Soul of Ice (Chronicles of Dawn)

Chapter Thirteen

Runa peeked her head in just enough to get a good view of the library, smiling to herself when she found no one inside. She shoved the door wide open. Her heeled shoes echoed in the massive chamber, reverberating off the towering marble walls.

“We shouldn’t be here,” a male spoke quietly from behind her.

With a roll of her eyes, Runa twisted to walk backwards, eyeing the halfling who shuffled cautiously through the doorway. “Are you scared?” she droned, offering a mocking wink when his light green eyes narrowed on her. He was handsome for a halfling, especially in the glow of the fireplace.

After the Fairlight princess stormed off during breakfast this morning, Runa and the male had a very productive conversation when he returned to clear the table, though she couldn’t actually recall his name.

“We could just go to your room.” His voice was low, a sultry request.

She could admit that made her pulse hasten, and she would have agreed, had there not been some of the Nightwood king’s soldiers on standby.

“Not when there’s two creeps sitting outside of it,” she mumbled.

Runa doubted they would care if she brought the male into her room, considering they didn’t even try to stop her from leaving without a guard, but she didn’t like that they could hear everything she was doing inside. Nadia didn’t really seem to care for them either, based on their interactions each time she dropped Runa back off at her room—which was no interaction at all. No shared remarks or even nods at one another. Come to think of it, Runa hadn’t heard them utter a single word, not even to each other.

“Besides, all the fae are in court, and those that aren’t are probably in the city, hunting.” She dragged a nail across the rows of texts she passed by, saddened by how tempted she was to pick one up. Had she really gotten to the limits of her boredom that she was actually considering reading to fill the time? How depressing.

“Hunting?” he inquired, lingering by the full light of the fire.

“For blood, obviously.” Spotting a section of shelving that housed little trinkets and baubles, she changed course.

“That’s illegal.”

Runa only shrugged, flicking a strange glass ball attached to a box, the quick jerk setting off some type of spark inside, which smoothed over into a shifting glow, like a tiny fire. Only it wasn’t like any fire she’d seen before.

All of the trinkets appeared to be devices of some sort, probably devices from the human empire they’d put on display. “So is a mortal roaming the streets in the evenings without authorization, but they do it anyway.” And should they get caught, they paid for it with their lives.

“Why would the fae have to hunt when there are feeders?” The halfling shook his head, like he didn’t believe what she was saying.

Honestly, though, why would he believe her? The mortals in Thesia were manipulated into thinking they were on equal standing with the fae, so there was no reason to fear, so long as the sun was out or they were inside before it fell. It was a ruse—a sinister one. At least in Calaechia, the fae didn’t hide their true nature. Even before the curse, humans were raised to respect the fae—to revere them. How many mortal lives were lost here due to sheer ignorance?

“Because they’re predators, and there’s nothing more exciting than the hunt,” she answered dryly, setting down some rotating contraption of golden spheres. A strange iciness gathered against her back then, a common sensation that always seemed to come and go. Usually if she ignored it, the feeling would subside. This time it was persistent though, like it was content with following her every move.

Runa stalked closer to the fire, where the halfling hovered in front of an armchair nearby—he also shuddered, but she was pretty sure it was from her comment about the fae rather than the nagging chill.

So, he was a big softie. That made her smile.

“I take that back,” Runa corrected, dragging a finger up the male’s cream-hued blouse, until she met the tanned skin of his throat. “There’s one thing fae like more than the hunt.” She snagged the underside of his jaw with the tip of a nail, leaning close enough for her lips to barely brush his.

“And what’s that, princess?” His chest rose and fell with heady breaths, anticipation weighing down the air.

“The kill,” she whispered, catching him off guard with a light shove into his torso.

The movement forced him backwards, and into the armchair. His eyes widened with an approving gleam as she looked him up and down, the proof of his approval pressed against the fabric of his pants.

“I don’t know what it’s like in Calaechia, but King Cyril would never allow such a thing here.” He tried to keep his tone casual, but she recognized that look in his eyes. This was his lucky night, and he knew it—she knew it.

