Soul of Ice (Chronicles of Dawn)

Chapter Seventeen

Ezra escorted Surina as far as the dining hall doors, stamping a quick kiss to her temple before parting ways. Though she was a little saddened to see him go, he needed to change out of his clothes from the night prior, and she wasn’t ready to sit through a meal with her brother and Ezra. She doubted Cyril invited him anyway.

Walking into the hall, Surina disregarded the stares of those she passed—were they staring because of her choice of attire, or was it those whispers Ezra mentioned? She wasn’t really sure what to expect from her brother’s temper this morning, but where she assumed there’d be a pink flush of irritation due to her tardiness, there was only a wide-eyed sorrow when she made it to the table.

Cyril, standing abruptly from his spot, looked surprised to see her. “Suri, we didn’t think you’d come.”

“Ezra said you wanted me here.” She glanced between her brother and Dahlia, her gaze falling to the plates full of eggs and potatoes placed before them. Her stomach growled at the sight.

Taking note of her stares, and the grumbling, Cyril slid his plate over to her side of the table—they hadn’t even touched their food. Probably because Surina wasn’t there. They only ate it to make her feel more at ease anyway, or if there were other mortals dining with them.

“I wanted to see you before court, but if you’re not up to it, then I won’t keep you here. How are you feeling though?”

Why is that all anyone asked her? What kind of question was that anyway? How else would she feel after seeing two dead bodies in less than a week with the murderer still on the loose? She was afraid—terrified. She couldn’t sleep, any creak or shuffle would wake her, and even in her dreams she couldn’t escape this suffocating darkness that lurked around every corner of her mind. The burnt orange and yellow eyes of the creature who followed her into sleep. The shadows that consumed her…

“Fine,” she muttered, taking her seat and not wasting any time digging into the eggs.

Dahlia didn’t seem to believe her, glassy blue irises reflecting the concern in her voice. “We’ll find who did this, Suri, and when we do, it will be the sword for them.”

“Dahlia,” Cyril cautioned, peering around to make sure no one else would have heard that. “We’re at breakfast.” He summoned an invisible sphere of air around their table. A gift he’d always had to prevent sound from escaping. Something he’d learned from their mother. Which he only ever used when there was a private discussion incoming.

Dismissing his warning, Dahlia straightened her spine. “They killed a child , Cyril. In our own home. If you would just let my father search the Calaechian’s rooms, then—”

“That’s enough,” Cyril grit through his teeth.

Surina finished swallowing her bite, angling forward in her chair. “You think it was them? Why?” She couldn’t imagine how the twins would have gotten away with something like that, but Lucius ? That guy was a snake.

Dahlia started to reply, and Cyril swept in to cut her off. “There is no proof that they have anything to do with either death.” He turned his head to Surina. “Do not repeat any of this, do you understand?”

Surina nodded, while Dahlia bore holes into the side of Cyril’s face. She knew that look—this wasn’t the end of that conversation.

“But, Suri…” Cyril smoothed a hand around her own. He was cold, like all fae, though Ezra always seemed colder. He never had a perfect seal on his affinities. Whether that was the chilling air that accompanied him, or the drifting fog from his flesh, Ezra was always, in some way, expending magic. “I owe you an apology for last night,” her brother continued grimly.

“What?” She was dumbfounded—was he apologizing for sending her to dinner with Ezra? So he really did know.

He nodded. “Ezra gave me his word there was nothing of importance to be placed in front of him that evening. If I had known he didn’t have control over his own court, I would never have sent you there. I’m sorry for what he put you through.”

She pulled her hand out from under her brother’s, feeling a little guilty for finding relief in his choice of conversation. Based on how he spoke of the activity in Ezra’s court, though, she gathered Cyril was aware of it the whole time, and how barbaric their idea of justice was. “He didn’t know what Lord Redbane was planning,” she murmured, twisting the fork in her hand.

Cyril’s jaw ticked. “Regardless, I won’t trust his word again. Not when it comes to you. But as for Lord Pembrooke—”

Her head snapped up with his name. “Is he okay?”

“Thanks to you.” A flash of something that looked like pride washed his features—Surina rarely received anything that wasn’t a red-faced glare from her brother, at least not in the past few years. “He and his family are leaving court to return to their home in Montrove for a while, until this all cools over. The Court of the Sun owes you their gratitude— I owe you my gratitude.”

Surina began to shove food around her plate, unsure of how to handle such a somber compliment. “It wasn’t right. I was only doing what anyone else would have.”

“Out of everyone in that vile court, how many stood with you?” He paused to wait for a reply, evidently already knowing the answer when she didn’t give him one. “Exactly. They’re serpents, Surina. Every last one of them. They have no compassion. Not anymore.”

