Soul of Ice (Chronicles of Dawn)

Chapter Eight

Mindlessly sliding her fingers along the dragon-scaled text, Surina studied the curves of the rising flames before her, until the sound of the drawing room door opening snatched her from the heated lull.

Two soldiers walked in, neither with faces she recognized. The black leather of their attire and their cowls of deep blue were the only indicators they answered to the Nightwood name.

Ezra had taken it upon himself to post some of his own men outside of her suite, which General Castmont and Cyril vehemently opposed for almost an hour. They quickly changed their minds once they learned of Surina’s adventure to the library, and how the guards along the west wing failed to ensure her return from the kitchens. He, surprisingly, left out the part about Fynn, which she imagined was only because he didn’t want anyone knowing he tried to kill the prince.

“No one is to come in or out of these chambers.” Ezra kept his voice low as he spoke to them, but little effort went into masking the threat behind those words.

“What of the princess?” one of them asked, his tone as emotionless as his features.

Surina leaned against the back of the sofa, squinting as she focused on reading their lips.

As if he could sense Surina’s stares, the king glanced over, and she snapped her head towards the fireplace, cinching the blanket tight around her shoulders.

Whatever Ezra said afterwards was lost to her mortal hearing. There was only a muted blend of whispered commands as she struggled to recall how she even got back to her rooms in the first place. The last she remembered, she was fighting the arms trying to pry her away from the closet in the east wing—away from Frasier.

Swallowing against the dry lump in her throat, Surina curled her legs onto the sofa, beneath the skirts of her gown she had yet to change out of. With every heavy blink of her eyelids, fatigue threatened to drag her under, but she didn’t have the courage to let it. What she saw tonight… The frigid vacancy of life as she lifted his hand into hers and felt nothing .

Having been to many funerals for fallen soldiers of Thesia, it wasn’t the first time she’d seen a dead body, though it was the first time she’d seen a child’s. And the first time a body had felt so empty. So bare. Even now, the chills of earlier persisted, despite the warming glow of the fire.

Almost leaping out of her seat when something brushed her back, her heart settled to a mostly normal pace when she saw it was only Ezra, placing another throw around her before seating himself on the other sofa to her left. The two soldiers were no longer in the room, and all that remained were the two of them.

Raking his fingers through his mess of midnight strands, Ezra looked everywhere but at Surina, seeming to have a newfound interest in frosted glass. After everything she said about his father, she didn’t blame him. She was honestly surprised he chose to stay.

“I appreciate you bringing me back to my room, but I’m sure you have a lot going on with—”

“I’m not leaving. Not until the rest of the wing is secure.” He cut her off before she could even finish the thought, crossing an ankle over a knee and stretching his arms along the back of the sofa, as if to seal himself in place.

Why did he always have to make it impossibly difficult to be nice? Biting her tongue, she whipped her head away from the king, hoping to settle the flicker of rage before opening her mouth again.

Cyril and General Castmont were in the process of locking down the rest of the western halls, ensuring no other mortals were wandering the keep. So Ezra volunteered to remain here, pending her brother’s return, which couldn’t come soon enough.

“You’ve already checked my room and placed your own guards. I’m literally in a tower, so unless someone plans to scale the sides, I don’t think there’s a reason to believe I’m in any danger. You don’t have to sit and hold my hand all night.” It came out with a bit more edge than she wanted it to, but overall, she was impressed with her restraint. Not a single curse.

The first thing Ezra did when they made it back was a full sweep of her rooms and everything inside. He even thought to check the armoires, almost losing his fingers when attempting to search the one with all of her undergarments and nightgowns—she accepted the risk of leaving that one alone.

It was a little unnerving, watching him glide around each room of the suite, appearing a bit too familiar with the placement of her things. Even before she’d stopped talking to the king, Surina could count on one hand how many times he’d ever been in her room. She supposed it made sense, having lived in the keep for centuries, he had to know the ins and outs of every room.

“If you wanted to hold my hand, Surina, all you had to do was ask,” he teased, the taunt missing some of its usual flare.

Surina only glowered in response, not having the energy to return to their earlier game of insults.

