Page 43 of Heart of Fire (Royal Ice Dragons #3)

DARE

The fear on Hanna’s face wrenched at my heart.

She fought, her body arching; she kicked a man in the chest and he flew back. Good girl . I couldn’t help but approve, even though she needed to stop fighting.

I knew she wanted us to delay.

Did Hanna understand the game I was playing?

I reached out to her, feeling driven mad by the lack of connection between us now. But there was still nothing there—I couldn’t reach her through the bond.

I had learned from the whispers around the room that when the Lord ascended, he had been tortured first. The nobles atoned for their sins, for stealing from the gods.

If she wanted the Dragon Royals to take control of this room, I wanted to be at her side.

If she wanted us to delay…then I needed to be close to be sure she wasn’t hurt.

Another cult member pushed forward, a cruel smile on her lips. She held out a ceremonial dagger, its blade glinting ominously in the dim light.

“Make her bleed,” she said, offering the weapon to me, her gaze challenging. “She will be our goddess, but for now…let her atone. Bleed the last of her magic and her arrogance.”

I took the dagger. If I hadn’t, someone else would’ve crossed the dais to that altar. I made myself smile. “My pleasure.”

The weight of the dagger felt heavy enough to drag me to the bottom of an ocean.

Logically, it was good that I would be the one closest to her. I couldn’t hesitate or comfort her; the eyes of the crowd were on us.

I turned to where Hanna lay bound on the altar, her eyes wide with terror. I wished more than anything that our mental link was still intact and that I could send her a whisper of reassurance.

But there was only silence between us, a void where once there had been a comforting connection.

Did she believe in me? Because what I said about the nobles was true.

But she was my noble. Just as Kaelan and Thorne were mine.

If we made it out of this cursed temple, I was going to make far different choices. I was going to stop letting my anger over the past steal my future.

“The dagger will end things too quickly,” a woman disagreed. “The gods demand suffering.”

“No wonder she ran at the last moment,” someone murmured. “Is the sacrifice always so terrible?”

“Only when it comes to the nobles, making restitution for the magic they have stolen,” someone else answered.

“I can make it slow,” I promised.

Hanna’s eyes were wide with fear.

“We want to hear her scream.”

Her chin rose fiercely, and dread sank into my gut. Give them what they want, Hanna. Don’t be so brave and fierce. Not today.

I wanted to whisper to her that I hadn’t betrayed her. I never would. But we were being watched so closely, and I didn’t dare.

The tip of my blade hovered at the edge of her bracelet.

Hanna tilted her head back slightly, and her crystal blue eyes met mine. They were wide with fear, and my heart lurched having her look at me that way.

“Do whatever you have to do,” she whispered. “To bring me close to the goddess…to have the Lord come…”

I knew she was choosing her words carefully. But her eyes were pleading with me. Not for mercy. She might be in pain, she might want it to end, but she didn’t want us to stop.

Delay a little longer .

Gods, she was so strong.

Still, I wanted to slice through that bracelet so damned badly and call in all our help.

Instead, I ran the tip of the knife over her skin, closest to the masses watching. Her blood ran down her skin, coating the altar.

She gritted her teeth.

“Scream, noble,” I told her, my voice rough—though they would never realize why. “Let the gods hear how sorry you are for stealing their magic.”

Give these assholes what they want so they turn their attention away .

Her chest rose and fell with pained breaths, but she didn’t scream.

I drew another cut across her side, lightly scoring her skin as well as the dress; blood soaked through her gown. I fought to keep my face impassive as the blood welled up.

But when I cut her on the other side, I followed the blade with my other hand, healing her as I went. The golden glow beneath my fingers would’ve given me away if they had seen it.

The marble altar was soon slick with crimson, the metallic scent of blood hanging thick in the air. Hanna’s once-fine dress was in tatters, soaked through her own blood.

My dragon screamed inside me. It took every ounce of willpower not to gather her in my arms, to soar away from this nightmare as my wings grew.

