Soul of Ice (Chronicles of Dawn)

Chapter Twelve

Their gait was slow, as if Galen was just as reluctant as she. The second he said they were headed to the Court of the Moon, her mood immediately crumpled, alongside his. Not that it was great at the start.

Apparently, the king had much to catch up on in court, and instead of pushing off the dinner to another night, Surina was to join him until he was finished, and then they would have dinner.

This was going to be a long night.

“Why can’t I just wait in my rooms until he’s done?” she grumbled, now regretting the decision to wear something given to her by Ezra, who was clearly seeing how far his blackmail would stretch. The gown was surprisingly light, though, considering how full the satin skirts were.

“Am I even allowed in there? I’m still a mortal,” she tacked on when Galen stirred in his silent fury.

“You’re a princess of Thesia. You can go wherever you like in the keep,” he replied, sounding as if he needed to convince himself more than her. He looked to be seconds from turning them around, and he probably would have, had Cyril not given his approval.

She almost laughed at that—sure, she could go anywhere she liked, so long as another was attached at her hip.

Her stomach flipped as they neared the throne room doors, where two polished males idled. They didn’t look like guards, and it was evident they were awaiting her arrival, considering the way their eyes perked up.

“Princess Surina,” one of them said with an eerie politeness, following it up with a bow more grand than a princess was owed. “I will take her from here, Sir Castmont.”

“I think not,” Galen replied dryly, his knuckles whitening around the hilt of his sword. “I will see her to the king.”

The two lords looked incredibly offended, but Galen wouldn’t back down on this.

He forced a tight-lipped smile, the pointed tips of his canines sending her stomach into a fluttering mess—and not in a good way.

“Very well.” They stepped aside to let them through.

Inching closer to Galen, she really had to convince herself that no one would try anything in public, which was difficult to do when the doors groaned open, revealing a throne room that was completely unrecognizable.

Literally.

She couldn’t see a damn thing.

Despite the chandeliers having an enchantment to offer endless light to the great hall, none of them were lit. The only light within the chambers was that of the moon and stars from the night sky, filtering in through the crystal dome above the thrones.

She kept close to her guard, knowing his vision was far beyond that of a mortal, as any changed fae. Where she saw clustered groups of darkened silhouettes, he would see individual faces—threats, if there were any.

Even though she couldn’t see any of them, their stares were heavy, weighing down each of her steps, until they made it before the dais.

“Sir Castmont, ever the dutiful guard,” Ezra cooed from his place on the throne, his silver moonflower crown glimmering beneath the starlight. That’s about all she could make out. The rest of him was just a shaded figure in the gloom.

“Your security will not be needed for the remainder of the night. You may go.” Ezra dismissed Galen with far more apathy in his voice than she was used to.

Her guard didn’t move with the dismissal. “My king, as you well know, my position requires me to remain.”

An uneasy hush washed over the hall as those within it seemed to hold their breath—at least Surina had been, until Ezra finally spoke.

“I assure you, there is no place safer for the princess than at my side. So unless you have any further objections…”

She shuddered against the sinister invitation, one Ezra seemed to be waiting for Galen to accept. As did all the others, who shifted with an excited murmur.

Though he tensed at her side, Galen wasn’t deterred. But before her guard could open his mouth to say something he’d regret, Surina laid a palm on the back of his hand, where it strained against the hilt of his sword. The one he swore upon when her father knighted him and gave him the chance to be something more than bastard born.

“It’s okay, Galen. I’ll be fine.” She forced a smile, knowing he could see through the darkness.

Galen might have accepted the dismissal—through an act of the divines, she was certain—but he fought every bit of his retreat from the hall, his motions jerky and full of rage. She imagined he was regretting his earlier words about how Ezra made a better ally than enemy.

Turning to glance over the crowds of fae, she decided to stand in front of a marble column, not wanting to leave her back exposed. How was it possible to be completely surrounded yet feel so utterly alone?

“A chair for the princess,” Ezra said to no one in particular.

