Soul of Ice (Chronicles of Dawn)

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Surina’s back arched in a nauseating recoil as the tips of his teeth pressed into the meat between her shoulder and throat—but that’s all they did… scraping over her bounding pulse.

Then, only the soft drag of his lips followed, along with a merciful kiss.

Air pooled in her lungs, and she practically fell into his chest when she registered that his teeth had never pierced the surface of her skin.

“You didn’t bite me,” she choked out, still trying to calm the haphazard thrum of her heart, and the quick buildup of tears that stung her eyes.

He pulled away so their stares were level. “Now you see why I won’t. Don’t ask this of me again, do you understand?”

Still stricken by the revelation, she nodded her slow compliance, looking back at his teeth. “They’re…”

“A perverse mockery of nature. I know.” The lighthearted Ezra from earlier was long gone, fading into nothing as the prison of ice crumpled to pieces, sloshing the surface.

That snapped her out of the appalling stupor. When she lifted a numb hand to his teeth, Ezra flinched— flinched —but eventually gave his tentative approval by opening his mouth wider.

His eyes never left her as she ran a finger along the length of a fang, a shudder rolling through her bare body when their lethality became apparent.

Fae were terrifying—cursed to kill. But then again, she already knew that. So why did this feel different? Darker?

“They’re long.” Raking the pad of her finger across the underside of a tooth, she wondered how they fit in his mouth without stabbing himself. “Do they retract?” They must, if he’d kept them hidden from her this entire time.

“You amaze me,” he huffed out, slightly exasperated. “Leave it to you to be worried about the functionality of a curse.”

After a long moment of her continued stares, he gave in, offering an answer to her inquiries, but not without a gruff sigh.

“Yes, they retract.” A wet flick sounded, and they were a normal size again.

She gasped, a smile forming and disappearing in mere seconds. It was impossible to decide how to feel. “How have I never seen them before?”

“We’ve become adept at hiding just about everything. There’s much you don’t know of changed fae. Much more you’ll learn when you transition.”

“Well, I want to know now. Why even keep all of this from mortal fae when they’ll be like you eventually?”

“Because you’re exactly that. Mortal. Your wants and desires are different. Human. Until you change, you won’t understand the natural order. Instincts will arise that force you to divide yourself from humanity.”

Like a crazed need for blood . Even old fae, who had a better grasp on their hunger, needed to feed regularly. Once a week seemed to be the typical schedule. At least that’s what she’d picked up on from studying Livia’s recurring feeder marks.

What about the Court of the Sun, though? And the fae who were welcomed into the lives of humans? There was no division in her brother’s court. They were all on equal standing. Humans trusted the Fairlight name, and the protection that came with it.

The chatter of her teeth started to pick up when chunks of ice gathered around her shoulders, stinging her flesh.

He nodded towards land. “Let’s get you out before you freeze to death.”

Countering his attempt at silencing more of her questions, she brushed off his guiding hands. “How long can your fangs get?”

He cringed, brows pinching together like he was in pain.

She ran a hand over his arm. “What is it?”

“To call them fangs is an insult. A slur.”

Lifting her hand from him, she curled her arms around herself, using the root beneath her toes to keep her up. “Sorry,” she mumbled quietly, jerking her head away from where his fangs— teeth —no longer protruded past his lips.

“You don’t need to apologize. And I think it goes without saying, but you can’t speak of this. Not to anyone. Fae or mortal.”

“Naturally.” Just another secret to add to her ever-growing list. Multiple affinities, hearing voices in her head, stealing power from the elements— oh , and how could she forget, bringing a stick to life?

He studied her from the side with a somber uncertainty. “You have more questions.”

She nodded, though the guilty grin curving her lips probably gave her away first.

He cracked a smile, holding out a hand to pull her through the water. “Clothes first, then questions. If we’re to make it to the next village before the sun sets, we need to leave soon. And you still have gifts to open.”

Him giving her free rein to ask whatever she wanted was the sexiest thing she’d ever heard leave his lips.

Once they were out — and she got a great look at the sculpted cut of his ass—he helped her back into her dress. Opting to refrain from putting the cloak back on, she took a seat on his makeshift blanket, where two boxes waited.

“Okay. Back to the questions.”

“Naturally,” he chided, plopping the first box into her lap. The one with the shimmering satin wrapping that Cyril had handed her this morning.

“Do they just come out at random times? Can you control them?”

“We can control it, to an extent. They tend to come out when we’re hungry, pissed off, or…” Ezra’s words trailed away as he landed on her curious stare.

She raised an inquisitive brow.

“Aroused,” he murmured, with a twinkle in his eye.

“But…” She floundered for words, wondering how she could have possibly missed that.

Him pulling away when she’d wandered too far with her tongue, catching the snag of his teeth on her lips. And the way he forced her face away from him as he tasted her blood. He was hiding his teeth from her.

