Soul of Ice (Chronicles of Dawn)

Chapter Thirty-Five

Grunts and heavy pants filled the private training grounds Galen Castmont had brought them to that morning. It was a vast, walled-in area dedicated to Princess Surina’s elemental training, but with her gone, and Nadia off doing the gods knew what for the second day in a row, Galen was stuck chaperoning.

Runa idled closer to the marble walls, lying down on a massive rock. Using her affinity, she offset whatever cold the sun couldn’t, which was quite a bit, considering the on and off rain all morning. Blaine occupied the same space, only he was standing, leaning against the rock with crossed arms, as if he had somewhere better to be.

She didn’t want to be anywhere else though. Not. One. Bit. Nope, she was content with sitting right there, because just ahead was a half-naked Castmont, working up a sweat in a shirtless, midmorning routine. The sweat trickled through the dark curls of his broad pectorals, all the way down to the low-rise leather of his pants. His arms bulged with every dip, bringing his nose to the dirt for what had to be the thousandth time.

Goddess burn her alive, he was… vigorous .

What the fuck was in the Castmont genes that made them so gods-damn attractive? Maybe it was a way for the divines to make up for not giving their bloodline any magic. The way that male moved and flexed, though, she bet he did have magic, it just wound up in other places...

Blaine’s silent irritation flared into words with her continued stares. “He’s a bastard, you know.”

“Hmm?” Runa couldn’t hear anything over her own pulse drumming in her ears.

She could appreciate what Nadia saw in the male, certainly, but apart from the obvious ability to break the bed during sex, she was curious to know what else there was. He was most definitely a warrior type, with little to nothing going on upstairs—kind of like his cousin, who was apparently still talking.

“He was only knighted out of pity. He’ll never amount to anything.”

“I’d mount him,” she countered wryly, hoping that would shut him up—it didn’t.

Blaine scoffed, aiming a pointed glare up at her. “You clearly have no standards then.”

“ Clearly , or else I wouldn’t be sleeping with you .” Her quip was riddled with contempt. “Besides, Nadia seems to like him well enough.” With the standards she held Runa to during training, that had to transfer to her love life. Which meant Galen was practically a god in the flesh, if her math was correct.

“Because they’re both sanctimonious asses. They’re perfect for each other.” Blaine’s jaded remark was followed by a ridiculing sneer, directed right at his cousin, who was now cupping water from the pond to dump onto the back of his neck.

“Did something happen between you two? I thought Castmonts were all about family and loyalty.” And why had Blaine had a list with his father and cousin on it? It was weird, and apparently very important, too, because after she turned it to soot, she threatened to do the same to Blaine when he returned that night, insisting he search her room for something he left behind, though he wouldn’t actually say what.

Blaine shrugged off her question. “Shouldn’t you be in court? I thought Leirie and your brother were meeting with the king today to make some big announcement.”

They were—in hopes that the Fairlight king would grant them permission to marry. The law forbade fae from public engagement until both parties were transitioned, but Fynn insisted King Cyril would make an exception for them. Runa thought he was in over his head, and walking a thin line toward losing it.

It was evident they shared something more than just impressive lineages, though, because she’d never seen Fynn so hung up on a girl before. Runa wanted to be there to show her support, but she’d been making an effort to avoid Lucius, and if there was ever a grander audience involved, her father would surely be attending.

“Why aren’t you there?” she countered. “I thought Leirie was your friend?”

He jerked his stare downward, finding a new interest in his boots.

Runa clicked her tongue, a raw delight kindling beneath her flesh. “Did someone not get an invite to the party?”

“You two just going to stand around prattling all day?” a gruff bark called.

Swiveling her head, she nearly gasped when she caught sight of the knight, trudging closer, dripping from the head down. Runa was parched, and she wasn’t above licking the water right from that glistening—

“Your mouth is open,” Blaine grumbled under his breath.

With a frown, Galen reached to snag his shirt from the grass. “I thought you’d have the self-discipline to get your own routine started, but clearly not.” He directed most of his irritation at Blaine, to her amusement, but Runa’s broad grin fell when he looked to her next. “And Nadia said you need to work on your core. Since you had the day off yesterday, your shoulder should be plenty healed for what I have in store.”

