with welts and bruises.

A couple of years later, they added swordfighting to my fencing lessons.

Every day, I worked to become the best. Even long after I realized how much I hated my last name and everything that came with it, I practiced out of spite. Twenty-one years later, whether I’m holding a sword or an épée, it becomes an extension of me.

But I never enjoyed it.

Until now.

With a flick of my wrist, the tip of my sword slashes through Alaric’s face, leaving a cut that’s almost a perfect mirror to the scar marring my face.

He swears, choking as he covers his face. He’s lying on the floor, scrambling back toward the floor-to-ceiling glass wall as this penthouse filled with ice continues to frost over. After Maven’s revelatory words and the divine fury she began raining down on the elite legacies in front of Arati’s temple, my parents freaked out.

They were ready to run and leave me frozen to the couch, but ghosts—fucking visible ghosts —appeared out of nowhere and furiously swarmed my mother. She’s now dead on the ground several yards away, foam frozen around her mouth as she stares sightlessly at the ceiling.

Whatever gave them the ability to end my mother, the ghosts vanished—except for the one that freed me. I nearly had a damn heart attack when one of them passed into me next, but all it did was shatter the ice and rip through the straitjacket, freeing me.

I’d grabbed a sword off the wall to stop Alaric from making a run for the elevator, and it quickly became Frost against Frost.

He’s been putting up one hell of a fight, for someone who just lost his quintet bond. Even though I still can’t summon ice, I’ve barely been able to melt each of his attacks. Now I stand over him, glowering down as he clutches his bleeding face and wheezes, sweat breaking out on his forehead as he shakes and swears.

I’ll never forget what it felt like to lose my bond to Maven. It's the moment all my nightmares are made of. As a keeper with four freshly broken bonds, he must be in agony.

Good.

Spitting out blood, my father sneers up at me. For once in my life, he doesn’t look perfectly polished. “Enough. You wouldn’t kill me, so put down the sword.”

I scoff, letting the tip of my sword bend the flesh at his neck. “I’ll show you how wrong you are as soon as you tell me where the stolen etherium for your safe haven’s shield is.”

The second they live streamed my keeper’s face to the rest of the surviving world to prove she was back, I realized shit is about to hit the fan if we survive this. People were already way too fucking comfortable talking about my dead keeper and feeding off her posthumous fame.

Now, news of her return and her true identity will spread like wildfire. Countless people will be trying to get to my snowdrop—to see her for themselves, to attack her, to marvel at her…whatever the fuck it will be, they’ll want to get close to her.

Which means it’s only a matter of time before the news of her reaches the Entity.

I want another shield to keep her extra safe from it all, once we get back.

Alaric grips at the center of his chest as the pain from losing his quintet continues to sink in. His cold, pale gaze is almost wild with desperation. “You want it, you have to spare my life.”

The smile I give him is humorless. “So you can live for what? Your safe haven? Your quintet? Your precious Frost name? That’s all gone now. Come to think of it, I can just look for the etherium myself, so if you have nothing else to say?—”

I move my sword, fully ready to slit his throat, wipe my hands clean of the Frosts entirely, and go looking for Maven. But Alaric shouts in alarm, holding up his hands. I don’t miss that he tries to summon ice again in one last attempt to harm me, but he’s too weakened from losing his matches and tapped out from our fight.

I smirk when he’s left panting, scrambling back until his back hits the frosted glass. I follow, replacing my sword at his neck as he splutters, making one last desperate attempt to survive me.

“Y—your sister!” he sputters.

That makes me halt, unease settling in my gut.

After the chaos of the Upheaval, I had been so lost to soul-crushing grief and depression that I didn’t go looking for Heidi until four months ago. Even after sending Douglas and his hellhound to track her, I was never able to find her—or Ian, for that matter. The vampire I’ve known since childhood was fully aware that my sister has always been my top priority for him to keep an eye on, but he was no longer in Hawaii, where he went into hiding after faking his death.

Aside from searching for Crypt, I’ve spent months looking for my sister and worrying about what I would find.

And my father must know it, because he has that gotcha look on his bleeding face.

I narrow my eyes. “What about her?”

The doors of the elevator ding softly, but I don’t take my eyes off Alaric as he lifts his chin. “I’ll tell you where she is if I walk free.”

I weigh my options as snowflakes pepper the air around us. The odds that Alaric is just throwing Heidi out as a bluff are extremely high. He knows how protective I am of her. And whether I like it or not, the odds that Heidi has actually survived this long with everything going on are…

Low. Nauseatingly low.