He seemed to share in her opinion, quickly resigning the forced grin with a sigh. “Until we find out what happened to the boy, it’s best to be over cautious.”

When he let his head fall back against the sofa, shadows danced across his cheeks, and she studied how the fire’s light bounced the shaded contours beneath the cut of his jaw, wondering how it was possible for a living being to look like they were carved from marble—then his words sunk in.

“Wait, what do you mean, until we find out ? It was a fae. Can’t you pick up their scent or something?” Surina was certain the fae sense of smell was beyond that of a hound’s, and surely the killer would have left a trace behind.

“There were no bite marks or loss of blood. There wasn’t even any trauma to the body to suggest…” Ezra’s words trailed off as his head rolled in her direction, maintaining his reclined position. “All you need to know is that it’s being taken care of. You don’t have to worry.”

As if she would drop it simply because he said so? Surina wanted to worry. “I saw him only a few hours ago, Ezra. He was laughing and smiling, and…”

Vibrant . Full of life. She could only think of Malachi now, and how happy he was for his son to be following in his footsteps. He was only fourteen. A child .

“He couldn’t have just dropped dead,” she murmured, returning her touch to the dragon book tucked into her lap beneath the blankets. “I was the one to find him like that, and I think I have a right to know what happened. Whether he suffered or not...”

Her words choked off at the end, and while she was able to stifle the sob, she wasn’t half as fast at stopping the well of tears that had long since collected. When she moved to wipe them away, chilled fingers halted her reach. With a gasp, her eyes flew back open to find that, beyond the streaming rivulets, awaited a blurry silhouette of black and teal kneeling before her.

Pulling her hand from her face, he replaced it with his own. But his fingers didn’t stop at her cheeks, passing over to drag her hair behind an ear instead. It was his magic that lifted the salt stains from her flesh. Glistening droplets that collected into one before dispersing into thin air.

“I shouldn’t have left you alone,” he whispered hoarsely. “I let my temper get the best of me, and I’m sorry you had to be the one to find him, Surina.”

For the second time tonight, she was lost for words, though it wasn’t words she was hunting for in the moment, but that part of her that wanted to hate him.

But as his hand curved to cup her cheek, and her eyes fluttered against the wintry feel, that hatred was nowhere to be found.

With a nudge, he dipped her chin, just enough so their stares were aligned. “I’ll never leave you like that again, I swear.”

She wanted that to be true, and by the way he looked at her now, she almost believed it. If only they could go back to what it was like before she’d overheard him with Giselle. Even just hours before. Surina had turned nineteen that week, and it was her first Solstice Ball where Cyril let her dance with the fae—with Ezra. It was everything she could have ever dreamed of. The dips and swirls, the music and laughter.

She shuddered, the drag of his flesh on her cheek now reminding her of the way his touch trailed lower and lower with every dance that evening, until he pulled her right under his frosted spell.

He could call it a girlish crush all he wanted, but if he thought for one second he wasn’t partially to blame for her feelings, then he really was an idiot—or maybe he knew exactly what he was doing, and she was simply playing her part in his games.

“What do you want from me?” Her voice came out broken and weak, but she knew he heard her when the hand along her jaw tensed.

The king’s brows furrowed as she drew back from his hold, and he slipped his palm away. “What do you mean?”

“I mean this .” She gestured around them before tucking back under the layers of blankets, the fabric giving her the false security she needed to scrounge together whatever courage was left. “Why are you here?”

Rising from his knees, Ezra peered down through dipped lashes, making his eyes impossible to read—not that the unveiled version of them was any easier. “I had to make sure you were okay,” he said so softly it made her chest strain.

She didn’t want her heart getting the wrong idea, so she put an end to it.

“Since when do you care?” Surina pushed herself up from the cushions, ignoring the quiver in her legs as he matched her glare. “Do you even remember the last time you bothered to check on me? Because I don’t.”

Something like a wince briefly crossed his features before it glazed over into a hardened scowl of steel.

Good , she thought, exactly how it should be —a thorn in his side. A snide laugh blew past her nostrils, and she turned from him, making it as far as her bedroom door before her fingers stilled on the handle at the sound of his voice.

