A Queen of Ice (A Trial of Sorcerers #5)

Chapter 39

39

A smile arced across his face, causing his eyes to crinkle ever so slightly in their corners. Dark circles hung beneath his sharp green eyes; they matched the bruising that covered his skin.

“Your…Majesty.” Cullen struggled, either from not knowing the proper honorific for Taavin, or from shock.

“I didn’t know you were here,” Eira blurted, sheathing her dagger and kneeling to inspect the runic shackles that were clamped around Taavin’s wrists. They were the same as what had been in Qwint, and the mines. “Another gift from Carsovia, I see,” she muttered.

“He has many of those,” Taavin agreed. “We knew he’d attempted courting the Empress’s favor, but we doubted he was successful, given her nature.”

“Her nature seems to be cruelty. I’d imagine they’d get along exceptionally.” The chain the shackles were attached to was bolted to the floor, giving him an extraordinarily short leash. Eira continued to willfully ignore the squalor he’d been forced to exist within for her own benefit and his pride. “Do you know where the key is? On Ulvarth, I presume?”

“It’d be my guess.”

Eira sighed heavily. “Of course.” She was regretting sending Alyss off. But it wasn’t as though she could’ve known she’d need the woman’s skills. “Cullen, there was a torch in the main room. Get it, light it from the brazier, and bring it back.”

He sprang into action without question. Eira’s eyes drifted up to Taavin’s.

“I can get this off,” she continued, “but it will be painful. I cannot promise you won’t have scarring, at the least.”

“We all have our scars,” he said easily. Did he fully comprehend what she was going to have to do to get the shackles off? Part of her hoped he didn’t. It might be easier that way. But she suspected he did—Taavin was clever and knew what was coming next.

His wrists were only one link apart, but Eira brought them closer together anyway, holding metal and flesh with a single hand.

“I’m going to do my best to make this as painless as possible,” she said.

“I’d rather it be as fast as possible.” His brow was already set with determination.

Eira nodded and allowed her magic to pour over the shackles, drawing from the deep well the rune on her chest provided. It flowed through his veins and up to his elbows. Eira imagined it like waves lapping against the shore. His hands and wrists were fully submerged, slowly numbing. The sensation would be more mild up to his elbows before completely wearing off on the rest of his arms.

The transition was so fast and seamless that he didn’t even wince as sensation left him. But tiny tremors did have his biceps twitching. Eira kept her grip fast. Frost was beginning to coat her flesh and his, collecting into crystals of ice.

Cold, cold, colder still . As cold as the bleak dawns in the high mountains where the air was so biting that it was impossible to feel your face the moment you emerged. Colder than snow or ice.

As cold as the hatred Eira felt for Carsovia and Ulvarth.

Cullen returning barely registered. He stood silently, torch in hand. She took him not immediately reporting any information to be a good sign that they still had time.

“Hold the torch to the lowest rung of the chain,” Eira instructed, trying not to tear her focus away too much. “Keep the fire there.”

He did as he was told.

When the chain below was red hot, she peeled her fingers away. The thin layer of ice that had coated them cracked and fell to the floor. But she didn’t release her magical hold; Taavin’s cuffs continued to emit a frosty haze.

“We’re going to do this on three.” Even as Eira spoke, Taavin was shifting onto his knees, holding out his hand. He knew what was coming. “You’ll press one side of the cuffs to the red-hot iron. Cullen, put the torch on the other side.”

“But his skin…”

“Do it.” Taavin was the one to speak. His mouth set in a hard line.

“On three, then.” Eira glanced at them both. They returned a nod. “One…” She said a silent prayer that this worked. It was the same principle they had used the night they’d escaped Ofok to break the chain that had been holding the ship…but this time she didn’t have Noelle to summon white-hot flames at a single point. “Two…”

They all sucked in a breath at the same time.

“Three,” Eira exhaled.

Taavin moved swiftly, pressing the cuffs to the red-hot iron. Cullen didn’t hesitate, holding the torch to the other side, the flames licking around the cuffs. Eira withdrew her magic from the metal, but kept it on Taavin’s skin, trying to keep it protected as much as she was able from the fire.

It only took a second before cracking and popping filled the air.

Eira looked to Taavin. “Pull!”

He yanked. She fortified his wrists with a ring of ice underneath the shackles, hoping they didn’t break. Cullen moved out of the way as Taavin reared back. The metal snapped into several pieces.

“Cullen, keep the torch at the ready.” Eira moved to Taavin, placing her hands on the backs of his, running her fingers up his forearms. “I’m going to try and warm you back up slowly. That way your skin doesn’t follow the metal’s lead.”

If she withdrew the cold at once, it’d be agony for him. Doing it slowly could potentially preserve the flesh. Hopefully . Eira couldn’t imagine Vi’s ire if she rendered her betrothed’s hands utterly useless.

“You’ve improved,” Taavin appraised thoughtfully. His voice was level, as if he weren’t in what was certainly immense pain as sensation stabbed down his forearms and wrists.

“It’s been a while since you last saw me. I’ve been busy.” Eira kept her focus. His skin was an ashen blue color. But the blood flow was returning. If she could freeze a person but keep them alive, then she could manage this. It was a control and deftness not unlike managing an icy ship.

“So it’d seem… You met her, trained with her, didn’t you?”