Heidi isn’t a fighter like most legacies are born to be. For one thing, she’s a type four empath, which is the most extreme and rare level of empathic abilities. I was relieved when my sweet, sunshiney sister finally admitted to me she would rather never attend Everbound and instead pretend to be a human.

During the Upheaval, she would have struggled to defend herself on account of the skittish, non-predator animal living inside her.

But even though it's unlikely, if there’s a chance she survived and could be out there…

I glare at Alaric, moving the point of my sword to hover beside his ear. “Forget walking free. You’ll tell me where she is or?—”

“Or what?” my father spits, still shaking and gripping his chest where his heart hurts. “As you pointed out, your sick, twisted keeper already took my quintet away. I have no safe haven left. If you kill me, you’ll never know where she is. There is nothing you can threaten me with, you hideous fucking disgrace.”

Someone growls nearby. That confuses me enough to barely glance over and realize that Baelfire, Crypt, Silas, and Maven have ventured into this frozen penthouse. Baelfire is the one growling, his teeth bared at Alaric. Silas is staring at the bare wall like it’s the biggest danger in the room, and Crypt is holding…fingers?

Oh, right. That freak made a promise to Maven. Gross.

Meanwhile, Maven’s dark eyes are on my father, angry and unforgiving, but it’s like an anvil lifts off my chest. Fucking gods above, I just can’t breathe whenever I’m not around her. Remembering her tied to that stake, ridiculed and filmed and laughed at as gasoline was poured over her head?—

Searing anger makes me turn back to Alaric and swipe my sword.

His ear comes off. He screams.

I leave his other one intact so that he’ll hear my furious demand. “Where is she?”

“I–I won’t tell you,” he chokes out. “Frosts do not?—”

I slash across my father’s other cheek, and he howls, clutching his ruined face. Tired of this slow process, I toss aside the sword and haul my father up by his blood-soaked lapels, slamming him against the frost-patterned glass wall overlooking the gray cityscape outside.

“Last chance,” I warn him, years of anger at the way they mistreated my sister welling inside me. Despite the debilitant they gave me, frost begins to climb steadily up my forearms as my curse reacts to my anger.

Alaric coughs blood in my face on purpose, trying to distract me. Past me would have fallen for it, but if he thinks blood is going to put me off now, it means he’s not getting the fucking message. Releasing one of his lapels, I slam my elbow into Alaric’s face, satisfied with the crack of his nose as he shouts in pain again.

“You’re right. I can’t threaten your quintet or your safe haven, so it’s a good thing you still have what you really care about—your own damn hide,” I point out. “You think I’d let you walk away after you fucking broadcasted humiliating my keeper? No. You have two choices. Tell me where my sister is, and I’ll make it quick. Keep annoying the hell out of me, and I’ll drag this on, kill you anyway, and rip this entire place apart until I find clues—and I know there will be something, because Frosts always keep impeccable records ,” I mock his voice.

He glares at me, but it’s unimpressive thanks to the blood, gashes, and pain all over his face. “You’re really going to kill me? Your own father? You son of a bitch.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not my fault Mom was a bitch. Now choose.”

Alaric seethes for a long moment before looking defeated. Maybe it’s from losing his quintet, or maybe it’s because I bested him, but his shoulders slouch as he stares at me.

“She showed up over a month ago, looking for safety. It’s the way of legacies and Frosts to cull the weak, and we couldn’t have her weakening our safe haven.”

“What the hell does that—” I begin.

“We turned her away—her and that little human friend of hers who brought her here. They were left to the fiends outside my safe haven to fend for themselves.”

Horror and fury hit me so hard and fast that I freeze up as his words sink in.

He turned her away.

My parents fucking turned their own daughter away.

If Heidi had been desperate enough to come to my parents looking for safety, they would have treated her as they always have—like someone with no significant value. She’s not a powerful legacy, and my mother, being the appearance-obsessed woman she’s always been, wouldn’t have wanted people here to find out Heidi was their daughter.

If they refused to take in Heidi left her to fend for herself?—

There’s no way she survived. She’s dead.

My sister is dead.

My lungs feel like they’re collapsing. Oh, my fucking gods. I failed her. I was too caught up in my grief after losing Maven to think clearly. I failed to protect her from our family. She probably died terrified and alone in some horrific circumstances, and?—

Too late, I see the gleam of freshly summoned ice in my father’s hand. It’s sharp as a dagger, and he’s already thrusting it up toward my chest when something blurs between us, roughly knocking me aside.

