Empire of Flame and Thorns (Flame and Thorns #1)

Chapter 44

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

L ight fills the entire throne room. It glitters against the ice walls like starlight and casts sparkling reflections on the people in the room. To my utter shock, I realize that the light is coming from faelights. They might despise our people, but apparently, they see no problem with using our inventions for their own benefit.

Craning my neck, I gaze up at the dome above. Faelights have been set into the entire ceiling, making them shine like permanent stars. The irony isn’t lost on me that their palace is filled with our faelights while our palace is filled with their torches.

“Stop five paces from the dais,” our guide instructs in a soft voice as he leads us through the throne room. “The man bows and the ladies curtsy.”

A jolt shoots through me. Curtsy? I don’t know how to curtsy. I’ve only ever knelt or bowed in front of the dragon shifters before.

I flick a glance at my companions. Isera has her customary blank expression on her face, so it’s impossible to tell if she’s nervous. But it wouldn’t surprise me if she actually knows how to curtsy properly. Alistair, on the other hand, looks like he just wants to get this over with.

My gaze drifts down to our clothes. All three of us are wearing formal clothes in different shades of silver. It’s a very effective reminder that the Icehearts own us until they say otherwise.

The clothes were laid out in a dressing room that I was escorted into. I had planned to use the hour before the start of the ceremony to sneak around in the palace. After all, it’s the perfect opportunity to gather some intelligence for our resistance. But as soon as I stepped into the room, it was flooded with attendants who were there to help me bathe and dress and to do my hair. Getting all of it ready took the entire hour. But after this ceremony is finally done, I will have all the time in the world to do whatever I want.

My flowing silver dress rustles faintly against the floor as I continue following our guide through the throne room. The dress is elegant but more lowcut than I was expecting. The wide straps of the dress rest more on the side of my shoulders than on top of them, leaving my collarbones bare. Isera’s dress is in a similar style, and several of the male dragon shifters in the room let their gazes linger on our cleavage as we pass.

I resist the urge to reach up and undo my elaborate hairdo. All of my hair has been pinned up and twisted into swirls and braids that are fastened with glittering silver pins, so there is nothing obscuring the view of my neck and collarbones and cleavage. Isera’s long black hair has been pulled up in a similar style too, and I can’t help but feel as if this was the reason for that. The Icehearts want us to feel exposed so that they can enjoy one final power play.

The rest of the people in the massive throne room are dressed in formal wear too, but as opposed to us, theirs are not exclusively made of silver fabric. Instead, all kinds of colors are represented among the crowd. It makes me feel as if I’m walking through a colorful sea as I continue down the main aisle with rows of courtiers spreading out on both sides.

But as we draw closer to the raised dais on the other side of the room, all of my focus narrows down to three people.

Two massive thrones, made from the same sparkling material as the rest of the castle, are positioned in the middle of the platform. Empress Jessina and Emperor Bane are seated on them. As usual, they are wearing elegant clothes in their signature silver color. Jessina’s white hair has been pinned back from her face before it flows down her back while Bane keeps his black hair falling like a straight waterfall behind him. Their silver wings are spread wide, extending far past their icy thrones.

And to their right stands a figure dressed in all black.

My heart does a backflip in my chest as my gaze lands on Draven.

Among all the fancy formal clothes, he alone wears his black dragon scale armor. His black hair has been swept back from his face as if he has just nonchalantly dragged a hand through it, and his imposing black wings loom behind his shoulders.

I study his face as we close the final distance to the dais. I expect to see anger or annoyance or a threatening glare. Or any kind of emotion. But there is nothing. His handsome face is a blank mask, and he watches me with completely expressionless eyes. As if I’m nothing more than a random person who happened to wander into the castle. As if these past few weeks never happened. As if we never happened.

Pain twists my heart.

Annoyance immediately follows it, and I shove the pain aside. Why should I care if he is looking at me as if he doesn’t even know me? He’s at the top of my list of enemies, at the top of our rebellion’s list of enemies, so none of this matters anyway.

Our guide, the man in the white suit from earlier, stops five steps in front of the dais and executes a sweeping bow. “Your Imperial Majesties, may I present the winners of this century’s Atonement Trials.”