“It’s easy enough to keep secrets when mortals aren’t allowed out past sunlight. Feeders know, obviously, but they’re selected because of their loyalty to the fae—sometimes that loyalty comes from the addictive effects of the bite, but also because they know what happens when they share any knowledge they gain when giving blood.” Ezra raked his fingers through the tousled strands of his hair as he avoided her gaze. “With you, though, I didn’t care so much about the knowledge being forbidden, I just couldn’t give you another reason to hate me.”

That admission struck her heart in a painful way. For someone who had killed more than she could possibly fathom—who wouldn’t hesitate to kill more, if it suited his needs—he actually worried about what Surina thought of him. In the moment, though, she didn’t care about his deadly past. She didn’t even care about his history with her family.

“It isn’t what I’ve learned of you that scares me, Ezra. It’s everything I don’t know.”

Now, he looked at her with a notable surprise, only briefly, before his features smoothed over with a cool calm. Rattling the box in her lap, he brought her attention back down to the present. “How much longer are you going to make me wait?”

Putting on a big smile as she pulled at the fabric, Surina let the light material collect in the palm Ezra held out.

When she tossed the top to the side, her smile immediately faltered. She carefully ran her hand down a steel blade, until it met the sun-carved hilt at the end.

There was no mistaking it for anything but the blade from her dream. The one she used to open herself up with before placing it on the creature of flame.

Tearing her hand from the freezing metal, a warm wash of summery heat consumed her blood in a strange wave. The rays from the sun were unforgiving today...

“If you don’t like it, don’t blame Cyril too much. We both agreed it would be a good idea for you to have one. Galen thought so too.” Ezra shook his head. “He wouldn’t take no for an answer, actually. Pushy bastard.”

If not for the lingering drag of a shaded tickle across her mind, Surina would have laughed at Galen’s endeavor to arm her. He’d only brought it up to Cyril every year for the past decade.

With a sigh, he took the dagger in hand. “I can show you a bit of the basics before I have to return to New Sanctuary, but I’m sure the Castmonts will be more than accommodating by indulging you with a new hobby.”

The thought of Ezra leaving her behind to return to the capital was difficult to push past, but it was inevitable. She couldn’t return to the palace with open threats on her life, and Ezra had to return to his court. There was only so much time he could sacrifice for her, and to be honest, this already felt like more than she deserved.

Not letting the future ruin what was right in front of her now, a ridiculing grin tipped the corner of her mouth up. “ You ’ re going to teach me how to use it? This is the first time I’ve ever even seen you hold a weapon.”

Ezra’s mouth fell open, and he let her snatch the blade back. “I don’t know if I should be offended that you think I can’t use one, or flattered because you know I don’t need it.” He leaned away, reclining on his elbows while nudging her with an outstretched leg.

Bringing the dagger in for further inspection, she twirled it by the hilt, studying the strange inscription along the blade. “What are these pictures carved into it?”

Leaning over her shoulder, he eyed what she spoke of. “They’re words. An archaic form of Old Fae. One that hasn’t existed since the First Age. These, combined, would mean something like, dawn will come .”

Running her fingers over the first symbol, a setting sun—or rising, depending on how you looked at it—she glanced back up at him. “How do you know that if the language hasn’t existed for thousands of years?”

Initially hesitant in his reply, she understood his reluctance when he eventually spoke up. “Liliana kept many tomes that were otherwise lost or destroyed in the war. She was very traditional when it came to my education as a boy.”

A silence lay between them with the mention of his aunt. Surina wondered if Liliana knew of her lady’s demise yet, or was it something Ezra managed to bury? Either way, she didn’t want to dwell on it now.

“Well… it’s lovely. The meaning of the words and the dagger. It kind of reminds me of Galen’s sword. Apart from the pommel.” Honestly, it was eerily similar. His also had markings etched into them, though Galen didn’t know the meaning of them.

“It should. They were forged together.”

Her head swung up so fast, she almost gave herself whiplash. “Were they really?”

Rolling his head back to let the sun soak his exposed skin, he gave a muffled, thought-filled hum. “Yes. They’ve been passed on from Fairlight to Fairlight for centuries. Same as your necklace. All Fairlight heirlooms.”

The necklace. Her hand went right to it. “But I thought this was my mother’s necklace?”

Ezra opened an eye to study her. “She wore it last, yes, but it was Casimir’s before he gave it to Sienna. He said it protects the wearer.”

If that were true, her mother would still be alive.

“Shouldn’t Cyril have it then? He’s the last living Fairlight male and the king. If anyone needs protection, it’s him.” Females in fae culture often kept their surname, even after marriage, but Surina couldn’t pass on the Fairlight name, not to any of her children. Because surnames came from the father’s side.

She was a Fairlight, though, and always would be.

“Cyril wouldn’t wear it half as well as you do,” he teased with a wink. “Besides, I think it helps him sleep better at night to know you have it. Can’t say I disagree.”