He always spoke of the fae in the Court of the Sun as if they were immune to such a fate. She prayed the divines took her before then, but it was only a matter of time. For all of them.

Her fingers wound around the silver handle of the fork, until the pop of her knuckles begged her to relax. “If you know what goes on, why do you allow it to happen?”

He lifted his chin to her question. “Maybe that’s something you should ask Ezra.”

She didn’t need to. He’d already explained his reasoning, and while that didn’t exactly excuse the atrocities that went on under his nose—sometimes even with his approval—Ezra at least had the spine to take accountability for it, whereas Cyril, he seemed content with keeping the blame solely on his royal counterpart.

“Maybe I will.” She shrugged, stabbing the fork into a chunk of potato far too aggressively. The china clanked against the force. “At dinner tonight.”

That got his attention.

“I’m sorry?” Cyril’s brows knitted together, as if he hadn’t heard her properly.

“I’m to have dinner with Ezra again. Tonight.” She repeated her words, sliding the bite onto her tongue before her mouth curved into a tight-lipped smile.

“He didn’t ask me.”

“Does he need your permission?” Surina’s words were muffled as she chewed through the bite. She wasn’t even hungry anymore, her appetite long gone, but she wanted to appear unbothered, even though her blood was racing beneath. “He’s my king, isn’t he? At least that’s what you told me yesterday, so I imagine that still holds true today?”

He snorted a sarcastic laugh, making her wonder if she was getting to him as much as she thought. “So my men were right about what they saw.”

She frowned at that. What did they see?

“I didn’t want to believe what others were saying at first, but I could smell it on you when you walked in. I should fucking kill him.” A sharp wind cut across the table, shifting the dishes and silverware.

Dahlia tensed at his side, placing her hand atop Cyril’s fist. “Darling,” she warned in a timid chime.

“What are you talking about? Smell what?” Surina’s feigned indifference leaked through the cracks within a matter of seconds.

“You’d really have me say it?” Those deep green eyes pinned her in place, and for a moment, all she could see were the eyes of her father. In some ways, she supposed Cyril had assumed that vacancy.

She was speechless, dropping the fork to pull her hands into her lap. As if hiding the flush of her hands would make her any less guilty. Her face would say it all anyway—her heart. And apparently her smell.

Cyril’s tone softened for a moment. “If he’s forced you into this, I need to know.”

Her jaw dropped open then, and that vehement need to defend Ezra returned. “He hasn’t forced me to do anything,” she growled, her flesh igniting like a raging fire. “Gods, you really hate him, don’t you?” Before, she acknowledged that her brother didn’t like Ezra. Now she could see there was something else. Something that went beyond the king’s handling of the Court of the Moon.

“You don’t know the things he’s done, Surina. You know nothing about him.” Every word was laced with utter disdain.

He was the one who sent her to have dinner with Ezra, and now he wanted to lecture her on how they spent that time together?

Fuck . That .

“He only killed his father to save the girl he loved—something you conveniently forgot to mention.” She didn’t filter any bit of what crossed her mind, and already she seemed to have struck a nerve. Surina kept going though, a sharp trickle of energy grazing her flesh as a whip of wind tossed through them, causing the barrier of sound to flicker—whether that was from her brother or herself, she didn’t know. “How could you fault him for protecting someone he loved? Would you not do the same for Dahlia?”

Cyril slammed his hand on the table. It rocked with the impact, rattling the china and silverware. Her mouth clicked shut. “Don’t ever compare my love for Dahlia with whatever twisted manipulation that bastard put her through.”

“ Cyril .” Dahlia silenced him with a fierce warning, her eyes saying more than words ever could.

Did he mean the girl Ezra loved? Had Cyril known her?

Seeming to realize how his words stung, Cyril released an audible breath—something Surina did when she attempted to rein in her own temper at times. “I’m sorry, Surina. You’re my sister, and I’m not judging what you’ve done, I only want you to know the truth about Ezra before you do anything you regret.”

“What truth ?” She imagined it was quite the story, based on his reaction. She wouldn’t pretend to know everything about Ezra. He’d lived for centuries, after all, and it would take time for her to learn of his past.

Cyril opened his mouth to say more, but Dahlia shushed him almost immediately. “It’s not our story to tell, Suri. You need to hear it from Ezra.”

Her brother seemed to have something to say about that when the doors parted to allow that very king through.

Surina rose with Ezra’s return. “I’m going to be late for training, so if that’s all…”

Cyril drew his glare from Ezra to look at her, where it softened. But it was a little too late for that. “You’ve hardly eaten anything, Suri. At least finish your eggs.”

She plucked a muffin from a side dish, waving it around before offering a curt bow to her brother, not even waiting for a formal dismissal.

Ezra clearly noticed the shifting mood of the room, pausing halfway between the doors and their table to wait for Surina, all the while offering her brother a scowl of pure loathing.