Her interest was definitely piqued, gaze prancing over the rigid cuts of muscle he was in the process of covering up, but the mention of her guard struck down any hope of acting on that languid heat. “Where is Nadia?”

“She has matters to tend to.” After finishing the last of his buttons, he started cinching on the leather and steel pieces of armor that were sitting in a pile with his sword on top.

“For two days?” Nadia hadn’t even mentioned her impending absence at their last session, which probably shouldn’t be all that surprising, considering Runa had dislocated her shoulder that day, and they weren’t really talking to each other right now.

“For as long as she needs.” Galen’s tone was brusque, and so obviously deflective.

A bitter laugh passed through her nostrils before she rolled onto her back to stare up at the shifting sky. “Well, I need an instructor, not a nanny.”

“Then pick up a sword, princess. I’d be happy to instruct.”

Craning her neck, she sized up the knight from where she lay, admiring the cloudy white of his scarred eye. “My conscience would never allow me to fight the disadvantaged. Can you even see out of that thing?”

Blaine choked on a laugh, but Galen just lifted his chin to the offense. “Come find out.”

“ So tempting,” she droned, trying to appear as if she was actually considering it. “But I think I’ll pass.”

Brushing off her disregard—or rather, pretending to—the male finished strapping his sword to his waist. “That’s a shame. I really wanted to see what all the fuss was about.”

She frowned at that. “What fuss?”

“He’s baiting you,” Blaine said nonchalantly, eyeing the soft pink scars twining his fingers. “That’s what he does when no one wants to play with him. Like a child.”

Ignoring his cousin, Galen continued. “Nadia says you’re a natural with a sword. Personally , I don’t see it. With those stick arms, I wonder how you manage to even pick that thing up.” He nodded his head towards the sword she brought over from the garrison.

Definitely baiting her. Sad thing was, it actually worked.

“Can I use magic?” As she asked it, she grinned, willing flames to rise from the hand she stretched towards the gloomy clouds of rolling thunder.

Rolling his neck, he sounded indifferent to her request. “Use whatever you want, if you think it’ll help. I’ll even restrict my speed.”

That was all she needed to hear before leaping from the stone, landing with the grace of a cat in her black leathers.

By the time she was done stretching, Galen was waiting, blade in hand, clearly pleased with himself for having successfully riled her.

The sword he kept was ornate, looking more like a ceremonial blade than anything a soldier would arm himself with on the battlefield. “You get that from some fae duke during the Second Age War?”

His shoulders sagged for a moment. “How old do you think I am?”

She looked him up and down, noting the outdated technique with which he carried the sword—definitely the type to think the old ways were the best ways. “Six hundred.”

The glower that followed was difficult to interpret.

“Seven?” she countered, but only got a sigh in return. “Am I getting warmer?”

“We doing this or what?” he griped.

Humming a pleased tune as she got into position, she twisted her sword around—an unremarkable training blade that probably hadn’t been sharpened in months. She stared keenly at the one he held, and how it reflected the sun like a mirror. Could probably knock a head clean off its shoulders…

“I want to use your sword. Mine’s dull.”

Galen scoffed. “That’s not happening, princess.”

With pinched brows, she put a hand on her hip. “You said I could use whatever I want.”

“You did say that,” Blaine agreed, showing the first modicum of interest since he got here. Guess there was someone else he disliked more than Runa, if he was willing to intervene on her behalf.

“Fine.” Despite his tight-lipped grin, Galen offered the sword with a strained fist on the hilt, blade down.

Runa grabbed it, exchanging it for her sword and some pretty eyelash flutters.

The male just scowled at her, taking her sorry excuse for a weapon—a lackluster replacement of his, she realized after inspection.

She swung the glinting steel, way lighter than it looked. It was well-balanced, too, for having such a gaudy hilt. The moon pommel, perfectly fashioned into an intricate crescent, was the most prominent part, though it wasn’t even close to the most interesting.