“ Surina .” He spoke with a stark warning, as if she were about to get reprimanded for walking away from her king. No, it wasn’t just that... there was something different about the way he spoke her name this time. Like he needed her to stay.

Whatever lies he was hoping to conjure in the moment had no weight over the truth he spoke behind closed doors—or what he believed was a closed door.

Surina released her hold of the handle, the slide of her skirts sweeping the floors as she dropped into a bow, dipping her head low enough to not have to meet his gaze. It was as polite of a dismissal as she could muster without opening her mouth, afraid that the moment her lips parted, there’d be no control over what came out.

The king didn’t say another word, nor did he try to stop her as she crossed into her bedchamber, sealing herself in with a turn of the lock.

Shrugging off the blankets still wrapped around her, she shuffled through the darkness of her room, heading straight for the armoire—which had no one waiting inside of it, just as she presumed—to grab a nightgown. She had to agree, though, it made a pretty good hiding place, so she shoved the dragon-scaled book beneath a pile of silk and lace, fastening the doors before swiftly changing for bed.

The light coming under the door from the drawing room fireplace was the only indication that Ezra remained when she hopped into bed. Minutes passed as she shaped and curled into various positions, groaning with defeat when she tossed onto her back for the third time, finally accepting that sleep wouldn’t be as easy as she hoped.

Kicking herself out of the knotted mess of linens she’d gotten herself into, Surina unfurled all her limbs.

After everything that happened tonight, she was ashamed that her mind was able to wash it all away so effortlessly with just a trace of Ezra’s scent, which still lingered on her hair and skin. Her blood stirred the moment she charted where his own fingers had lain a path along her throat, closing her eyes to only see his.

It was wrong, she knew, but maybe she could pretend that it wasn’t his touch she imagined as her fingers dragged down her throat, passing between the swells of her chest, where the silver crescent sat.

Her body wouldn’t rest, even as she kneaded the throbbing peaks of her breasts, begging for more friction than what the silken gown could offer. The motions only incited a rush of liquid desire from her core, seeping into a pulsing ache between her legs.

That ache pushed her further into the madness, and with one last glance at the door, ensuring it really was locked, she continued down, and down—biting against her lip to stifle the whimpers as her fingers met slickened flesh.

A gentle huff of air was all she would allow as she pressed into the bundled nerves in the center, bringing another hand down to slide a finger inside. Then two.

Gods, it was terrifying how easy it was to lose herself in the ecstasy of it all, each pump shining a light on every darkened corner of her mind.

Knowing she’d find the shame of it later, Surina conjured a chilling aura along her fingertips, her back arching the moment she returned to herself, and it didn’t take long after that for the tight strand of release to coil.

She timed every plunge with the frantic swirl of the sensitive bud at her center, silently writhing in the arctic bliss. Her lips parted to suck in a gasp of air when the twining climax finally split, and she drifted on that sweet cloud of release until her churning heart settled.

Rolling over onto her side in a slow, languid movement, Surina awaited the humiliation of what she’d just done, but there wasn’t any. Not even as she tugged the blanket back up over her body, noticing the light had gone out in the drawing room.

For a moment, she thought she saw wisps of fog twisting up from the cracks where the light had been, but after a series of blinks, her room was as desolate and empty as always. She’d almost prefer the molten heat of shame to this…

This isolation.

◆◆◆

Standing from the armchair for the sixth time since she’d walked away, Ezra was struggling to suppress every snapping urge he had to charge into her bedchamber.

She shouldn’t be alone , he thought, halfway to her door before he came to his senses again, returning to stand in front of the fireplace. Surina didn’t want him anywhere near her, and he didn’t blame her for it, so he respected her wishes, excruciating as they were.

With his own soldiers guarding her room, she would be safe, but after finding her in that closet, he couldn’t bring himself to leave. Not again.

I won’t be there the next time you need saving .

That lie haunted him the second it left his mouth in the library. He hadn’t realized there’d been more trust left to give, but he saw it leave her eyes then, clouding over into a storming gray. It’s for the best , he told himself, but he’d never seen her look so alone as in that moment.