Glass shatters. Alaric shouts as he’s tackled through the window by none other than Baelfire.

Who is now falling to his own death.

Maven shouts in frantic alarm, and that sound makes my chest clench painfully. I’m still in shock when Crypt swears and races forward to leap out the window next, dropping into Limbo immediately.

I scramble to the edge of the penthouse, my heart pounding as I watch Baelfire’s careening form getting smaller the further he falls. Godsdamn it, he can’t shift to save himself. Even a shifter can’t survive a fall from this distance?—

But like a blip, Crypt appears, grabs Baelfire, and then they both disappear before hitting the ground.

I exhale, relief flooding me so quickly that I get lightheaded.

When I hear Maven breathe out in equal relief beside me, I realize how closely and fearlessly she’s standing next to the ledge. I immediately grip her around the waist to pull her away from danger. Silas is still zoned out in his insanity, etching runes into one of the shards of ice nearby and whispering to the voices in his head.

Maven protests my fussiness, insisting she’s fine, but I’m too busy taking stock of every inch of her. She’s covered in gasoline, dirt, blood, and soot. Her wrists are red from how tightly they tied her to the stake, but despite the rips and tears in her straitjacket and clothes, she’s okay.

“Everett,” she murmurs, making me realize she’s been repeating my name as I’ve been analyzing any tiny nicks or cuts on her. She cups my face, making me look at her. My chest squeezes again, seeing the gentleness in her gaze. That boundless concern. “Are you okay?”

“You just had your identity revealed on live television. You were laughed at and wrongly convicted, and then you were almost burned at the stake for the entire remaining world to see,” I point out angrily. “Of course, I’m not fucking okay. I need to get you back to Everbound. Back to safety. If Douglas is still alive, we’ll have him transport us back immediately, and I’ll send a team here to raid the place for anything useful, including the etherium shielding?—”

“I meant your parents,” she interrupts gently, glancing at my mother’s motionless body. “I know your relationship with your family wasn’t ideal, but…”

Oh. She thinks their deaths are upsetting me.

At one time, years ago, I would have been heartbroken. Back then, I thought family meant family, no matter how cruel, and people owed each other just for sharing blood. In a warped, manipulated way, I loved my parents and their quintet and did anything I could to make them happy. To be a perfect heir.

Now? I haven’t had them twisting my arm in so long that I can see why Silas and Baelfire and even Crypt constantly criticized my family while we were growing up.

Whenever my parents took me to the Decimuses to “make allies” with other strong legacy children, I pretended not to notice how different Baelfire’s family was from mine. Still, he never missed the chance to point out how awfully my family treated me in comparison. A long time ago, before it ever entered my mind to go off on my own, Silas was the one who first suggested I get myself emancipated early.

They knew. It took years, but I get it now.

I shared blood with the Frosts, and I looked like my father, but I’m not them. And now that my sister is gone, I have only one person to mourn and no family to speak of.

I'm…whatever my quintet is.

A mess, basically.

But one I'm proud of.

I kiss Maven’s forehead, using one of my straitjacket sleeves to wipe gasoline and soot from her pretty face. “One less thing to threaten our quintet. I’m fine, Snowdrop.”

She studies me for a moment before her lips curl up slightly. “I was right. Angry Everett is definitely a sight to behold.”

Crypt finally steps out of Limbo into the frozen penthouse, letting Baelfire stumble into one of the nearby walls. The Nightmare Prince immediately stoops to pick up those godsdamned fingers that he apparently dropped before turning and offering them to Maven, entirely earnest as he gazes at her hopefully.

“Forgive me now, love?”

I gag at the sight of the bloody fingers this disturbed freak is pretending are flowers. Meanwhile, Maven’s lips twitch like she’s charmed and trying not to smile.

“We’ll talk about that later,” she tells him, not that I know what she’s talking about. “More importantly, you took Baelfire into Limbo again. Is he?—”

“I’m fine,” Baelfire reassures us. “I closed my eyes, so it probably didn't fuck up my head more than it already is.”

I turn my face toward him in surprise. When I do, the shifter gets an eyeful of my face for the first time since he went feral. His golden eyes get round with surprise.

“Holy shit, your face is so fucking?—”

I hold up a hand, not in the mood to deal with his big, fat mouth. “You have thirty seconds to get all comments about my face out of your system. If you say another word after that, I’ll freeze your tongue, snap it off, and shove it up your ass.”