Tracing her finger over the blade, she studied the ancient lettering along the length of it.

“When the moon falls,” she interpreted aloud, flipping it over to see where the rest was. Just the same markings on the other side. “Cute.”

Galen gaped, but it was Blaine who spoke up. “You can read that?”

Her head snapped sideways to spear him with a glare. “I just did, didn’t I?”

“Surprised you have an interest in dead languages,” Galen tacked on, clearly in as much disbelief as his cousin.

She was actually forced by her grandfather to learn it, but still, such a typical male, under-valuing a female’s potential. Fine by her, that just meant kicking his ass would be effortless. And gratifying.

Summoning a sparkling flash of teeth, Runa kept up the sweet charade so she could locate a weak point—something she’d been looking for since he stripped off his shirt this morning. “What can I say? I’m full of surprises.”

Not quite as dumb as she thought he was, he caught on to her slow, prowling steps, and stiffened with realization.

Her first instinct would have been to go for the scarred side. The way he encased it in armor, anyone would think he was guarding a shortcoming, but that wasn’t it. This warrior was clever, arming the scarred side because it looked defective. He was overcompensating for a weakness that didn’t exist.

Which meant the real weakness would be in the parts he left wide open—the parts he didn’t expect anyone to go for.

Sending a lance of flame at her opponent’s armored shoulder, Runa launched forward, using the distraction of the fire to shroud her true intentions.

Once the fire impacted with a crackling burst—hardly enough to singe flesh—there was a split second before he realized what she was actually up to.

She swung down on the arm that he’d hoisted to defend his armored side.

Twisting just in time, Galen barely managed to avoid losing an arm, but the slice that cut through the leather armguard from wrist to elbow, all the way to the bone, was just as satisfying.

Ogling the scarlet painting the once mirror-like steel of the blade, she paused to commend her work. “Now this is a sword.” She was beginning to wonder if the bow had been the wrong pick when she was a child. It had been her mother’s favorite, so she chose it, too.

“Lucky first shot,” he hissed, gritting his teeth as he clenched a fist—the ligaments stretched with the strain, making her a little squeamish. He looked up from where it was already repairing itself, a wash of shock and amusement sealing the furrow of his brows. “Again.”

“Sure you don’t want to—”

Galen charged at her. Having been too close for her to lift the sword, he took her right to the grass, and it was not as soft as it looked. Especially when a fully grown immortal male landed on top of her, crushing the air from her lungs on impact.

Bringing her knee up and into his side, he barely showed any signs of pain, and they continued their tumbling until he managed to pry the sword from her hand. He’d already abandoned his own blade and used his height to leverage a serpentine hold on her body.

“This isn’t a duel! You’re just groping me!” Her shrieks fueled a fiery discord in her blood. After the rattling collision, and her continued attempts at freeing herself, she was finding it difficult to connect to flame.

“It’s called grappling, and it’s exactly why you need to work on your core. You let anyone get close to you, and you’re done for.” His voice came out with little show of exertion, and that fucking infuriated her.

Runa managed to free a leg, but before she could do anything with it, his arm laced around her throat, locking with the forearm she’d split open. Now healed, the residual blood smeared down the side of her face.

“Yield, and I’ll let go,” the knight spoke flatly against her ear.

She was too lost in her racing heart to acknowledge his fair offer. A harrowing, bitter laugh slid from her lips instead, along with losing even more breath when he used his arm as a lever, cinching the press at her windpipe.

The air grew thin the more she squirmed, and white flecks shone in the corner of her vision. A heaviness weighed against her chest that she was all too familiar with.

“Yield,” she heard again, but the sound of her mother’s voice surfaced from that plea.

It’s okay , the voice said, and it echoed like a haunting ensemble. It’ll be like going to sleep .

Something wet and hot passed over her cheeks then, slipping into the strands of her hair.

Tears.

They were fucking tears . After she promised Nadia—promised herself—that she would always fight. That no one could take that fire from her.

Grinding her teeth together, she slapped a hand onto the plated steel of his arm, scrounging up all she had left to turn the glossy metal armor into molten liquid.