He sat on the sofa, the motion stirring a sweet scent of vanilla and jasmine from the cushions—the lure of her aroma was another battle in itself. Leaning back, he splayed his arms along the oak frame, clenching and releasing his hold in an effort to dissuade any further bad ideas.

Despite his attempts to distance himself, one rustle from her room and curiosity got the best of him. Only for a second , he vowed, homing in on the brush of linens against flesh as Surina shuffled restlessly on the other side of the walls. He knew she normally had trouble sleeping, but this was different…

Ezra’s head snapped over his shoulder the moment a restrained whimper broke the muffled silence and realization hit.

A spark of heat ignited within his blood as the masked cries continued, and he ached to assuage just what those sounds did to him. She thought she was being so quiet, too, but those mousy little pants were a fucking orchestra to his ears—it was torture. Pure, wicked torture.

It should be him in there, dragging those sounds from her lips. Making her forget every horrid memory of tonight.

Rushing ice spread beneath his fingertips as he trained his ears on that wild heart of hers, completely enraptured by the pleasure she was bringing herself. Its beats grew louder, more erratic with each hissing breath between her teeth. The timing was like rolling thunder, drawing closer and closer, until—

Fuck . Before he knew it, his winds had blown out the enchantment of the fireplace, and a palm was flat against the surface of her door, the other ready to break through whatever lock she thought could keep him out.

He needed to be in there, because he knew what came after that high. A dark loneliness he was all too familiar with. Tendrilled fog slipped from his skin in a cloaking haze, his fingers curling around the now-frozen handle. And just as his muscles flexed to do his bidding, footsteps climbing the stairs to her suite severed whatever corrupt spell she had unknowingly put him under.

A deep rumble of a growl trembled within his chest, and he tore himself away, meeting the intrusion before it could make it to the door.

Golden hair and narrowed green eyes awaited, matching his own displeasure. “The wing is secure,” Cyril muttered, his gaze sweeping over Ezra’s shoulder.

With a sideways smile, Ezra leaned into the frame of the doorway, blocking Cyril’s view of the drawing room beyond—the Fairlight king didn’t trust him with his sister, but Ezra didn’t trust anyone except himself with her.

“Anything else?” Ezra inquired, finding it difficult to hide how annoyed he was with Cyril’s sudden appearance.

Cyril only snorted a laugh, making his second attempt at glancing past. “I didn’t come here to give you information, Nightwood. I wanted to check on Suri one last time.”

“She’s asleep,” he said dryly, fingers itching to show the golden-haired king how little he appreciated his tone. Instead, he stepped into the foyer, closing the door behind him without a look back. “I was just leaving. So should you. She needs rest.”

While Ezra hadn’t actually planned on leaving her yet, he figured it would save her the awkwardness of facing her brother after the wonderfully unholy things she just did to herself—Surina could thank him later. She could also thank him for not mentioning her little dalliance with the Blackwell bastard. If that boy so much as stretched a finger in her direction…

“Don’t pretend to know what she needs,” Cyril growled, the flare in his temper making him look more like his father than ever before. “And I certainly don’t like the idea of your men idling outside of her rooms.”

Any cool resolve he might have been able to falsify shattered right there, and he crossed the space between them. “If anything happens to her, Fairlight or Nightwood, it won’t matter, because we’ll both look weak. I won’t have others questioning my reign because of you . So why don’t you let me do what I do best, Fairlight ?” Ezra leaned in, a condescending sneer peeling his lips back into a warning flash of teeth. “Which is keeping your family from extinction, apparently.”

That seemed to do it—turning Cyril’s face the same shade of red as Surina’s when she was beyond livid. Ezra liked it better on her, though, the flush bringing out the brilliant light of her blue-gray eyes.

Cyril appeared as if he had more to say, but was apparently reading the air well enough to not actually say it. The golden-haired king spun away from Surina’s room and trudged down the stairs. Ezra left soon after, catching one last whiff of her scent, which climbed its way through a crack beneath the door. It took everything in him not to turn back.

The guards at the bottom of the stairs nodded upon Ezra’s departure, and with two more of his soldiers patrolling outside of the palace, around the base of her tower so they had eyes on her balcony, there was no way for her to leave without his knowing.