Footsteps shuffled, and a chair was brought to where she stood. She squinted to make out the profile of what had to be a female, based on the shapeliness of the figure.

“Not there,” the king stated flatly, dipping his head to the spot beside his throne. “Here.”

Whoever held the chair hesitated, as Surina would have done, because that was the side his consort would be seated on, if he had one.

Gesturing to where the seat was being brought up, Ezra seemingly awaited Surina’s ascent to the top.

“Your Majesty,” Surina ground out between the tight clench of her teeth. “It is not customary for me to—”

Her words ended abruptly, as Ezra was suddenly before her, wintry air enveloping her skin in a chilling haze.

“Since when have you ever followed the rules?” he murmured, her vision adjusting enough to at least make out the glimmer of an ivory canine, and the darkened teal of his eyes. He held out a hand for her to take, darting irises roving the length of the gown.

She didn’t have to see the expression on his face to know he was pleased to find her wearing it. Now, she wished she’d burned it, right alongside his little note.

Though her legs trembled against the icy fog climbing beneath the skirts of her gown, Surina lifted her chin high, refusing his offer to help her up the stairs by walking around him, which made him chuckle.

Carefully, she made her way to the top, each step an effort as she trained her eyes on the placement of her slippered feet. She froze on the last step, lips parting with a sharp surprise. The light from the dome allowed her to make out the features of the female who’d brought the chair up, shadows casting a nefarious mask on the hazel-eyed beauty.

Lady Giselle.

Ezra didn’t even glance at his mistress, if she could even be called that anymore. After all, he was treating her as if she were a servant. He took his spot at the throne once more, so Surina followed suit, reluctantly seating herself beside him.

A shuddering discomfort crept along her spine as Giselle remained in unsettling silence, like a dog awaiting her master’s command.

“You may return to your spot at the bottom, Giselle.”

Flinching at the dry nature of his words, Surina’s stare fell to her hands in her lap, and she ran her fingers along the bumps of the scar—it was strange how it could bring forth a fury like no other in one moment, while bringing comfort the next.

Doing as the king demanded, Giselle made her way to the steps, but an order laced with genuine contempt stopped her completely.

“You will bow before you go.”

Without hesitation, Lady Giselle faced the king, spreading the silken material of her dress into a wide curtsy.

“Not for me.” Ezra tilted his head in Surina’s direction. “For your princess.”

Surina’s head jerked up so fast, she thought she’d surely broken her neck. “That is not necessary,” Surina began to assure the king, but her voice trailed off when he lifted a hand to silence her.

“Your modesty is a breath of fresh air, Surina. The vanity in here can be... suffocating.” A grin formed at the end of his words, leading her to believe he was enjoying this—whatever this was.

Ezra rolled his hand with flair, as if to say, Go on .

Surina bit down a ruthless remark about his own vanity, not having the nerve to openly insult him in front of his court. She didn’t need to see the entirety of Giselle’s face to tell the lady kept a lethal glare on Surina, all the while replicating the same bow given to the king.

Regardless of the obvious animosity between them, Giselle was still a representative of the court of Stonefarrow and should be treated as such. But Surina was beginning to learn that this place wasn’t anything like her brother’s court.

Once Giselle’s heeled steps marked her return to the floor, Ezra called to the crowds. “Shall we begin?”

A choir of whispers resounded as various fae shifted through the masses, making their way to the foot of the dais to speak before the king. The topics were a mix of land disputes, trade, or various requests that needed to pass through the other court. Ezra handled each one with far less show than what Surina’s entrance had provoked, and she was grateful for that.

If she hadn’t been close enough to hear the soft sighs of boredom, or to see the minuscule winds of frost Ezra willed along his fluttering fingertips, Surina would have thought he actually cared about his subject’s issues. At the very least, he feigned his interest really well.

After approving a fae’s purchase of land to the south, Ezra’s stare slowly drifted over to Surina, whose spine was beginning to ache with how stiffly she was pressed against the back of the chair, not able to truly find comfort with so many immortals in one space. The lack of lighting didn’t help either.