He howled, breaking his hold and twisting out from behind her to claw the armor away.

Rolling onto her hands and knees, Runa coughed and choked her way through each breath, her ribs expanding to fit a painful amount of air. Those ragged heaves morphed into an animalistic snarl when the world finally stopped spinning and she locked eyes with Galen, who had the nerve to look appalled.

The grass and soil she clutched sizzled in her fists, and the welcoming smell of smoke filled her nostrils. She couldn’t see it, but she could feel it—a curtain of flame rising behind her, curling around her back like wings of vengeance.

Directing her palm at him, Runa didn’t just rummage around for the warmth of her elemental affinity. She scoured— hunted —for a blistering, devastating heat that would wither him away to nothing —

A hand seized her wrist just as she let all calamity unfold, jerking her aim upwards. Her magic tore into the sky like an eruption from the earth. Thinking it would be Blaine trying to stop her from killing his cousin, she snapped her head sideways.

It wasn’t glassy blue eyes she was met with, though, but irate brown ones, flecked with gold.

The explosive power dwindled, and she willed the fire at her back to settle into soot around her. “What are you doing!” Runa shrieked.

“Saving you from the noose,” Nadia returned, the disapproval in her voice sharper than any blade.

Runa broke the tethers completely, snatching her wrist free—only because Nadia let her. “We were dueling. He said I could use magic.”

An audible grumble came from the male, but Nadia shot him a glare so terrifying, he immediately shut up. Catching on to the hint, Galen quickly collected his things, then his cousin. Galen risked one last glance at Runa before stalking out of the training grounds. He actually looked worried.

She grinned.

“Want to tell me what that was about?”

That pride was washed away just as fast as it came. “Oh? So you’re actually talking to me now?”

The Phaetrian’s jaw slackened, clamped shut, and then opened again. “ You’re the one avoiding conversation with me .”

“Because you look at me like I’m some puppy in need of a home!”

Blowing out an exasperated huff of air, Nadia shook her head. “ Gods , I knew I shouldn’t have come.”

“So why did you? I thought you had so many important matters to tend to .” Her voice was a droning mockery.

“I have orders from my king. I’m leaving Thesia for a while.” They kept each other’s gazes, something resembling sorrow crossing Nadia’s features before they stoned over. “I came to say goodbye.”

Runa’s face fell, through no control of her own. And how did she correct her heart’s little slip-up? The only way she knew how. “Well, I doubt the fucking bastard got too far. Tell him he’s still not off the hook.”

Light droplets started to form, pelting her as she bent over to grab the dull training blade.

“I’m not here for Galen.”

Slowly, Runa stood back up and faced her. Winds soared through them, a static air churning with the worst of the storm incoming.

“I couldn’t leave things how they ended between us.”

Runa was perfectly content with leaving things how they ended, if it meant she didn’t have to talk about any of it. “Why? It’s not like we’re friends.”

The comment didn’t seem to faze Nadia, and she was now so close that Runa had nowhere else to pretend to look.

Almost unrecognizable in anything but her steel armor and cobalt cape, Nadia’s sandy-brown skin and gilded markings looked heavenly against the new, foreign color palette—a copper-hued gown with gold trim and a cloak of ivory. Even her hair was undone. Long dark hair, falling like silken curtains over her shoulders. She had all the elegance and beauty of a queen, while somehow still looking like she could put you on your ass.

“I owe you an apology,” Nadia started, seemingly a little reluctantly. “You remind me of someone I lost long ago. Someone who was dear to me. But you’re not her, and I was wrong to expect your trust without having done anything to earn it. It isn’t something I’m entitled to, I know that now.”

Runa had never been speechless before, but there was a first time for everything.

“To be honest, I’m not sure if I deserve your trust,” she continued through the silence. “But I hope one day I can earn it. If you’ll let me.”

Words wouldn’t come out, no matter how hard she tried. Not even a snide remark or a bitter joke. It wasn’t until Nadia walked away that she actually realized what this meant.

It could be years before she saw Nadia again. What if she never saw her again? Or worse, what if they did see one another, and Nadia detested who Runa became after the change?