Surina attempting to leave through the balcony in the cold was unlikely, but not so unlikely that she could be trusted not to. Not when she’d successfully managed it years ago, the night she was attacked in the gardens. She hadn’t wanted to risk the guards in the west wing spotting her and waking Cyril or Sir Castmont, so for some reason, she believed the balcony to be a better alternative.

Ezra would never forget that night. He’d just finished up in court, and had stepped outside to get away from Giselle and the packs of fae, groveling for lands and power. That was when a brilliant fire lit up the night sky. Somehow, he had known, deep within his bones, that it was Surina who set that tree on fire.

She shouldered a lot from that night, and he imagined she always would. Through every nightmare or snap of her fingers from which no flame followed… the mark it sealed into her flesh. What happened in the gardens was nothing compared to what those fuckers left behind.

Passing through the halls of the keep, waving off every ass-kissing fae that crossed his path, he finally made it to the eastern wing, pausing by the closet where Surina found the halfling.

Ezra peered inside, and though it had since been cleaned out, he could still see it all. The grief in Surina’s eyes—the fierce way she fought against his pull to stay by the boy’s side until his father could take her place—made her look so much like her mother.

The night Sienna lost Casimir was the night Ezra realized he had never truly loved anyone or anything. Not in the way they loved one other. Outlasting a mate, he was told, was akin to ripping one’s heart out. He’d wondered if Sienna had been happy to follow Casimir into death those few months later.

Slamming the door closed, he forced breath into his lungs until they were achingly full, releasing the inhale as he continued down the east wing. When he finally turned onto the corridor leading to his own suite, he immediately sensed the presence of another beyond the doors.

As he neared, the guard posted outside met him halfway.

“She wouldn’t take no for an answer,” the male said flatly, fingers twitching at the hilt of his blade as he awaited the command to remove the trespasser.

“I’ll handle it,” he sighed, nodding behind him. Ezra’s way of dismissing him for the evening.

Stepping into the drawing room, the rush of lavender was enough to make him nauseous, though it was when his eyes fell upon smooth, olive skin and long, silken brown hair that he truly became ill.

“You really need to work on their manners.” Her sultry voice drifted by.

“What do you want, Giselle?” Ezra was in no mood for her games tonight, but by the way she lay sprawled out on the lounge with nothing but the usual scraps of fabric covering her necessities, it seemed games were all she had prepared.

Taking note of his irritation, she sat up from her back, brushing out the wrinkles in her gown. If one could even call it a gown. “You rushed out of court before it could even begin. I was worried about you—and the princess, of course. That poor boy she found… such a shame.”

She had to be digging for something, because there wasn’t a shred of compassion behind that glittering veneer. A silver-tongued enchantress sent from his aunt’s court in Stonefarrow to act as the duchess interim since his aunt was banished from the palace. A spy is all Giselle was, and he knew it from the beginning, so he let her think she was using him.

“I’ll ask again,” he said, leaning forward to rest his palms against a nearby table. “What do you want?”

A nefarious smile curled the ends of her lips up, and with a flick of her wrist, the fireplace erupted with the enchantment. “Always so serious.” She pouted, inspecting her fingernails in the fire’s light. “Except when it comes to marriage, apparently.”

Ezra lost a hold of his glare, and it froze over into a chilled humor, his laugh surprising even himself. “ Marriage ? Is that what this is about? Gods, Giselle, it’s been almost two years. Give it a rest already.”

Her cool facade flickered for a moment, before returning to a disdainful grin. “I actually cared for you, you know? I stayed at your side during your grief. You never could get over Sienna, though, could you?”

That was all it took for the blood in his veins to turn into flecks of ice. “What does Sienna have to do with anything?”

With a shrug, Giselle strolled along the edge of the table he leaned against, dragging a finger over a pile of books, and singling out one in particular—one he kept purely because it was a favorite of Surina’s. “In all of my reports to Liliana, I never once mentioned the Fairlight princess. You had me fooled, thinking she was some act of pity. A poor parent-less girl you felt sorry for. But then I saw you practically carrying her to her rooms tonight, doting on her like she was some precious thing made of glass, and then it clicked.”

