Soul of Ice (Chronicles of Dawn)

Chapter Thirty-Three

Trailing her fingers along the gray stone of the keep, Surina slowed her pace to take in every hanging oil portrait of the Castmont line. Castmont blood was definitely powerful, the majority of their family with the usual strawberry-blond hair and bright blue eyes. Even generations before the current.

Galen was probably the only outlier, with dark brown hair—possibly from his father’s side, though no one knew who that male was.

Still not used to the void Galen’s absence left behind, Surina found herself turning around frequently, expecting to find the old grump standing off to the side. She never realized how comforting it was to hear the echoes of his armor and sword clattering right on her trail—now it was just the soft clicks of her own shoes.

Upon their arrival, Kian said she wouldn’t need a guard here since the outside perimeter of the estate was teeming with soldiers, so she took him up on that offer, despite Ezra’s complaints. That being said, the king still added a list of demands before leaving her to her own devices for the day. One of those demands being food. He made her return to bed until she’d finished a massive breakfast spread that could have fed an entire family.

You need to replenish the blood you lost, he insisted, over and over. She’d finally had enough of the griping and just shoveled it all down, lying in bed for another hour until the urge to throw it up passed.

Afterwards, she made her way to the library, where the familiar smell of aged leather brought a particularly ecstatic grin forth. Training in hand-to-hand combat was nothing compared to the excitement of exploring a brand-new library—well, new to her .

She scratched at her gown’s neckline, splaying the dragon-scaled text out on a nearby table. The dress wasn’t her usual wear, but it was one Ezra approved of. Not that he’d ever disapproved of anything she wore.

The neckline partially shrouded her throat with a hazy, purple lace. It was a little itchy, but the cut-out on her chest won her over, as it left a little window for her necklace.

“Time to get to work,” she grumbled to herself, eyeing the high rise of the library shelves. While not as magnificent as the one in the palace, it would likely have older works than the one from home, since Castmont Keep existed well before the capital. Though, at the time of its construction, the garrison was all that existed, as a fortress to house the forces fighting on behalf of the divines during the Second Age War.

So, while she was in the library, Ezra was off inspecting the security of the keep— and scouring the archives of the garrison in search of any battle logs that might mention the wards or anyone traveling beyond them.

Spending nearly two hours sorting through rows and rows of texts, she spent almost double that time just skimming through each selection, hunting for a single mention of Myrah draug or anything regarding the Awakening’s true meaning.

The most interesting find was a journal written by a human, who apparently made it her life’s mission to search for and record the most outlandish variations in magic techniques.

Gifts arising from diverse manipulation of the elements were rare, but not unheard of. Like how Surina’s brother could seal voices within a barrier of air by preventing the vibrations of sound from escaping. The ones in the journal were well beyond that level of magic, though.

Some the author wrote of could freeze time within ice, influence blood to heal the sick and injured, or even predict the future. But the most far-fetched, by far, was a male who could apparently read minds. There was no way to know whether these beings actually existed, but she couldn’t help but wonder if these were the kind of abilities Seros was searching for—not Surina’s, whose magic depleted the surrounding world, only to create destruction and chaos.

“Nothing,” she sighed. “Hours and still nothing .” It was only the first day of searching, but there was just no way to know how much time she had before she snapped again. Before she fell into that surrender, only to never return.

If the faerie realms really were her only option to hide this power from the rest of the world, then fine, but she had every intention of finding a solution before it came to that. She just needed something promising enough to convince her kings to let her stay—to convince herself.

Her stare drifted over to the dragon book. She’d read every page, front to back, leaving slips of paper in the most notable—or questionable—sections of information. Like that strange message about Myrah draug .

Surina flipped to that part, carrying the text while continuing down the long stretch of shelves. She read it in her head first, then aloud.

“‘The amulet of life, forged by Seros as a gift to his beloved daughter, Isla, heir to life and champion of creation. A conduit crafted to shield the realms from the temptation of shadow and the extinction of light.’”

“A conduit to shield from the temptation of shadow,” she repeated wearily, dragging a thumb down the length of the silver chain until she met the crescent.

Before, she’d laughed at herself for thinking there was something remarkable about a silver moon, but after the past month, nothing felt like a coincidence anymore. Having seen both the dagger and the necklace in her dreams—not to mention the strange pulses in her chest that seemed to only appear with those voices or their aura—there had to be more to the family heirloom.

Tracing the windy, floral pattern on the crescent, she brought it close to her lips. “Hello?” she whispered, hoping, if anyone had the answers, it might be whatever seemed to reach through it to talk to her.

Nothing.

“ Now you want to stay quiet?” She gritted her teeth together. “Maybe if you spoke up when I actually need you, we wouldn’t be in this situation.”