It’s a miracle she doesn’t already.

“Nadia!” Runa caught up to the Phaetrian with a few lengthy dashes, her hefty breaths foggy in the chilling rain that had since picked up. “What about your dagger?”

Nadia came to a halt. “What about it?”

“Don’t you want it back?” It felt wrong to keep it after how she’d treated her.

A grand smile illuminated her entire face, even under the glum clouds. “The way you hold onto that thing while you sleep, I’d be a monster to take it from you.”

Her mouth fell wide open. Runa had been sleeping with the dagger each night, but how did she know that? “Have you been spying on me?”

“Only when the Court of the Moon is exceptionally restless.” Nadia’s jawline strained. “I don’t like them slithering outside of your room. They have no one to answer to right now, so I gave them one. You should be safe while I’m gone, but don’t do anything to piss them off.”

Nadia had been checking on her—had made some kind of deal that was promising enough to ensure security while Runa slept. Goddess, the fucking stagger in her chest was beyond excruciating, so she pressed her nails into the callusing skin of her palm to get through what she had to say next.

“You were right.” She didn’t bother speaking any louder than a whisper. Nadia’s immortal hearing would pick up on it, so no point in announcing it to the world. “I do need allies. Friends ,” she said with a defeated laugh.

Leirie was pretty much the only person keeping her together right now, and already, she felt that friendship slipping. With the lies and inability to simply speak what was on her heart, it was only a matter of time before Runa wound up like Lucius—an unfeeling creature who would be alone until the end of her days.

“I don’t know how to let people in.” Finding the courage to actually admit that without looking away was probably the hardest damn thing she’d ever done. And when she raised her chin to what she assumed would come next—a look of pity—she was met with the exact opposite.

Nadia’s soft laughter chimed through, heating Runa’s blood beneath the cold, soaked leather of her gear. “I’ve come to learn you don’t have to let someone in. If they care enough, they’ll let themselves in.”

Is that what Leirie had done? Let herself in? It didn’t seem to matter how cruel or rude Runa was to her at the start, the prim little fae always came back each day, oozing kindness.

“You’re shivering, girra . You should get inside.”

Runa lifted her hand between them, summoning a gentle bloom of flame within her palm. Right away, it warmed her to the very bone, but her knees almost gave out when she looked up from it.

Nadia stared tenderly into the blaze, a captive serenity smoothing over her features. “I’ve always admired fire wielders. They’re—”

“Bad-ass?” Runa offered a droll smile.

With an eye roll, Nadia went on. “They’re extraordinary. Taming something that would otherwise maim and destroy. You can conjure warmth and light with a snap of your fingers.”

Gaping at the fascination shining in Nadia’s eyes, Runa wondered if the female recalled how she’d nearly obliterated Galen with “warmth and light” just a few minutes ago.

Willing the blaze to spiral through her fingers like a writhing worm, Runa couldn’t help but make a joke to break the earnest tension. “Should have let me use it in training. Blaine would be dust in the wind by now.”

With an awkward shift on her feet, Nadia crossed her arms over her chest, making her look more like herself in her new choice of clothing.

“ What ? Don’t tell me you wouldn’t love that.” Maybe Runa had misjudged their relationship, assuming that the two just didn’t like each other.

“Be careful with Blaine. He can’t be trusted.”

Runa shrugged. “He’s just an entitled pretty boy.”

“Just watch your back around him.” The monotone finality in Nadia’s voice made her shudder.

Squeezing her hand into a tight fist, Runa snuffed out the flame. “I always watch my back.”

A horn bellowed in the distance, its tune gloomy and dreadful—something she expected from a funeral march for fallen soldiers. “What the hell is that?”

“A sound I haven’t heard in twenty years. It has to be a messenger bringing news from King Ezra.” Nadia stepped towards the dismal song, as if she could interpret the message through its notes.

Runa pressed a palm to an ear to block out what she could of the noise. “Must be pretty fucking urgent,” she hissed.

The Phaetrian’s head swung back to her, and through the rain and darkness, she found something new in those widened brown eyes.

Fear.

“It’s a call to arms.”