“You think your little king doesn’t know? That’s sweet,” she teased, pulling the long velvet material of her gown up to her knees, just enough to slide atop his lap, straddling him. “In case you’ve forgotten, he’s a fae too. And just because your princess is mortal still, doesn’t mean she’s innocent.”

He frowned at the taunting mention of his king and princess. “I thought you were a friend of the Fairlights—of Princess Surina?”

She slowly undid the buttons of his blouse as his hands claimed each of her legs, sweeping higher to cup the curve of her ass—she was right to assume he’d be well-acquainted with the female body, every graze of his hands seeming to have very little hesitation. “ Please . That girl is a self-righteous snob. They all are.”

Stilling the skim of his fingers, he glared at her. “I don’t think you’ll find many who share in your opinion. The Fairlights are kind. Compassionate. Always have been.”

Runa couldn’t help but sneer at the sure way he spoke of the Fairlights, and with so much admiration too, like everyone else in this damned keep. It was tiresome.

“Oh? You must be older than you look to know something like that.” He was definitely older than Runa, though it was difficult to pinpoint the age of a halfling. They were a strange breed, halflings. Not quite immortal but still living up to a few centuries longer than a human, depending on their parentage.

His jaw went taut before he answered. “My family has served in the keep for generations, and I have only ever witnessed their kindness.”

“Wasn’t it the princess who found that halfling boy?”

“I… Yes, I think so. What does that have to do with anything?” The change in question seemed to catch him off guard, and he started to withdraw his hands from her legs.

“She’s at the age most fae transition,” Runa stated flatly, cocking her head to the side as she waited for him to put the two instances together. When he didn’t, she had to swallow her irritation before speaking. “She probably killed him. That would explain why the murderer hasn’t been found. Because they’re hiding it.” She doubted that was actually the case, but sometimes people needed a nudge to get them to start questioning the world around them.

“I didn’t come here to slander the Fairlight name with a princess of another kingdom.” He started to shift beneath her weight, attempting to free himself from the armchair.

With a feigned pout, Runa leaned into his chest, forcing him back down. He could stay in his little pretend world. “Tell me then, why did you come?” She spread a hand against the soft, dark hairs dusting his now completely bare chest. Mortals were pleasing, in a comforting, physical sense. The fae she’d been with, they were experienced and powerful in their immortality, but they lacked something they could never regain through eternity—a desire to truly live in the moment.

It took a few seconds for his heart to pick up under her palm. His eyes trailed down from her face, taking in the curves at the low cut of her gown before returning to the exposed flesh of her legs. “I could show you instead,” he countered, his hand finding where his stare loitered, taking a new path than before, right between her thighs.

To Runa, this was nothing more than a way to rid herself of a week’s worth of pent-up animosity. And what better way to do that than spending a few heated moments with a stranger? He was the perfect escape, because no one would believe a servant halfling over a princess, should he utter a word of this. It would be a waste of breath to ask him not to. Male pride was incorrigible.

She smiled as his hand traveled higher, the other seizing the curve of her rear. “Good. I was getting tired of chatting.” Adjusting her hips in a way that allowed him better access, she angled to bring her lips to his. The liquid heat that pounded from her chest to her core was like adrenaline in her blood. And the taste of him... like honeyed berries—delectable.

Runa tore from the too-short kiss when his fingers slipped past her undergarment and into the slick flesh beneath. She shuddered at the initial impact of his fingers, her hips writhing, searching for more. It didn’t take him long to claim the bundle of nerves at her center, starting with slow, languid strokes.

“Do you always get this wet for a mortal?” His voice was a snarky rasp against her neck as he continued to frisk along her center.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” she panted out. Despite her snide remark, he still gave her what she desperately craved, his thumb pressing tight circles into the blissful knot, and it was all she could do to keep air flowing into her lungs.

“There’s no shame in craving something warmer than your own kind,” he murmured, pulling a sharp gasp from her lips when two fingers dipped inside of her.