Then, something caught her eye—a glimmer from her palm. At first, she thought it was the necklace, but as she prodded the moon, she quickly realized that glow flickered from the scar beneath it. Like a little smog of light…

“Are you talking to a neck—”

That deep voice didn’t get a chance to finish his question before she swung around, her fist colliding with a gloved, leather hand. Ice spread from the impact, and he lowered it from his face, revealing amber eyes full of humor.

A low whistle sounded. “You’re quick for a little faerie,” the man hummed, a sly grin working the edge of his lips up.

Not quick enough, if he was still able to make a comment like that . And if it wasn’t for the fact that he’d saved her life two weeks ago, she probably would have made a second attempt.

Fae were the first of creation, and every other creature that came after them—faeries—were sometimes thrown into the same category by humans as an insult. Most of the time, humans were smart enough to not openly suggest that fae were of the same ilk as a forest-dwelling creature that couldn’t even speak or stand on two legs, but this human clearly had no such qualms.

“ Excuse me?” she returned, rather than another fist, voice as cold as the ice climbing towards his wrist.

“Apologies.” The man snorted a laugh, finally releasing his grip on her hand. “Little faerie princess ,” he corrected himself with a crooked smile, and a wisecracking bow to follow. “Not a bad swing, either.”

She chewed the inside of her cheek to curb her tongue’s bite, rubbing at the sharp ache of her knuckles. It felt like she’d punched a fucking wall. “I didn’t hear you come in.” With the cleanup going on outside, she assumed all servants would be there. She felt gods-awful about not helping, but Ezra wanted her far away from it, and she had to agree. It would look a little suspicious for a princess to be outside cleaning up.

He shrugged, sloughing off the icy layer from his gloves. “No worries. I should know better than to sneak up on a fae by now.”

Was this a recurring trend for him then? Silently materializing behind fae? As she recalled, the last time he’d snuck up on one, he put a blade through her chest. Granted, it was for a good reason.

Well, good for Surina , not so much for Giselle…

“What are you doing here anyway?” she asked before the silence grew awkward, even though it kind of already felt that way.

He looked her up and down before his stare whisked over to the bookshelves. “I thought there might be an almanac or something about the area.”

“An almanac?” she queried, her face scrunching together.

“For the weather patterns here. Clear skies all day yesterday and then some freak storm came from nowhere? Crazy, right?” His eyes landed back on her.

She nodded briskly, her reply just as swift as she swiveled on her heels, picking up the dragon-scaled book she’d dropped at her feet when he came up behind her. “I was just leaving, so the library is all yours. Pretty sure the almanacs would be in the far back, though,” she offered before laying the book on the table.

“Interesting read?” His question was blunt, void of any snarkiness.

She had to follow his stare just to see what he was referring to—the dragon book.

“Not as much as you’d think.” Trying to determine his thoughts through his hardened features alone, she noted the chafing sound of leather beneath the rigid clench of his fist. Probably disgusted by the bizarre choice in bindings. She didn’t blame him one bit. “Do you always wear gloves?”

“Only when I’m feeling particularly fashionable.” His voice lightened, much like earlier, except there was a slight bitterness at the end.

She scowled at the obvious derision.

Running his leathered fingers through the wild, chocolate strands of his hair—which she only now noticed had a slight russet undertone beneath the warm lighting of the chandeliers—he brought her attention back to his hands. “Burn scars. People tend to stare, and I for one, would rather they not.”

First she almost punched him in the face, and now this? “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.”

“It’s fine.” He brushed past her, a wash of citrus and bold, smoky musk wafting from his movements.

The man reached towards her discard pile, plucking one from the stack before shoving the book back in place on the shelf—it wasn’t even close to where it should have gone. She stifled the urge to correct him. Barely.

“You have a burn, too, if I’m not mistaken?” He didn’t look back as he asked it, just continued to place all the excess texts in the wrong places.

Her fingers curled around the sun scar. “How do you know that?”

“Apart from how everyone in the kingdom knows?” he quipped, tilting his head just enough for her to catch the twinkle of humor return to his eyes. “I saw it the other night in the apothecary.”

“Right.” Surina trailed a finger down a mottled ray on her palm, a strange shudder rolling through her body at the same moment he dropped a leather-bound text. The sudden sound made her heart just about burst.

“Sorry,” he mumbled under his breath.

Releasing the stiff strain of her spine, she spoke up. “To answer your question, yes. Four years ago, I was burned by a dragon. But if you already knew that, why ask?”

His shoulders locked up before he could put another book away. “I guess I’m just curious to know what it was like to see one.”

She sucked in a frayed breath, closing her eyes to let that night simmer beneath her skin. “It was… terrifying. I didn’t think I would survive.”

“You don’t cover it up? The scar?”

