Page 37

Draven

W e landed hard, the frost evaporating around our boots as the last tendrils of mana unraveled into the air.

Icewalking was meant to be clean. Fast. Controlled.

But this… This had been none of those things.

The mana unraveled slowly this time, dragging its chill through my veins like it didn’t want to let go, and the air around us still crackled faintly with the last echoes of the frost.

Everly’s hand was cold in mine. I swept a glance over her, making sure she hadn’t gotten frostbite from the icewalking taking so long, but she wasn’t shivering any more than usual.

She was always cold. Always pretending she wasn’t. Always pretending, period.

I wasn’t sure whether I hated her or respected her for it, but my mana flared up protectively all the same, especially when I felt the rough wounds on her palms from her clenching her fists.

My stomach clenched with a rare echo of remorse, and I dropped her hand.

She swayed beside me, one hand pressed to her side, her breath coming shallow and uneven, her skin faintly green.

The Lord General was waiting to report, but I was fairly certain if I pulled Everly along now she would vomit all over the courtyard. The skathryn peeked from her collar, eyes wide, tiny claws clinging to the fabric as though she too needed to brace herself.

I stepped back, to give her more room to breathe and to force the frost beneath my skin to still.

“Well,” Everly swallowed. “I never thought I’d miss the freezing sledge, but here we are. We…”

Her crystal blue eyes widened, and she spun around, trying to look in her cloak.

“Batty!” she squeaked, the sound reminiscent of her skathyrn.

I stepped forward, grabbing the trembling rodent and unclasping its hooks from where it had wedged itself between Everly’s cloak and gown. The menace hissed at me, flapping its wings wildly in protest like they weren’t shorter than the length of my thumb.

“You’re all right,” Everly grabbed the creature and made cooing sounds like it wasn’t a venomous pest.

I let out a slow breath, watching her carefully. Her color was returning, and she was no longer clinging to the edge of sickness, or didn’t appear to be as she fawned over the skathryn.

Her relief was palpable, coursing through the bond like it was my own.

Later. I told myself, running a hand over my face. Later I would deal with the strange tether between us, the way her presence pulled at something buried deep beneath my ribs.

But with her mana sealed and strangled by someone else’s will, perhaps she had been closer to the truth than any of us. Perhaps the Shard Mother was punishing us.

Either way, now wasn’t the time for reflection. We had to get inside.

A thrum of boots on stone drew my attention.

The Lord General had come to us, striding over like he was preparing for war.

His warrior’s knot was tightly braided, his silver-trimmed uniform crisp and immaculate, but the jagged scars crossing his face and throat stood out stark against the chill, echoing far too closely the ones carved into Everly’s back.

He stopped just short of us, bowing once. “Your Majesties.”

“Lord General,” Everly greeted, still cradling her skathryn like it might disappear.

I forewent a greeting, giving him a brief nod. “Report.”

Eryx handed me a roll of parchment, the wax seal barely clinging to the torn edge.

His voice was low, clipped. “Just after you left, we received confirmation of movement along the southeastern pass. Two sightings in the last week. Unseelie. Not openly hostile, but they’ve been shadowing the outer villages. Watching. Testing our defenses.”

Every muscle in my body tensed. It was a different kind of monster than I had been expecting.

“How did they manage to evade us with a standing order to kill them on sight?” I bit out the question.

Eryx gave a small shake of his head. “Skaldwings.”

Of shards damned course they were.

Everly froze, her hands stilling from where they were petting the skathryn.

I wasn’t surprised. She was from Eisbarrow, close enough to the border that she had probably seen an attack.

The winged Unseelie were known for their cruelty. They didn’t just kill, they took prisoners. We never got them back.

“They weren’t just passing through, were they?” I asked, though I already knew the answer.

Eryx shook his head. “They’ve launched an outright attack on one of the outlying villages.

We’ve increased the perimeter watch and informed Summer Court, and they’re sending soldiers to help secure the border.

” He shifted on his feet. “But the problem is that their patterns are shifting. And we have no idea what stirred them.”

I let out a dark, bitter laugh.

They had chosen their moment well. Lying in wait while Winter splintered, just waiting for the perfect place to press their blade—right between the unraveling mana and the increasing frostbeast attacks.

I unrolled the parchment with slow fingers, forcing my hands to remain steady as my thoughts threatened to unravel. The words blurred for a breath as I stared through them.

“Shards damn it all,” I muttered, more to myself than to Eryx as I read the detailed report. My voice was flat, but my pulse had already begun to quicken. “They’re attacking now. The monsters would’ve been better news.”

The pulse of my wife’s unease rippled over my skin like a warning.