“What?” she snapped under her breath, hunting for Ezra’s irises through the streaks of moonlight.

“You look like you’re in pain,” he muttered. “Relax.”

Her eyes narrowed on the king, and she lowered her voice without removing any of the bite. “Probably because I’m sitting beside the source of it.”

He ignored her offense, propping his head onto a fist to lean towards her. “The dress, I’m surprised you wore it. Though I’m thankful you did. You’ve brought it to life, just as you have this room by simply stepping into it.”

In her dazed stupor, her lips parted, but no words would come out. If he was fishing for something in the form of a thank you or a swoon, he would be miserably disappointed this evening. “I didn’t realize I had much of a choice in wearing it.”

“You always have a choice.”

She rolled her eyes. “Like I had a choice in being here?”

He snorted a laugh. “You could have said no.”

Her mouth fell right open, because they both knew that was a damn lie. “And then what? You tell my brother about the library?”

“Cyril already knows about the library,” he stated flatly.

“You know what I’m referring to.” More like who she was referring to, but she was afraid to say it aloud. Fynn, and how she’d almost kissed him—how she was alone with a male who had only transitioned months ago.

“I know what you’re referring to, but I fail to see how that has anything to do with me obstructing your freedom of choice. Unless, of course, you think I’m cruel enough to withhold the information in hopes that it would convince you to come tonight?” A smile tugged at his lips.

Was he messing with her? He had to be. “I see no other reason for you to keep it from him, so yes, I do think your cruelty would extend to blackmail.”

“Not everything regarding your life is his business,” Ezra said plainly, drawing close enough for the frosted mint of his words to grace her cheeks.

She stilled when he lifted a hand to her, tucking that same stubborn tousle of hair away.

A shudder coursed her body when the gentle touch grazed the point of her ear, his fingertips lingering longer than they needed to, but she couldn’t bring herself to pull away.

His voice became a low rasp. “Besides, there’s a certain allure to having a secret just between the two of us, wouldn’t you agree?”

It took three breaths for her to find her voice, a scowl materializing as she matched his stare, half-snarling, half-whispering in his face. “Whatever game this is, I’ll have no part in it.”

He grinned then, turning to face the two figures approaching. “If you say so.”

“I know so.” With a curse, she shoved into the back of her seat as his silken laugh incited a burning warmth in her blood—she wanted to believe it was from the seething hatred in her heart, but she’d just be fooling herself.

Following Ezra’s gaze, she was able to deduce that the two walking towards them were males. And really, only one was walking. The other was practically being dragged across the floor.

Heavy breathing and frantic whimpers fell from the one being dragged as he was shoved to his hands and knees before the dais. Based on his silhouette, she could find nothing that marked him as fae. No pointed ears or lengthy frame.

He was human.

Her pulse quickened as she braced her hands on either side of the chair to rise, but a frigid hold of iron closed over her arm, the sudden grasp forcing her right back into the cushioned seat.

Ezra kept his eyes on the two males, dipping his head just enough to whisper in her ear. “You will stay put, and you will not say a word. Do you understand me?” Ezra pressed, awaiting some sign of her compliance. By the sound of his voice, the humor from earlier was nowhere to be found, and the hard cut of his jaw should have been enough to keep her lips sealed.

“That’s a human,” she hissed, stating the obvious and jerking her arm from his clutches. He would have already known it was a human, but why was he brought here? Clearly it was against his will.

Surina did as the king commanded, though, staying put—for now. At least until she knew what was going on.

“My king,” the fae beamed. An extravagant display of a bow followed.

Ridding his voice of any emotion, Ezra spoke. “What have you brought before me, Lord Redbane?”

The name wasn’t familiar, but Surina didn’t really know many in the Court of the Moon. Whoever he was, he believed himself to be a prominent part of it, based on how freely he acted in front of the king. From here, she could tell the fae had dark hair, though there wasn’t enough lighting to make out the exact hue, nor any of his other features, apart from how he stood as if there were a rod shoved right up his—

“A rat, Your Majesty. One who thought he could play me for a fool,” the lord spat in the man’s direction.