“Why would I?” When she’d cooled her blood down, she finally broke, slipping a hand out to grasp his wrist, guiding the book he was holding to its designated location based on its title.

By the Mother, he was hot . Like temperature hot—more so than she remembered humans being. Even without touching the honeyed bronze of his skin, she could feel the heat radiating from him like a furnace. Although, he was handsome too. And tall. She came up to his chest, like she did with Ezra. But fae were naturally a bit taller than the average human.

He flashed an ivory smile, letting out a light chuckle as he placed the text before asking, “I imagine it’s quite the spectacle, being marked by a dragon. Don’t they stare?”

“All the time.” She gave an honest reply, not really sure why she needed to. Maybe because he’d saved her life, and she felt like she owed him for it. “But I’d rather face the stares than hide it. It’s a reminder of the beast I survived that night.”

“The beast?” The man peered down at her, his face a mix of skepticism and curiosity. “You mean the dragon?”

“What else would I mean?”

With a shrug, the man crossed his arms over his chest, leaning into the dark frame of the shelving. “For someone who was nearly murdered by a fae, you don’t seem to have the same disregard for them as you do dragons.”

“Not all fae are like that.”

His eyes flicked to the spot on her neck where she knew Ezra’s bite swelled under the shroud of lace. The man’s stare didn’t linger long—didn’t have to—before rising to meet the flustered heat of her cheeks. “Not all dragons are either.”

Apart from the fact that her father was murdered in cold blood by dragons, and she’d been in the crossfire of some revenge attempt on behalf of that murderer, Surina didn’t really have much good to say—other than the obvious exception of Moira—so she asked a question instead. “Do you know many dragons?” she countered, her jaw going tight with a challenge.

Sensing her criticism, he blew a breath through his nose, shoving up from the shelves. “A pleasure, princess, but I’ve wasted enough time as is. I should be getting back to work.”

Work?

She peered over at the window, where the sun had already begun its descent. Like Surina, he was cutting it pretty close to breaking the law requiring mortals to be in their quarters before nightfall.

Her chest tightened as she watched him walk away, and maybe it was the thought of another mortal—one who would have no inclination of the real danger fae posed—wandering through the keep alone. And difficult as that mortal may be…

“Wait!” she called after him, and he actually did. “Shouldn’t you be heading back to your room? The sun is nearly down.”

His turn was rigid, until he faced her completely, that sour glare still in place. “And?”

“ And … it’s not safe at night.”

“I’m well aware of what goes on in the night,” he countered dryly.

She doubted that.

He glanced down, studying where she nervously dragged a thumb along her sun-scarred palm. She hid her hand behind her skirts.

The harsh cut of his features softened. “Don’t worry about me, princess. I can hold my own.”

Based on his stature, and the sure way he carried himself, she might have believed him. It wasn’t other mortals he would be crossing in the night though. It would be fae, and while their need for blood to survive was no secret to humanity, they only knew enough of the fae to barely scratch the surface.

Surina might not be able to convince him to return to his room, but she sure as hell wasn’t going to let him walk away as another nameless face, like the halfling in the library back home.

“I don’t even know your name,” she admitted before he could turn away, shame making her stomach flip.

The quirk of his lips drew her gaze in, where she hung on to every syllable. “Callen,” he murmured, a little reluctantly. Like he was afraid something dark and treacherous would materialize once spoken.

Callen . She imagined a stronger name for a man who looked so… well, strong . Like the warriors in the garrison. But it was a nice name.

“Thank you… Callen. For risking your life the other night to save me.” Her body warmed, the slight tingle at her hand making her fingers curl in.

He blinked through his surprise for several seconds before he dipped his head in a bow. “Don’t thank me yet, little faerie,” he murmured into the space between them.

She cocked her head in silent question, but the doors to the library swept open to let in another before she could ask why.

The lord of the keep strolled right in.

“Suri, I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” Kian beamed, crossing the space with a few lengthy strides. He must have come from the garrison, based on the sword still sheathed at his back, and the winded flush of his cheeks and ruffled hair. “You missed training this morning.”

“Yeah.” She chuckled, rubbing at the strange tickle that climbed her arm. “Sorry about that. I kind of overslept.”

Not a lie.

His nostrils flared when he approached, and he immediately looked at her throat, where she swallowed under the weight of that glare, brief as it was. “Not a problem. We’ll just make up for it another day.” He tore his eyes away to look past her.

She thought Callen would be in his line of sight, but when she turned, he was nowhere to be found.

How the hell —

“Doing some light reading, I see,” Kian voiced through a tight smile, and an almost forced cheeriness as he wheeled around her, indicating the hefty stack of books she planned to bring back to Ezra’s chambers.

“I was looking for something on the Awakening but can’t find anything older than three centuries. Do you know if any exist?”