It wasn’t the first time I had read her so easily, but after her comments about my mana, I wondered how often I had attributed shifts in her emotion to her overly expressive features, or her mana. But she wasn’t expressive right now, and her mana was still locked tightly away.

My parents had been slaughtered by the Unseelie before they could impart much knowledge about a marriage bond they didn’t think I would need for years, but I could surmise this was another side effect.

I pushed away the memories of a bloody crown in the snow, focusing on the report. Unseelie attacking just as the monsters escalated. The frostbeasts hadn’t been closer to the Unseelie border so much as they were random and scattered, so how could the Skaldwings have known?

Were they getting better at hiding? Was there a spy in my court?

Or were they working with a seer?

“Which village?” My wife’s voice was razor sharp as she sliced through my thoughts, her gaze entirely focused on the Lord General.

He looked uncertainly to me, and I dipped my chin for him to answer her.

“Near Briarhollow.”

Her face went still, her lips parted slightly as if she were on the verge of saying something, then thought better of it.

I didn’t trust that silence, or the lack of snarky commentary on the Lord General’s hesitation to answer her.

“Send for the Visionary,” I ordered, turning toward the main corridor. “And prepare the war room.”

Eryx inclined his head and vanished into the hall.

I didn’t say a word as I led her through the twisting palace corridors. She kept pace beside me, quiet but alert. Her skathryn gave a small, pitiful sound as if it had sensed her turmoil, and she brought her hand up to rest on its head instead.

By the time we entered the war room, Nevara was already there. Ahead of Eryx, like she had foreseen the need to come.

Which was sometimes just an irritating quirk of hers, but in this case, didn’t bode well. She didn’t smile, confirming my assumption. She just followed me through the door without a single pointed remark.

The chamber was carved from a single sheet of dark frostglass, embedded with veins of ancient mana that pulsed faintly beneath the surface like a heartbeat.

An arched window stretched along the far wall, revealing the snow-blurred landscape below.

Crystal sconces flickered with pale blue light, casting long shadows across the circular table in the center.

“What can you tell me?” I asked, moving to stand in front of a sprawling map of the realm.

Nevara’s knuckles went white around her staff. She inclined her head toward Everly for a moment, her expression unreadable—concern, perhaps? Curiosity? Then she blinked, her gaze turning inward, distant.

“They’re not just attacking,” she said after a long pause. “They’re hunting.”

I bristled at the word, at the implication that Winter would be their prey.

Eryx frowned. “Hunting what, though? Monsters? Food? Or is this about more than that? Are they hunting for revenge? Finally ready to challenge King Draven for the Frost Grave Battle?”

Nevara pursed her lips. “It’s hard to say.”

I narrowed my eyes at her. I had known her far too long not to hear the nuance of what she had said. Shards, Nevara’s vague sidestepping of questions had taught me all I knew of avoiding an outright lie.

It’s hard to say was not at all the same thing as I don’t know .

She might not have seen my glance but she must have felt the weight of the accusation all the same because she raised her eyebrows in a subtle yet pointed way, her message clear.

What happened the last time you refused to trust me?

It was a familiar point of contention with us.

Trust was a hefty request when the same dark fae that had wiped out the rest of the royal line were stalking my borders. They had started all of this. The war. The battle that had started the slow descent of my kingdom into ruin.

For all that my people and my wife accused me of being a monster, they had no notion of what my powers had kept at bay. Most of the fae who had fought in the war against Winter had died for that cause—gruesome, prolonged deaths without the offer of a mercy killing.

Then more were frozen at my side.

Bitter cold filled the room, shards of ice forming like crystals around the table and along the walls as I forced the memory from my mind.

The Unseelie were a scourge on the realm itself.

If the Shard Mother truly wished for balance, she would have granted me enough power to wipe them out entirely that day instead of stopping my frost at the edge of the battlefield.

I turned my attention back to the table, my hands flat against the polished surface as I drew some of the ice back into my veins.

My reflection shimmered faintly in the crystal-veined glass.

“What of the monsters?” I demanded. “Any new attacks?”

Eryx stepped forward, moving several markers along the map. “Two, near the outer wall. Smaller beasts, handled quickly. Only one sighting during the day, and it didn’t breach the perimeter. Patrols have held since your departure.”

Good. But not enough.

“And the villages?” I asked.

He hesitated, his jaw flexing before he gave me an answer. “More of the same. Four more villages have been attacked. Two of them were total losses.”

My hands curled into fists. I could not fight a war on two fronts. My soldiers were stretched thin. My people were getting slaughtered. Again.

And once again, I was the only one who could keep them safe. I wondered how much of my soul I would sacrifice for the sake of my kingdom this time around.