Crypt grins, pointing at me with one of the dismembered fingers. “Good gods! Is this a version of Frost I could actually get on with?”

Baelfire raises his brows, glancing at the others. “Someone’s cranky.”

“We’re all cranky,” Silas snaps nearby, startling everyone. He’s sitting with his back against a wall now, rubbing his temples before swatting at nothing once again. “I’m with Everett. I’d rather not listen to you crack amateur jokes about his complexion for however long we manage to live.”

“Yeah, yeah. Chill out about your face, Frosty,” Baelfire jokes, slapping my shoulder good-naturedly. “It’s better this way, anyway. Makes you look less like the assfaced douchebag I just took care of for you.”

I pause, a new realization setting in. “Wait. Did you do that to protect me, or was it your dragon?”

“You think my dragon gives a single flying fuck about you? Nah, that moron would’ve pushed you out the window and then jumped himself,” he snorts. “Brains aren’t his strong suit.”

“Remind me what other moron just jumped out a window sans plan,” Crypt drawls pointedly.

“Oh, come on. I knew you’d jump out a window for me anytime, buddy ,” the shifter teases.

Baelfire just saved my life. On purpose.

That’s weird, but I guess no weirder than Crypt rescuing the oversized lizard.

When I notice that Maven is quietly grinning at us, I sigh.

“I know what you’re thinking, but it’s not because?—”

“It is absolutely because you’re all a bunch of fucking softies,” she inserts. “Incredibly sexy softies, but softies nonetheless.”

Crypt huffs at that idea, as displeased as ever at the thought of getting along with us, but then he looks at me seriously. He looks almost…sad. “My condolences, Frost. Heidi deserved better.”

Bael frowns. “Who’s Heidi?”

“Frost’s sister,” Crypt supplies easily.

“ What?” Silas and Baelfire ask in synchrony, both askance.

“Hold the fucking phone. You mean, there’s another Frost running around out there?” Baelfire adds, looking between all of us with wide gold eyes, like that idea is horrible.

“Not anymore,” I say, my voice suddenly too thick for the words to sound right. “Heidi isn’t— wasn’t a normal legacy. If my parents sent her away, she’s?—”

I cut off, turning to stare at Crypt as the entire conversation with my father replays in my head. I know for a fact that neither of us said her name out loud. Frost spreads further up my arms as I take a step toward him.

“Crypt. How the hell did you know my sister’s name?” I demand.

He absentmindedly rubs the place where they previously had a syringe in his neck. His markings light up repeatedly, his gaze drifting to the broken window.

“Suppose that ginger mercenary is still alive?”

He’s clearly trying to brush off this topic. Not about to let him, I test my powers again for the first time, raising a hand. A blunt shard of ice appears, jutting out from the floor and sending Crypt crashing into the wall. Before I can pin him there and demand how he knew about my sister, something big and way too fucking warm slams into my side.

Suddenly, I’m the one pinned to the wall by a very annoyed Baelfire.

“Don’t hurt Crypt right now,” he snaps. “He can’t take it.”

What the hell? “When did you start caring so much about that psychopath?”

Silas pipes up from where he sits on the floor, watching as he rocks himself. “What Baelfire means to say is that even more than the rest of us, Crypt is fragile at the moment.”

The Nightmare Prince is more insulted than I’ve ever seen as he straightens from the wall to glower at the three of us. “ Fragile? Need I remind you, I’m half actual monster, so you can piss right off, you fucking?—”

His markings light up again. Pain crosses his face as his legs give out, but Maven reacts faster than any of us. She’s immediately cradling his upper half on her lap on the ground, emotion raw on her face as she watches Crypt squeeze his eyes shut. He spasms and grits his teeth like his entire body hurts, sweat beading on his face.

The grief, anger, and tension drop from my shoulders as I realize the incubus is finally starting to get what he worked so hard to achieve while our keeper was gone.

And Maven is trying not to cry, because she knows it, too.

Seeing my strong, resilient keeper on the verge of tears is a sign of how much she's actually struggling with our curses. It rips my fucking heart out.

“Damn you, Crypt,” I sigh, striding toward the elevator.

“Where are you going, Scarface?” Baelfire demands.

Throwing my arm back, I don’t have to look to know I just froze his mouth shut successfully. “To hopefully find Douglas still breathing so we can transport out of this shithole.”