Surina’s hands balled into fists in her lap as she struggled to contain the ferocity of her rising temper. Whatever she had to say would just make matters worse, not alleviate the tension. Even Ezra didn’t seem pleased with the fae’s arrival.

She sensed the raise of Ezra’s brow in his next words, though he made no attempt to defend the human. “I’m afraid you’ll have to be more specific than that, Lord Redbane.”

The lord sighed, as if the king asking for more information was such a trivial request.

Insufferable ass .

“In our initial, verbal agreements, I was to receive four ships for an agreed upon sum of silver, and yet, with our written agreement, the little snake slipped in an additional sum, with one less ship. As you can imagine, I’ve lost even more to investments relying on that fourth ship.”

Ezra leaned his head back, cracking each of his fingers resting on the arm of the throne with a thumb. “And is there a reason why I needed to be involved? You couldn’t have handled this matter on your own?”

On his own? What the hell did that even mean?

“I do apologize for bringing such a petty matter to your doorstep. Alas, this one—” he gestured to the man, who frantically twisted his head in either direction, likely searching for familiar faces in the gloom—much like Surina had done upon entering, “—is a member of the Court of the Sun.”

A member of her brother’s court? Surina peered down at the man, who seemed much younger than a lord she would expect to see in court. Most were the patriarchs of their families, typically in their fourth or fifth decade of life.

When she returned her glare to Ezra, she knew he could sense her. Nevertheless, he kept looking ahead.

“And what do you have to say to these accusations, Lord…?” The king trailed off, eyeing the man.

“Pembrooke, Y-Your Majesty.” His voice cracked and trembled. “I swear, my king, there was no such agreement beforehand.”

“You lying imbecile !”

Lord Redbane moved towards the human lord, planning to do only the divines knew what, but Surina wouldn’t allow it, standing too swiftly for Ezra to halt her this time. Or maybe he thought she would actually listen, for once.

Guess he didn’t know her that well.

“How much of an imbecile can he be, if he was able to, as you said, play you for a fool , Lord Redbane?” The shroud of gossamer fell from her shoulders as she was no longer holding onto it, fingernails digging into her palms in an attempt to cease the tremor of her hands.

A disquieting pause ensued as Ezra’s fist clenched and released many times. He wasn’t happy with her, but if he wasn’t going to put an end to this, she would.

“Perhaps you should have read through the terms more carefully?”

An icy thin laugh escaped Lord Redbane’s lips. “Your Highness. Such an honor to make your acquaintance. Though I’m not sure the setting is entirely appropriate for someone of your… blood.”

Her blood ? Did he mean her Fairlight blood? Or was he referring to her mortality? Either way, it was clearly meant as an insult. Thinking she’d used most of her magic in the training grounds, she was surprised to find that her body still yearned to release more , the desire brushing against the corners of her mind in luring drags—the feel of that invisible static rushed her flesh as rage flooded in.

No, moonflower , the gentle quiet of the voice spoke into her thoughts, a tender sweep of air caressing her cheek.

It forced away the greedy stretch of her magic.

Before she could question the voice on why or how it managed to corral the impulses, Ezra spoke on her behalf.

“Princess Surina is my guest this evening,” the king stated flatly, awaiting any form of objection from the lord.

Surina was probably the only one who could see the layer of ice already forming beneath his fingertips, traveling down the throne.

“ Princess ,” Lord Pembrooke cried out to her, a blossoming hope surging in his pleas. “Please, if you could speak to King Cyril on my behalf, I could—”

His words broke off as Lord Redbane shoved a foot into his chest, knocking the lord onto his side.

Surina dared a step forward. “Touch him again and I’ll—”

“You’ll what, princess? You are mortal. You have no say here.” The fae lord didn’t back down, not that she was arrogant enough to think he would. How threatening could she really be in this stupid dress?

Frigid wind cut through the hall, a looming presence brushing her bare shoulder as Ezra rose beside her. “Must I remind you who you’re speaking to, Lord Redbane?”