Giselle tsked, pulling the book up to her nose before inhaling deeply.

Vanilla and jasmine, he already knew.

“Every day she looks more and more like her mother, doesn’t she? No wonder you haven’t called on me in over a year. If the duchess were to find out—”

“Spare me the fucking theatrics and say what you want already.” His teeth clenched together, and when he looked up from the book now returned to the table, victory was already in her eyes.

“Is it not obvious? All I’ve ever wanted was to be by your side. As your consort.”

“As if I’d ever make you consort,” he scoffed, pushing up from the table to face her completely.

“Why? Because the duchess sent me here? Don’t pretend like you didn’t know I was working for her from the start. We all work for her.” Giselle’s kohl-lined eyes narrowed. “Or is it because you want Surina ? If that girl knew half the things you’ve done, she’d run screaming.” Giselle drew closer, catching the underside of his jaw with the tip of a fingernail. “I wouldn’t run from you, though. I understand you more than anyone.”

The brush of her skin running down his throat was the last straw, and the sound of choking breaths was his first indication that he’d acted without even realizing it, but there was no going back now.

Slowly, he brought his chin down to meet widened, hazel eyes. He once thought her face was agreeable. Even her touch had been pleasing enough. Now, all he could think was how revolting she was. The sight and smell of her—all of it, wrong .

Swiping against the iron hold at her neck, Giselle fought for air, but he needed to get the point across, without interruption. “How about this … you have until the end of the week to leave the palace. Breathe a word of this to anyone, and I’ll ensure you return to Stonefarrow without your honeyed tongue.”

Shoving her back, Giselle dropped onto her knees in a fit of wheezing coughs. After she righted herself, and the retching ceased, the shrills commenced. “You can’t do this. I am her representative. When Liliana finds out, she’ll—”

“She’ll what ? Replace you with another?” Ezra chuckled, turning from the enchantress before swinging the door open and gesturing for her to leave—he prayed her insecurities were enough to make her doubt the duchess’s faith in her. “Oh, and if it’s her favor you’re worried about losing, don’t worry, you lost it the moment you lost mine.” It was his turn to smile now, though he wasn’t foolish enough to think this meant it was over. Still, it felt pretty damn good to truly rid himself of the bitch.

Giselle didn’t move, standing her ground with a vicious scowl, one she normally wore when her jealousy reared its ugly head. “I have given you years of my life. If you think I’m just going to let you humiliate me because of some Fairlight cunt , then—”

A thick crunch replaced Giselle’s shrieking, followed by an echoing thud of her body connecting with marble.

Shoving her over with a booted foot, he cursed at himself for sending his guard away for the evening. With a low grumble, Ezra bent over to grab onto an arm, sliding her unconscious form across the floors until she was mostly in the corridor.

There were many ways to kill a fae, but a snapped neck wouldn’t. Piercing the heart or decapitation were the only certain deaths. Drowning, too, if the body stayed under long enough.

Not bothering with the lock on the door, Ezra figured her humiliation would be enough to keep her from entering his chambers again, so he made his way to the balcony. Taking in the brisk, midnight air, he settled into a lounge facing the western keep. From here, he could just make out Surina’s terrace, where, some nights, she would spend hours staring out into the gardens before sleep finally claimed her chaotic spirit.

Closing his eyes, he envisioned the warm press of her cheek in his palm, and how she leaned into it, just before she remembered to hate him again.

What do you want from me? she’d asked, torn and confused. He was cruel for even offering such a comfort after everything he’d put her through.

He was wrapped around her finger from that first dance at the ball over a year ago, and by the end of the last, he was ready to fold on the spot—so he pushed her away, despite what they shared that night, making her believe it was all in her head.

Surina was right to walk away from him, deserving far more than his lies, and the wretchedness of his past. She deserved a male who was good . One who would do good for her, and that male wasn’t him. But after seeing her melt in another’s touch, something snapped inside, and there was no turning back from that.

Ezra knew what had to be done now, and he didn’t care if he had to drag that beautiful soul of hers down to the depths of the Eyre with his own.

Surina would be his.