Hanna’s body tensed, arched, as I had seen it arch during orgasm. But now she writhed in pain.

Hanna’s crystal blue eyes met mine, shining with tears. Her chest heaved, panting with pain, and I gripped the hilt of the knife so hard it would bruise my fingers. All I wanted to do was gather her up and protect her.

The crowd pulsed, chanting again, their attention fixed on her. It wouldn’t dissipate until she gave them what they wanted most.

Her fear, her dignity, the distance she kept from the commoners.

“Scream, little noble,” I told her.

Then I drove the knife into her thigh.

Her back arched in agony, and she screamed.

My fingers pressed her leg, frantically healing her, knowing that I was expending too much of my own magic.

She didn’t stop screaming even as the wound healed. I took a step, and my foot slid, and I knew I was slipping in her blood.

She didn’t look at me as she finally came to a shuddering gasp, collapsing back against the altar. Her gaze was fixed out on the stars, beyond the temple ceiling. She could’ve been soaring in that sky if she had chosen, but she would suffer to protect her family.

Gods. Mingled with all my agony right now was so much pride. She was stronger than anyone I knew. Her love was the fiercest, most all consuming thing, and I sure as fuck wasn’t worthy.

After tonight, even though I was trying to help her reach her goals…maybe she would realize that. Wouldn’t Kaelan or Thorne have found another way? They would never be capable of hurting her.

As the cultists’ bloodlust began to wane, their attention drifted. They murmured among themselves, drunk on the spectacle of suffering.

Slowly, carefully, I began to work at the ropes binding Hanna to the altar. The rough fibers resisted the blade.

Hanna lay still, her chest rising and falling in shallow, rapid breaths. Her eyes were unfocused, and I wasn’t sure if she even realized what I was doing. The blood loss, though mostly illusory thanks to my healing, had clearly taken its toll. Her fear was all too real, and it pained me to see her so vulnerable, so unlike her usual fierce self.

Just as I felt the last rope beginning to give way, a voice cut through the low hum of the crowd.

“Stop,” one of them called, authority ringing in their tone. “The Lord is coming. He will want to see the Shadow Weaver rise.”

My hand froze on the rope, my heart leaping into my throat. I forced myself to step back from the altar, my fingers still tingling with healing magic. The crowd began to stir, anticipation building once more. I cast a worried glance at Hanna, silently willing her to hold on just a little longer.

We were almost to the endgame.

The temple doors creaked open,

My blood ran cold as Lord Baelur stepped into the flickering torchlight.

The sight of him sent a jolt of hatred through my body.

“The Lord,” someone murmured, bringing me back into the moment.

I gripped the dagger tighter, my knuckles turning white.

A soft touch on my arm nearly made me jump. Hanna’s fingers brushed against me, seeking comfort or offering it, I wasn’t sure.

The contact sent a jolt through me, different from the anger I’d felt moments before. Shame washed over me as I looked down at her bloodied form.

Her eyes met mine. Tear tracks marked her cheeks, and her eyes were both shining wetly and resolute. With great effort, she winked at me. It was the clumsiest wink, like a child’s attempt that is more of a wince.

But it was a sign of her trust in me, and her strength, that staggered me so much I had to grip the bloody altar with one hand to steady myself.

She was incredible.

But the moment couldn’t last.

Baelur’s gaze swept the room. I had to move. I slid the blade between Hanna’s skin and the bracelet and jerked the knife toward me. She let out a gasp as I drew blood in my haste, but the strings flew apart.

Help would come.

Reluctantly, I pulled away from Hanna’s touch, stepping back into the shadows of the crowd. My heart ached to stay by her side, to protect her from what was to come. But I knew our plan depended on me remaining unrecognized.

As I melted into the throng of cultists, I found myself praying for the first time in a long time, to whatever gods might be listening, if any of them were still worthy of our prayers. Keep her safe , I pleaded. Let this all be worth it in the end .