Page 27

Blood soaked the earth, shredded bodies littering the snow. Some of the corpses wore the uniform of the Winter guard, but there were others. Tattered remnants of pale blue dresses on forms too small to be soldiers.

Morta Mea.

Another shiver racked my body. The Unseelie pressed in until they were all I could see, enormous black wings towering over my small form. They were coming.

They were coming for me .

Wind howled somewhere far away, and with it a wolf that sounded both forlorn and familiar. The sound was eclipsed by a patient voice. Too calm. Too rational for the pain that accompanied each bland assurance that this would be the last test. The last lash.

Everly.

That voice was neither patient, nor calm. It was unrelenting authority, tinged with the barest edge of…concern? Urgency? Frustration?

I couldn’t place it when it was still so far away, eclipsed by the screams echoing in my mind. My mother’s voice morphed into one that was pitched just a bit higher, a female with more panic than rage.

A desperate shriek sounded, growing more and more pitiful like the wailing of an anxious baby skathryn.

Then blood in the snow. Talons digging into pale, pale skin. A crimson crown buried under a mountain of frost, of grief.

Warmth seeped across my skin, searing into my bones. I nestled into it, trying to thaw the serrated shards of ice that splintered through my skin, lodging all the way into my bones.

For shard’s sake, Morta Mea, wake up.

That voice. I despised it, yet I clung to it like a lifeline sent to haul me from the endless chasm of darkness and despair. I sucked in a desperate breath, wrenching my eyelids open.

The room was dark, only the wan light of the fire flickering across the low ceilings. The storm raged outside, enough to tell me that I should have been far colder than I was, except…

Except that I was cocooned in warmth, pressed against a solid wall of unrelenting heat. Draven.

His muscular arm was wrapped around me, his breath searing against my neck with each measured movement of his broad, bare chest. I tried to match his even breathing, to focus on anything but the inexplicable way he was using his body to warm mine.

Just like he had used his voice to chase away the monsters in my mind.

Why would he do that for me? Because I was interrupting his sleep?

When I had myself under some semblance of control, I eased out of his hold. He snatched his arm back like it was on fire, like he hadn’t realized it was around me at all.

I couldn't make myself face him.

I stared at Batty, who was staring back at me in concern, her dark, wide eyes reflecting the flickering firelight. I gently patted her head with my finger, trying to assure her without words that I was all right.

Even if I was doubting that a bit myself. Was I finally cracking under the strain? I had occasionally been awoken by nightmares in the past, but nothing like what had assaulted me since my arrival at the palace.

And even those paled in comparison to this one.

The heat emanating from the other side of the bed ebbed away now that he was further, filling me once more with cold.

“I…had a nightmare.” Once the words were out, I realized they were more uncomfortable than the silence had been.

“I know.” His voice was rough with disuse.

At first I assumed he was being an ass as usual, but his tone was devoid of its usual condescension. It was darker, and almost…resigned.

I know , he had said. Not, I assumed , or, I gathered as much , or something similarly Draven, designed to make me feel like an idiot for speaking the obvious.

He knew . I forced myself to face him, ignoring the shame that burned through my cheeks. The red-orange light danced across his aristocratic features, bathing them in pockets of illumination and shadows. It was just enough to make out the tense set of his jaw, and the sheen of sweat on his brow.

I squeezed my eyes shut, letting images from my dreams flood my waking mind.

There had been Tharnoks that had exploded into ice, exactly like the Mirrorbane he killed. The delicate crown that must have belonged to the late Winter Queen. The frozen battlefield of legend.

I had never seen those things before.

But Draven had.

I couldn’t believe it had taken me this long to figure out, but then, I had no books and no way to research the rings, the marriage bond, the shards-damned choosing ceremony itself.

“Did you know?” I wasn’t sure why I asked, or why it mattered to me, except that this felt like yet another invasion in a long list of things I had no choice about.

He let out a slow breath.

“Did I know that I don’t normally dream of Lady Noerwyn holding my hand? Yes, I figured that out fairly quickly.”

Ah. There was the assish tone I had been expecting.

It was galling to realize I had been trying to let him forget my sister existed, only to find out he had been reminded of her regularly from my dreams.

I debated asking him if there were more fun gifts that came with our marriage bond, but the memory of my body leaning involuntarily into his effectively stilled my tongue.

I already knew there was at least one more side effect.

The last thing I wanted to do was bring it up while we shared a bed, with the memory of his skin ghosting along mine.

Besides, it wouldn’t matter soon enough. Tomorrow, the mages would take away the last shred of hope he had.

Right along with mine.