Eira’s eyes drew up to his at the mention of “her.” There wasn’t a need to ask who “she” was. Adela . “I did.”

“And? Is she everything you’d imagined?”

“More.” Eira didn’t bother lying. She’d thrown in her present, and her future, with the Pirate Queen. The world would know it soon enough. It might as well hear it in her words.

He chuckled, as if he already understood. “You’re going to be a force to be reckoned with, aren’t you?”

“I already am.” Eira held his stare for another breath and then withdrew her touch. She looked to Cullen. “Bring the torch a bit closer.”

Taavin could now move his fingers, and he curled and uncurled his hands into fists. The flesh was returning to an overall healthy color…minus angry, red rings around his wrists. Eira suspected that the skin there might be more damaged than she could heal at this point. But hopefully not beyond repair whenever he got into the care of a capable healer.

If only Alyss were here … The thought drew Eira to her feet and over to the window. She couldn’t see the wharf from this direction. But she could see the chaos unfolding in the city below. The ribbons of smoke and echoes of shouting as clashes began to break out.

“Your bride is bringing the Solaris armada and aid from Qwint. Adela is clearing a path to the wharf, helping take out other vessels.”

“You managed to solicit Adela’s help?” He sounded genuinely impressed.

“Temporarily.” Eira wanted to make it clear that the nature of Adela, and her relationship with Meru, hadn’t fundamentally changed. “The attack should begin soon in full force, if it hasn’t happened already.”

“Judging from the rumbling and explosions, I suspect it’s happened.” Taavin stood as well. He continued to rub his wrists, fingers trembling. Cullen stepped off into the main room to return the torch to its holder.

“Does Ulvarth have his magic?” Eira asked pointedly. She’d helped him and caught him up on what was happening. There was no more time to waste.

“I’ve heard rumors that he doesn’t. But of course, no one wants to give them much credence or say so too loudly.”

A wicked smile split her lips. It was so satisfying to know that she had regained her powers—and so much more—while he continued to languish. Without the armor to protect him, he’d be completely at her mercy.

A frown crossed Taavin’s lips. “He does have a strange set of armor, however. One I’ve never seen him without. It’s runic in nature but how it works is unknown to me.”

“I’m aware and I have a way to thwart it.” Eira stood and offered a hand to him.

He arched his brows and clasped his palm with hers. “You have been busy.”

Eira shifted, focusing on Cullen. “We need to find Yonlin and get out of here as fast as possible.” She still remembered that the Pillars had said Ulvarth would be leading the charge down to the wharf. She had to get there before he slipped through her fingers. What Taavin did from here on was his choice. Though she suspected he’d follow.

“Lead on,” Cullen said.

“I’ll show you a faster way out than the one you know.” Taavin moved for the door. Despite the horrors he must have endured at the hands of the Pillars, he moved easily. Eira could only imagine the aches and pains of every bruise and wound across his body. The Voice of Yargen was stronger than she’d given him credit for.

Taavin led them out from behind an upper bookcase in the Archives. It placed them on the top rung, by the still-blazing Flame of Yargen. They all paused at the railing, looking down at the chaos below. The doors had been opened once more for Pillars to run in and out.

There was no sign of Olivin.

“Taavin, do you know where the Pillars would keep prisoners?” Eira asked.

“Beneath the halls of the Swords of Light,” he answered.

Eira looked to Cullen, who already had a frown forming. He knew her far too well.

“Go and get Yonlin,” she asked him. Eira readied herself for an objection, but the man surprised her when his only objection came in the form of an understandable concern.

“Do you think he’s still alive?”

“Let’s hope so. He’s the best with the pistol.” She knew Cullen wasn’t only asking about Yonlin. “I won’t step foot off Meru until I know what happened to my crew. All of them.” Given everything she knew about Wynry, Eira bet that she’d take Olivin alive. She captured Yonlin when she could’ve killed him. A foolish hope, perhaps. But all they had was hope and wild plans.

“Stay safe,” Cullen said by way of agreement.

“I will.” She wasn’t as confident as she sounded. But part of being a captain was not letting those she led see her fear. “Free them and then get to the front lines. I need Yonlin and that pistol.”

He took her hand and pulled. His other palm rose to her cheek, cupping it. Cullen kissed her again, as deeply as he had in the passage.

“I will get to you soon,” he vowed.

“I’d expect nothing less.” She locked eyes with him. “When you and Yonlin are in position, give me our sign.” Cullen nodded and Eira shifted her attention to Taavin. “I know I can’t ask a detour of you.”

“Not when my future wife is down in the wharf fighting.”

“We’ll go together. But can you tell Cullen what he needs to know—where they might hold prisoners here?”

After Taavin gave him clear instructions, Cullen slipped back behind the bookcase, electing to take the slower but more secret passages down.

A dull ache bloomed in her chest with worry for him. Eira shook her head, trying to cast it off. He didn’t need her worry. He needed her to stay mentally sharp and be ready for anything.

Eira looked to Taavin, surprised he had continued to linger. She’d been expecting him to run off. But his presence suggested a continued unlikely, and probably temporary, alliance.

“Let’s go end this.”

“Once and for all,” he added.

They shared a hard stare, one that was full of determination. Then, Taavin moved, and Eira followed his lead.