“Apologies, Your Majesty,” the fae lord cooed, offering a bow but the disregard didn’t stop there. “It’s just, I think we’re all rather curious why it is you’ve brought the princess here, as it is quite dangerous for her to be amongst this court before the change.”

Ezra stilled beside her, and she couldn’t even be certain if he was breathing, until he finally spoke. “And who here would pose a threat? You ?”

The lord laughed—a fake one that scraped against Surina’s ears like glass. “Of course not. I only worry that her mortal blood interferes with any just decisions that would be made otherwise.”

“You seem to have already made up your mind on what you believe to be a just conclusion, so get on with it.” The king made a gesture with his hand, as if to hurry things along.

The fae lord didn’t seem to care for that. “I would like our first agreed-upon prices, as well as the silver I’ve lost to this human’s greed.”

Surina didn’t believe for one second that Lord Pembrooke attempted to trick his way through a contract for more silver, and even if he had, did it warrant this kind of treatment?

Ezra looked to the human lord, who shook fearsomely as he made to stand, using the first step of the dais to help keep his balance. “Do you agree, Lord Pembrooke?”

He didn’t say a word, only nodding his adamant approval, as if his life depended on it. Surina wasn’t so sure it didn’t.

Returning his glare to Lord Redbane, Ezra sighed. “Are we finished then?”

“Not quite.” The fae lord smiled at Lord Pembrooke. “There is the matter of honor.”

“Honor,” Ezra repeated, barely stifling a laugh. Surina probably would have laughed, too, if not for the direness of the situation.

The male wouldn’t know honor if it slapped him in the face, which was precisely what Surina wanted to do right now. Among other, violent things.

The lord shrugged, a strange casualness compared to what he said next. “As is customary, a thief should lose his hands for such an offense.”

Her mouth fell open the same moment Lord Pembrooke began to scurry away from the male, but Lord Redbane grabbed the back of his collar, tossing him forward with ease.

“You will not.” She started towards the human lord, but the king snagged her wrist, inching his lips closer to her ear.

“It is the law, Surina.” The finality in his statement did nothing to end her opposition.

“And which law might that be? Where a human’s word stands no chance against that of a fae?”

Ezra’s teeth ground together. “This is far better than the alternative, I assure you.”

She didn’t know what he meant by the alternative, but it couldn’t be any worse than dismemberment. “It’s barbaric,” she returned, apparently loud enough for the hall to hear, as a chorus of laughter rang through.

This was funny to them, watching a human suffer—they ached for it. For blood to be spilled. Her brother warned her of the fae, and how immortality changes a being. How many centuries of feeling something did it take before they became numb to it? Before it was nothing more than thrills that kept them going?

Despite what she wanted to believe, Surina knew Ezra wasn’t to that point yet. She’d seen it with her own eyes how compassionate he could be—with her. Pretend or not, there had to be some semblance of decency in the male.

Ignoring the lingering cackles, Surina pressed her palm against the back of Ezra’s hand to draw his full attention. “You’re their king too,” she whispered, searching for the teal beneath those dark, midnight lashes.

The brush of his thumb along the pulse in her wrist brought forth a steady warmth. A sharp contrast to the wintry feel of his skin.

“Only one,” Ezra called out to the lord, without breaking away from her stare.

“What?” Surina’s brows knit together, his words not registering until the glint of a blade in her periphery snagged her attention.

Without thinking, she ripped her hand from his, flinging her palm out as if she could stop the fall of the blade. A burst of wind rushed from it, whipping right into the fae lord. The hit launched him backwards, the blade clattering onto the marble next to Lord Pembrooke.

Ezra’s hand cinched around her arm after that, jerking her against him so her shoulder was pressed into the hard surface of his torso. “While I love to see the merciless little creature you become when you don’t get your way, this is neither the place nor the time,” he warned in a harsh whisper against her hair.

Surina pulled back against his tight grip. It didn’t get her anywhere. “Let go of me,” she demanded, as the lord was already climbing back to his feet.