Kian noted the scaled book at the bottom of the pile. “Nothing with a cover like that . Why? Anxious for your own ceremony?” His gaze floated up to hers.

“ No ,” she countered, much too defensively. “I’m just curious why we even bother with such a tradition. Where does it come from?” She was careful of what she asked. Ezra didn’t need to warn her about keeping the real reason behind the Awakening a secret. That didn’t mean she couldn’t inquire, though. So long as she left out the part about her being an omen for a rising evil, how dangerous were a few harmless questions, really?

“I know it began after the curse,” he started, sliding his finger along a row of old, dusty leather. He pulled a few from their places, opening each cover before bringing one back to the table. Swirls of dust puffed into the air from the stale text. “We’ve always used it as a way to honor the divines, and the gifts bestowed on our kind. The ceremony is to make us feel closer to them, like we once were.”

Opening to the cover page, the title read, Thesian Customs and Traditions .

It certainly looked ancient enough, so maybe it would be a good start. “Thank you.” She gave him a quick smile, parting it to a random place in the middle, to a section on displaying elemental aptitude. “So, what was your Awakening like?”

His lips kicked up at one corner. “For those of us without an affinity, it’s a show of our mastery in combat or intellect. I dueled Casimir, actually. I’m certain he let me win that night though.”

“You dueled my father?” Surina gaped, closing the book to lean into his words.

Kian nodded. “At the time, my father was general of his forces, so it was only fitting I show my king my worth as a warrior.” His eyes illuminated as he spoke of them, but that light dulled soon after.

The previous general, Kian’s father, had lost his life at the accords too.

Surina shifted on her feet, the newfound knowledge of what happened that night cutting painfully deep. “I’m sorry you lost him.”

“Me too,” he admitted softly. “But we both lost someone that night, and a kingdom lost her king.” To her surprise, a spiteful laugh followed the sentiment. “The wrong king, if you ask me.”

Her mouth parted, head swinging sideways to make sure they were alone in the library, because what he’d just spoken was absolute treason. “Kian, I’m not sure if you should—”

“Do you ever wonder what your life would be like if it had been him instead of Casimir?” The lord didn’t bother hiding his true thoughts on the matter. Just said it as plain as day.

When Surina failed to find something to say in the midst of her astonishment, Kian continued in her silence.

“I do.” He reached to grab the top of the lace collar of her throat, tugging it down until air reached the healing marks. “If Casimir knew what he was doing to you...”

She jerked away, taking a cautious step back as a slithering shock of power drifted over her flesh in vicious response. “Don’t pretend to know anything about us. And don’t assume what my father would think because he’s gone .”

Because of me, not Ezra , she wanted to say—wanted to scream !

Afraid that her rage might turn into the same hideous fury as last night, she reached for the stack of books to leave.

“But I do know him, Suri, and I know more about you than you might think.” Kian pinned her hand against the top of the pile, keeping her there. “I know that you deserve to be treated as your title suggests—heir to the Sun Throne—not some bloodwhore to a king who watched our fathers die.”

A burning heat nipped at her palm, traveling out towards her fingertips and up her arm.

“ Let go of me ,” she seethed, narrowing her eyes at the lord.

For as long as she could remember, even as a girl, he was only ever kind and honorable. This male was someone else entirely.

Kian’s grip on her didn’t ease, but his domineering stare did. “Please, Suri. If he’s forcing you to do things you don’t want, I can take you away from him. Somewhere he’ll never find you.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you !” A vengeful heat pulsed in her blood. It was scorching and fierce . She didn’t know what it was—which meant she needed to get out. Immediately. But he just so happened to be blocking her only exit.

“You’ll be safe there. Protected.”

“I said let go!” she screamed.

Suddenly a massive burst of heat came from the wall behind her. The fireplace, which hadn’t been burning before, blazed to life, reaching the height of the ceiling. The force of the initial eruption knocked sediment free from the stone frame.

Surina peered into the newly born flames until the tendrils settled down to creeping licks of fire. She knew of no enchantments placed on the rooms of the estate, as there weren’t any fire wielders present to ensure their upkeep like in the palace.

By the Mother .

Kian’s slow steps sounded as he neared the receding flames. “Did you just—”

“No. That’s not possible.” Her palm was much cooler than the frothing heat from earlier, though, and she couldn’t ignore the likelihood. “That’s not possible,” she repeated, as if that could make what just happened disappear.

“How did you do that?” Kian asked curtly.

But Surina was already racing for the halls, with only the dragon book in hand—fuck the others. There wouldn’t be anything worthwhile in them anyway.

Probably in a state of shock, thank the divines, the lord didn’t follow her out.

Now she needed to find Ezra, because he was the only one she trusted herself with anymore. The only one who could mask this ugly thing inside of her.