What a smug little shit, she mused, wondering how it was possible to consistently pick the same type of male. It truly was a gift.

A flick of her hand in the direction of the fireplace, and it erupted into a roaring burst of flame. His head snapped in the direction of the boom, and those wicked pumps came to a halt.

Seizing his cheeks between the tight hold of her fingers, she jerked his attention back to her. “I don’t need you to keep me warm, pet. I can get the job done just as easily myself,” she hissed against his lips, though it wasn’t quite the truth. Because this was far more enjoyable than any pleasure she could conjure on her own. “Do you understand, halfling?”

He didn’t say a word, didn’t have to. His glare said it all, right before he plunged those fingers back in, his palm colliding with the sensitive bundle at her core, sending a bolt of lightning through her blood. He brought his lips back to her neck as she ground against his hand, lowering her own hand to the outline of his cock, which was taut beneath the seam of his trousers.

A hushed groan trickled from his lips, and with the tight squeeze of his hand around her ass, her restraint snapped completely. Runa fumbled for the buttons of his pants as he continued every vengeful thrust—sucking in the flesh at her neck, branding her in a different way than that of a fae.

But just when she’d made it through half of his buttons, a shrill scream sounded from the library doors.

“Hey!” the voice called, causing both of them to jump in reaction.

Immediately, he slid out of her, his other hand withdrawing from her rear. Runa barely had time to push away from the male before the figure began approaching.

“Get away from her, you—oh…” A prim fae girl with wide brown eyes stared in complete horror as she looked upon them, appearing as if she had only just now figured out what she’d walked into, her eyes falling to the gleaming flesh of the male’s hand.

It was Lady Windspire, and she definitely recognized Runa.

“I am so sorry, I thought…” Lady Windspire, now a flustered wreck, spun away, her gait morphing into a brisk stride as she booked it for the doors.

“Wait!” Runa called, quickly realizing her skirts were still shoved all the way up to her ass. “ Fuck ,” she snarled, ripping her dress out of the way to jump back onto her feet again.

Lady Windspire, in fact, did not wait.

The male, who was struggling to button his pants back up, made to follow her, but she whirled on him. “What do you think you’re doing?” she snapped.

His shoulders shrugged as he finished up the last button. “Leaving?”

“Don’t follow me out! At least wait a few minutes so we’re not seen together.”

He snorted a laugh. “I think it’s a little too late for that, princess.”

She didn’t even bother with a reply. It was clear he was too much of an idiot to understand why more people seeing them together would be bad. Without giving him a second more of her time, Runa rushed out.

“Windspire!” she whispered harshly after rounding the corner to the east corridor. While the girl glanced over her shoulder, she looked as if she were considering making a run for it, so Runa sped up.

After the third time Runa called her name, she gave up on escape and turned to face her. “Your Highness, I am so—”

“Shut it,” Runa cut her off. “Do you always barge in on others like that?” Never mind that it was a public space, that didn’t really matter right now. Not when she could have just as easily walked away. What was in the library that was so damn important?

“I thought…” Lady Windspire sighed, refusing to meet her eyes. “I thought he was biting you.”

Runa’s lips twitched, but she chewed the inside of her cheek to hold back a grin as she recalled the frantic way Lady Windspire had charged in. She thought Runa was in danger? How adorable.

“But he was a halfling, so obviously that wasn’t the case.”

“Obviously,” Runa repeated the word with a sarcastic snicker. There were a few more signs that should have been enough to indicate she was not in distress, but something told her it was a lack of experience that was to blame for the girl’s ignorance.

“I won’t say anything, I swear,” Lady Windspire began, cringing slightly as she lifted her hands up in a defensive motion. “Not that you were doing anything wrong, I just assume you wouldn’t want me to mention it. And really, I’m not sure how I would even bring up such a thing...”

Runa pinched the bridge of her nose between two fingers as she waited for her rambling to end.