Ezra didn’t release her, instead sliding his other hand up the side of her neck to claim her jaw, forcing her to look at him. “You have no idea how any of this works.” His voice was a tickling purr against her skin, sending a shocking bolt of rigid shivers throughout. “But you will.”

Lord Redbane gathered himself rather quickly, no doubt feeling the embarrassment that came after getting knocked on one’s ass. “Your little pet oversteps, my king .”

Little pet ? What a pompous fuck , she thought to herself, seriously considering using her magic on Ezra next, if only to give her another shot at Lord Redbane.

Ezra chuckled, as if Surina had only made an off-kilter joke, and not just tossed one of his lords to the ground. “She’s a Fairlight. You know how fiercely they protect their humans.”

“Fuck you,” she snarled at the king, no longer giving a damn who stood before her.

The bastard only grinned, wide and brilliant, taking it upon himself to allow his fingertips to saunter over the hastening pulse of her throat.

The king’s taunting of Surina was apparently enough to make Lord Redbane feel at ease, mistakenly voicing his next words.

“Perhaps you should collar the bitch next time,” the lord jested, readying his blade again.

He didn’t get far.

One second, she was looking into those wicked blue-green irises, Ezra’s fingertips roaming her throat. The next moment, Ezra was gone.

Lights flickered, rising into a dull glow to illuminate the grand hall just enough for her to see Lord Redbane being hoisted into the air by his waistcoat.

Only it wasn’t his waistcoat.

Reaching through the fabric and flesh of the fae lord’s chest, Ezra had him pinned against an ivory column, the pristine surface now flecked with scarlet. “Now you overstep, Lord Redbane,” the king growled, a flurry of frost and wind picking up, thrashing at their hair and skin.

Nausea roiled in her stomach as deep red oozed from the hole Ezra had created in the fae, soaking the light gray of the king’s silken blouse.

A guttural, animalistic sound tore from the lord’s lips as he struggled against Ezra’s arm, frantic to alleviate the pain. But the king simply shifted his hold, drawing a faint snarl of agony from the lord.

“Ezra,” she breathed, willing her feet to move towards the end of the steps, where Lord Pembrooke gaped in horror.

Surina halted halfway down the steps when Ezra glanced over at her.

She didn’t even recognize him—the night in the library didn’t compare to this. Now, he looked… feral. Like a creature not of this realm.

“Stop this,” she said quietly, praying he could hear beyond the winds. “Please.”

He heard her, seeming to wrestle with her words initially. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, but unlike earlier, her heart didn’t warm.

“As you wish,” the king said, soft enough that she had to read his lips to understand. With a jerk, he pulled his hand from Lord Redbane’s chest, and with it…

His heart.

Surina slapped a hand over her mouth to hold down the climbing sickness as the lord’s body collapsed to the floor, leaving a trail of blood in its path.

“Disrespect will not be tolerated,” Ezra said coolly, seemingly bored as he inspected the heart resting in his palm. His empty stare slid over the husk left behind. “That goes for the rest of you,” he warned the masses, who remained in utter silence.

“Now,” Ezra approached the human lord, who looked just as horrified as Surina. Dropping the organ right beside him, the sound made a repulsive squish as it hit the marble. “Thank your princess for seeing something in you that I simply do not.”

In the dim lighting, she saw the full effects of the male’s terror—wide brown eyes tinged with veins of red. His fair skin was battered and bruised, and his breeches—soaked with the aftermath of this dreaded night.

He’d thought he wouldn’t make it out of this alive. How many others had been dragged here against their will? Brought before Ezra to be beaten and tortured? Or worse.

“Th—thank you princess. I will nev—never forget this. I am indebted to you.”

Every stumbled word threatened to draw tears from her eyes, but she kept her jaw tight as his thanks continued to pour out.

She didn’t hear any of it, not as she glimpsed the male who was now studying her, his face nothing like she’d ever seen before. It contained not an ounce of regret or sorrow for the life he’d just taken—for the peace he’d stolen from Lord Pembrooke.

If he asked her again if she thought him capable of killing his own father over a crown, there would be no doubt in her mind that he truly could do such a thing.