Still bent over, he shoots the three of us a pointed stare. I snap out of my tangled thoughts and quickly drop down in a curtsy.

Someone snickers from the crowd, which causes others to do the same.

Heat creeps into my cheeks. Clenching my jaw, I try to block out their judgmental laughter and instead focus solely on the Iceheart monarchs in front of me while our guide retreats into the crowd. I straighten from my apparently terrible curtsy.

“Alistair Geller, Isera Shaw, and Selena Hale,” Emperor Bane says. His powerful voice carries across the sea of people and echoes against the glittering ice walls. “Congratulations on winning the Atonement Trials.”

We all bow our heads in acknowledgement.

“Today, your entire life will change,” he continues. “You will leave your old life behind and embark on something new.”

My heart flutters with excitement, and it takes all of my willpower to stop a wicked grin from spreading across my mouth. Oh I will be embarking on something new, alright. My mission to bring you down.

“To formally recognize you as winners, you will be presented with a gift that symbolizes your change in status,” Jessina picks up, and snaps her fingers.

Three people approach from the edge of the dais while Jessina and Bane stand up from their thrones. They start towards us with regal steps. My heart leaps and then patters against my ribs when Draven starts towards us as well.

The three people who are approaching from the sides are each carrying a small decorative cushion in a pale blue color. Something rests on top of each pillow, but I can’t see what from down here.

Only the soft swishing of Jessina’s dress breaks the silence as she, Bane, Draven, and the three people with the cushions descend the steps from the dais. They spread out before us. Emperor Bane takes up position in front of Isera and Empress Jessina comes to a halt in front of Alistair.

My heart does another ridiculous flip when Draven stops in front of me.

The three people with the cushions take up position to the right of each of them, holding out the pillow to them so that they can reach the object on top of it. I know that I should probably look at the object, but my eyes are locked on Draven’s.

Standing there in front of me, he simply watches me with that same neutral expression. I try to read any sort of emotion in his eyes, but there is nothing.

A strange sense of calm resignation washes through me. This is how our time together ends. Not with a furious fight but with cold indifference.

“You will each be given an iron collar,” Empress Jessina says. “As a symbolic representation of your servitude to us and how your years of imprisonment in the Seelie Court are now at an end.”

Her words yank me out of my thoughts, and I snap my gaze down to the object on the pillow.

Just like she said, an iron collar rests there on top of the pale blue cushion. I suppress the urge to roll my eyes at the yet again very obvious power play.

Draven’s golden eyes sear into mine as he stands there before me.

I stare back at him.

“With the transfer of these collars,” Emperor Bane begins in a voice dripping with authority, “we hereby declare you winners of this century’s Atonement Trials.”

Relief and excitement and sheer triumph pulse through my soul.

As one, the three of them reach for the cushions.

I jerk back in confusion as they lift up the collars from the pillows.

But before I can so much as step back, Draven spins back towards me.

And snaps the iron collar shut around my throat.

I gasp as the iron presses against my skin. It cuts off my connection to my magic immediately. And while the size of the collar isn’t great enough to cause me to collapse, it still weakens me and burns cold against my skin, as if I have a band of ice around my throat.

The shock of it makes me stumble back. Next to me, the same thing has happened to Isera and Alistair too.

But before I can retreat more than half a step, Draven’s hand shoots out and wraps around my throat. With a firm grip, he pulls me back towards him and leans down.

To my left, Jessina and Bane are doing the exact same to Alistair and Isera.

Draven slants his lips over mine, just a breath away from touching.

And this close, where only I can see, that blank mask finally cracks. Pain and sorrow swirl in his eyes as he holds my gaze.

Then he whispers, so softly that even I can barely hear it even though his lips are right in front of mine.

“I wasn’t trying to sabotage you, little rebel. I was trying to save you. From this .”

Then he breathes in, sharply.

And sucks my magic out of my body.

I gasp.

Because of the iron collar, I can’t reach my magic. But I can feel it as it drains out of my body with Draven’s sharp inhale. And because our magic is so connected to our energy, it weakens me so much that my knees buckle.