“To be honest, I don’t really feel comfortable approaching your father or brother with something like—”

“Can you keep your voice down?” Runa growled, glancing around to see if anyone could have overheard. There was no one that her eyes could see, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t a fae close enough to pick up on it with their hearing. At least the male had done as she asked and stayed back.

“Thanks. For not saying anything.” She forced the kind words out, though they didn’t sound half as kind aloud as they did in her head. But if Lucius were to find out...

She and Fynn’s twenty-first birthday was approaching, and since Runa remained mortal still, she wasn’t supposed to be fraternizing to any degree—another restriction placed upon females, as getting pregnant before the change would cause complications for the baby and the mother. It even stopped the transition, if it wasn’t complete by the time of conception.

Lady Windspire nodded, peering down at her clasped hands with a somber pout, which actually made Runa feel a little guilty for being so rude.

Runa rolled her eyes, gesturing for the two of them to start making their way out of the eastern halls. Lady Windspire quietly fell in step beside her, and she swore the nagging silence was almost worse than her incessant chatter. “So why were you in the library so late?”

It was a weak attempt at making conversation, especially after she’d found Runa with a male’s fingers inside of her only minutes ago. Her blood had cooled since then, turning that sweltering haze of lust into a frigid spite. Runa acknowledged just how idiotic her actions were tonight. In a library, for fuck’s sake—with a halfling. Was she that desperate?

Lady Windspire’s bell of a voice pulled her from her untempered brooding. “I was looking for Suri. She wasn’t in her room, so I figured she’d be in the library.”

As if she would know who the hell that was. “Suri?”

“Princess Surina,” she amended.

Runa had almost forgotten the two were friends. No wonder Fynn approached Lady Windspire—because she was likely close with the princess. Runa had never seen him go through such lengths over a girl, even with daughters of Calaechian nobles—though he never really had to try with them. Their lives were so shallow, they practically threw themselves at him for the chance of carrying a royal brood.

How depressing that their immortality would be spent in such a way. Exactly how she would be expected to live.

“She’s probably with the Nightwood king,” Runa grumbled, recalling King Cyril’s demands at breakfast.

Her face scrunched together. “King Ezra? Why? They barely even talk to each other anymore.”

“How should I know? I’m not her keeper.” Runa’s voice was like ice when it came out, and they went right back to that same heavy silence.

Nothing? Not a single snappy remark? The Fairlight princess was far more fun to antagonize. Quick to fluster and run away, the same way she had at dinner the first night—Surina and her brother were a sorry excuse for being the last of their lineage. So unlike the remaining two Nightwoods.

Runa had heard some pretty despicable things about their line that would make one’s skin crawl. Enough to make her grandfather look like a saint. No one crossed them, and if they did... well, there was a dead dragon king that proved just how ruthless a Nightwood could be.

Spotting the hall that split off towards her room, Runa slowed, peering down it to find that there were two faces staring back. The two guards outside of her room. Goddess, they were creepy.

“I was going to grab something to eat before heading back to my room.” Lady Windspire spoke softly from over her shoulder, seeming to pick up on Runa’s hesitation. “Are you hungry, Your Highness?”

She looked away from the dimly lit hall and to the unease now caking the girl’s face. “Are you inviting me to dine with you?”

“I was planning on going after the library anyway...” Her voice trailed off after the mention of the library, and she awkwardly shifted her attention elsewhere. “It’s kind of a far walk to the west side of the keep, though, so I understand if you don’t want to.”

“I suppose I am a little hungry.” Runa sighed, attempting to keep her voice neutral, though she was absolutely grateful for any reason to keep her from her room. From being alone.

With a pleased nod from Lady Windspire, they started for the dining hall, and Runa couldn’t help but think this was an act of pity. Or perhaps it was some political duty of a duke’s daughter. Either way, she didn’t deserve any form of kindness, feigned or not. But Lady Windspire offered it anyway, despite Runa’s cruelty towards her tonight.

It was probably best not to bite the hand that fed you, and after her promise not to speak a word of it, the least Runa could do was sit through one meal with the girl.