Seriously, how had she never noticed their hatred for one another? Maybe it was like estranged parents, where they pretended to get along for the child’s sake.

As she neared, she noticed how well he’d cleaned up in such a short amount of time. Freshly washed hair brushed from his face—only a few damp strands fell against his forehead. He’d changed into a new set of clothes similar to what he was wearing before, though this blouse was of a deep blue. Draped over his arm was a fine cloak of velvet, roughly the same color as his blouse.

“What did he say to you?” Ezra whispered into her ear when he turned to walk alongside her. His body and voice were strained, like he was seconds from getting the answer from Cyril himself.

She shook her head, intent on adding more space between the two kings before she’d even consider telling him. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does,” he muttered.

In her periphery, he was studying her, and whatever he read in her features pissed him off a great deal.

The air grew frigid as they left the dining hall. “I’ll talk to him after your training,” he said dryly.

Her head snapped to the side to find his narrowed eyes glazed over with a cool resentment. “I don’t want you to talk to him.”

“And I don’t want him speaking to you like this anymore, so I guess you’ll just have to accept my interference from now on.”

“You’ve never interfered before.” Honestly, there wasn’t much to interfere with . Surina and Cyril both had their father’s temper. Sometimes it came out at the worst times, and usually at the same time.

“It’s different now.”

“Why? Because of a kiss ?” Even she didn’t believe that’s all it was when she said it, so why would she expect Ezra to when he inevitably glanced over at her?

“It’s more than that. You feel it as much as I do.”

“You have no idea what I’m feeling,” she returned.

Air blew out of his nostrils. “ Please , I can read you like a book,” he said coolly, now toying with the braid along her back.

That helped ease the tension in her shoulders a bit, to know that he was able to make light of this new... situation. A smile played at her lips, but she didn’t want him thinking he really did know her that well, so she jammed an elbow into his side to get him to back off.

He exhaled with the sudden hit, dropping her braid.

“Didn’t read that , did you?” Her smile went wide as he rubbed at the site of impact.

“Vicious little creature,” he purred, curling a hand around her arm to stop her just before the doors leading to the keep grounds.

“What are you—”

He slung the cloak he’d been carrying around her shoulders, fingers taking their time as they connected the clasp at her collarbone. “It’s freezing out today, and you didn’t bring anything warm.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m not a doll, Ezra. I don’t need you to dress me.” Never mind she let him do exactly that, last night, and he more than showed his gratitude.

“So when a prince offers you one, you think its gallant, but when I do it, I’m overstepping?”

“Maybe because he was sweet about it and didn’t shove me into it.” Surina moved to swat away his roaming touch at her throat.

He snagged her wrist before she could attempt it. “You like when I tell you what to do, simply because it gives you the chance to argue until you get your way.”

Through no control of her own, her features squinted into a scowl as she tried to piece his logic together. “So you’re saying I want you to tell me what to do, so that I can argue to get my way? Sounds like a lot of extra steps when I could have my way from the beginning.”

A wry grin curled his lips up. “You know what I think the problem is?”

Her brows lifted, daring him to say something that warranted another elbow.

“You don’t actually know what you want. You’re impulsive in your curiosity, but the moment that curiosity spurns you, you run right back to what’s familiar—to what’s comfortable.” Lightly dragging his fingers across her collarbone, he leaned in. “You long for adventure, but only if it’s safe.”

“That just sounds like common sense to me.” Her voice was a shaky rasp, though she was confident in her desire to see a world outside of this keep. All that stood between her now was her Awakening. Once she transitioned, her mortality would no longer restrict her to the security of the palace. Upon the change, she would have eternal life, strength, power—she would have her freedom.

Disregarding her comment, his head cocked to the side. “You want to be in control, but you’re all chaos, Surina. You can’t have everything. Not in this realm.”

She wanted to ask what other realm could possibly offer such a thing if not their own, but her mind was already made up—she didn’t need everything. All she really needed was the life that had been stolen from her by the dragons, and the ability to live it the way she chose—with whom she chose. “Then I guess I’ll just have to settle for almost everything,” she said at last.

“I think I can manage almost everything.” Ezra grinned, drawing her in by her wrist so her chest was level with his abdominals, and she had to angle her head up to even look into his eyes. “And if you think you’re off the hook for that nasty little hit, just you wait.”

That vow sent a web of frightening delight through her blood. Even with the warmth of the cloak, his chilling promise crept into her heart as she imagined all sorts of ways he could get back at her for the elbow—there was something seriously wrong with her.

Ezra slipped a finger under her chin, gently pulling her towards that unholy smile, and right into his wintry kiss.

It almost made her forget about Cyril’s warning, but not quite. She wanted to, but it ate at her mind like no other, as if she was waiting for something to come along to make her doubt him.