Draven releases my throat, and I crash down on the ground since my legs can no longer support me. My knees hit the ground with a thud, and I just barely manage to yank up my arms and brace my palms on the smooth floor before I can topple forward and smack my forehead into it.

Next to me, more thuds sound as Isera and Alistair hit the floor as well.

I gasp in unsteady breaths. My body is so devoid of energy that my muscles tremble. I can barely manage to remain on my knees. But worst of all is my mind.

Shock clangs inside my skull like giant bells.

Draven inhaled my magic.

It will return, of course. Our magic is connected to our energy, so with enough rest, our magic builds back up to its previous level even if we drain it completely.

But I had no idea that someone else could drain our magic too. That the dragon shifters could drain it from us.

Tilting my head back, I stare up at Draven with wide eyes.

“Why?” I press out.

Something flickers in his eyes for a second, but then that unreadable mask is back on his face.

“Aww,” Jessina says, and leans down to draw her hand along Alistair’s jaw where he sways on his knees in front of her. “I love this moment. The moment when they realize that it was all a lie.”

Isera, who was bent over with her palms pressed against the floor, drags in a shuddering breath and looks up at the three dragon shifters before us. And for the first time ever, I see fear in her eyes.

“What?” she gasps out between heavy breaths.

“The Atonement Trials is a lie.” Empress Jessina flashes us a cruel smile. “It was never a way for you to earn your freedom. It is, and always has been, a competition to find the people who have the strongest magic among you. Because that is what we want. Your magic.”

“Yes,” Bane joins in. Reaching down, he gives Isera’s cheek a few patronizing pats that look almost forceful enough to be slaps. Malice shines in his black eyes as he stares her down. “Welcome to your new existence. As our life slaves.”

Alistair tries to pull away as Jessina reaches for him, but it only makes him topple sideways. While trying to push himself back up, he presses out, “What are you talking about?”

Jessina flashes him a smile that is all teeth. “We can feed on your magic, your energy, to live forever.”

My eyes widen as shock crackles through my veins.

“During the war, when we rose up and slaughtered all the dragon riders, we realized that we could collar you with iron and then feed on your magic to boost our own energy. Eventually, we realize that it also kept us from aging.”

“You…” I begin, my tongue stumbling over the word. “You were alive back then? When fae were dragon riders?”

“You mean when we were your slaves?” she snaps, her voice turning vicious. “Yes, we were. Bane and I are the only dragons still alive from those days. But we remember. We remember your cruelty and your entitlement. And now, it’s your turn to suffer.”

“But the previous winners,” Isera blurts out. Panic and fear now pulse unhindered in her eyes. “Where are?—”

“They’re dead.”

Isera jerks back as if Jessina had slapped her.

“It’s one of the unfortunate side effects,” Bane explains with a shrug. “Since we continuously drain your magic and energy at the same rate all the time, you eventually die. It takes roughly one hundred and fifty years. Which is when we hold a new competition.”

All color has drained from Isera’s face as she stares up at him. “Dead. She’s… dead?”

Bane frowns. “She?” Then realization pulses across his face. “Oh. Isera Shaw . Elena Shaw was your mother, wasn’t she?” He chuckles, and then a malicious grin spreads across his mouth. “Elena was my life slave. How fitting that I will now be your master too.”

Pain and heartbreak swirl in Isera’s eyes as she stares up at the emperor who now owns her. Next to them, Jessina strokes her hand along Alistair’s jaw again in a highly possessive manner.

Which means that I will be a life slave to…

Turning my head, I stare up at Draven Ryat. The Shadow of Death. Commander of the Dread Legion. One of the three most powerful and dangerous dragon shifters in the world. And now, my master.

My entire soul recoils at the mere thought.

Draven holds my gaze, his eyes once more unreadable as he watches me kneel there before his feet.

I curl my fingers into fists.

It doesn’t matter that he tried to stop me from winning. It doesn’t matter that he tried to prevent this. Or why.

Because at the end of the day, he still went through with it. He still put that iron collar around my neck and drained my magic.

Clenching my jaw, I glare up at him as rage burns through me.

I am not his slave. I will not let him drain my energy while he keeps me collared and kneeling at his feet. I would rather kill myself than spend the rest of my life as his slave.

Or better yet… I would rather kill him .