Placing the crescent in the center of her palm, she glared into the silvery metal, wondering if she stared at it long enough, would it pulse to life as it had last night? Nothing happened though.

Come to think of it, there hadn’t been a hint of an aura since they left this morning. No creepy voices or chilling whispers. Not even the gentle breeze of the other one seemed concerned enough to check in on her.

Another box was dropped into her lap.

She looked between the box and Ezra’s eager gaze, guessing that this was his gift to her. He rarely, if ever, showed any amount of enthusiasm for gift-giving. It was a little suspicious that he was now.

“If this is something lewd, it’s going in the water.”

Ezra rolled his eyes. “Just open it.”

She did, ripping apart the plum-tinted wrapping. Peering in, she couldn’t immediately discern what it was.

Black leather straps embellished with silver-threaded flowers and vines swirling along the dark material, the design similar to the dress he’d given her for their dinner.

What a bittersweet night that turned out to be.

When she lifted it up, she noted the sheath attached.

“For the dagger.” He answered her question before it came out.

Both gifts were stunning, the craftsmanship of the leather and the dagger were expertly done. Not that craftsmanship mattered much when it came to stabbing someone, but at least she would look great while doing it—if there was ever a time she’d have to.

Hopefully not.

Surina spread the straps out to get a better look, spotting silver clasps that shimmered alongside the silver threading. “While it’s extraordinary, I’m not sure if it will fit my waist.”

Apparently, that warranted another eye roll, and he stole the leather from her hands, dragging the hem of her skirts up in the same motion.

“That’s because it doesn’t go on your waist, pretty little thing.” Ezra laid the straps over the thickest part of her thigh.

The way his fingers made quick work around her leg, she fell under a silent spell, following the hard muscles pulsing in his hand and through the thin ivory fabric of his shirt, dangerously close to where his lips had been earlier.

She struggled to fight her body’s innate reaction to his nearness. Her fingers twitched, begging to be dragged through the silken strands of his hair.

“Are you listening?” He’d apparently stopped at some point and was staring at her.

Surina nodded, chewing on her bottom lip to counter the hideous flush.

Fastening the last of the clasps, he continued. “As I was saying, try not to strap it too tight, but snug enough that it won’t shift when you move.”

“Right.” She reached for the dagger, attempting and failing to sheath it multiple times.

Ezra plucked it from her hand, sheathing it with one quick swipe.

“It’s the angle, I think.” A sorry excuse for her lack of experience, but he didn’t seem to hear it, or even really notice anything apart from the strain of leather against her thigh.

“Hey!” she barked, reining him in. “Keep it up, and you’ll be my first victim.”

“I don’t think you understand how much of a turn-on that is.” His lashes lowered to veil much of his irises.

Surina frowned at that. “You’re disgusting.”

“Your mind is just as filthy.” Leaping from the ground faster than her vision could follow, Ezra stretched a hand down.

Taking it, she let him pull her to her feet. “Doubtful.”

“Your choice of reading material says otherwise.”

They shared a few mingling breaths, their mouths inches apart as they stared into one another’s eyes.

Her gaze dropped to the slight curve of his lips while her mind brought her back to moments ago, when he had her desperate and pleading for more.

Clearing her throat, she created some distance before she let that wash of heat take control again. “Wasn’t there another box?”

“Only the two,” he returned, following her lead on the subject change by fastening the ties of his leather jerkin.

“I could have sworn there was another.” Sucking on her teeth, she kicked around the area to see if it just disappeared in the length of the grass.

“Exactly what a girl who was given everything as a child would say.” Ezra clicked his tongue, grabbing both cloaks from the ground. “I told Cyril that spoiling you would only result in an ungrateful little—”

At the quick jerk of her elbow, he choked on his words. Surina bit down a snicker, but not the cruel grin following her hit.

That victory didn’t last long.

“Shall we start your weaponry lessons now then?” The insidious creep of his voice was at odds with the casual way he tossed their cloaks over his shoulder. “Lesson number one. Never sheathe your weapon when you’re alone with a fae.”

Her steps slowed, and when she glanced to where he stood in an eerie pause, her face fell.

Run , he mouthed with a twisted grin, the slick whip of his fangs dropping from his gums making her spine tingle.

To her surprise, her legs listened, though they didn’t even get her to the edge of the gardens before she was ripped up from the ground and hauled over his shoulder like another cloak.

A cry of laughter burst from her, and he spun her around until her giggling ceased. The whirl of her vision wouldn’t relent, not as he carried her past the garden’s floral walls, and back up the wooded path.

Every returned breath only brought them closer to the end of that enchanted day. Having been too elated to care about the marks on her throat and cheek, Surina strolled past the awaiting soldiers and servants without a second thought. Nothing could combat the flutter in her chest though. Not even the narrow-eyed glowering of the human who opened the carriage door for them upon their return.