Soul of Ice (Chronicles of Dawn)

Chapter Thirty-Eight

“You fucking stabbed me,” Callen said again, without question that time.

She gaped into the dark, her fingers trembling around the hilt. “You…you scared me!”

“Give me that ,” he snarled, tearing her hand from the blade to jerk the metal free from his shoulder with a grunt. “You clearly don’t know how to use it.”

“I think this proves the opposite.” The guilt slowly trickled away with every lash of his tongue. “Why are you even out here?”

Prodding the opened bit of flesh at his shoulder, he hissed, recoiling at its sting. “Same as you, apparently. Running away.” He turned the weapon over in his hand, his lips parting as he took in the appearance of the blade.

“I’m not running…”

Only that’s exactly what she was doing—because Ezra didn’t think she could stand her own.

Swallowing down the flare of indignation, she tore strips of fabric from her skirts. Being trained by the court healer definitely came in handy in moments like these. Not that she’d ever stabbed anyone before, but now she was thankful for Moira’s lessons on dressing wounds.

Callen shifted to twist out of her reach. “I’m fine,” he grumbled.

“You don’t get a medal for bleeding out.” Studying the seeping cut at his shoulder, she waited for him to yield.

“No? Then what do I get a medal for? Because I’m still waiting on the one for saving you.” He muffled a barely there laugh when she steeled her glare in response.

Even in the dark, she could feel the roll of his eyes when he finally offered his shoulder to her. “Make it quick.” He followed every movement she made, no matter how minute.

After winding the strips under and over the bulk of his shoulder multiple times, she cinched the knot tight with a jerk. Surprisingly, there wasn’t a single smart-ass comment that followed. He simply mumbled a “thanks,” so awkwardly, she wondered if it was the first time he’d ever said the word.

A shuffle in the woods had both of their heads veering to where the orbs of light had been earlier, though they were long gone by then.

If he saw something she couldn’t, he didn’t say, but a restlessness thickened the air between them. “Come on, I’ll take you to the stables. That’s where you were headed, right?” His hand wrapped around hers.

She gasped at the sudden shock of warmth from his fingertips. For the first time, there were no gloves serving as a barrier between their flesh, and she got the full effect of his fevered skin. It was indescribable—he was definitely coming down with something. Maybe the flu or a cold…

A featherlight flutter tickled her arm before she realized he was pulling her away from where Ezra asked her to stay. A painful flash of heat nipped at her palm when she slipped her hand free.

“I can’t leave yet. I’m waiting on Ezra.”

Callen snorted a laugh, rolling his injured shoulder to test the new makeshift wrap. “Hasn’t anyone told you that a male who makes you wait isn’t worth waiting for ?”

Now it was her turn to snort. “Come up with that yourself?”

He shrugged. “You could say I’m sort of a lady’s man where I’m from.”

“Must be a small town,” she countered dryly.

“Dangerous with a blade and her mouth? Lucky me.” Callen grabbed her arm this time. “Now let’s go, little faerie. It seems I haven’t saved you for the last time.”

“That little faerie isn’t yours to save, human. So remove your hand or lose it.” The dark warning was trailed by the crackle of ice at their feet.

“Perfect timing,” Callen muttered into the minuscule space between them, his body tensing with the threat.

Surina tensed too.

He let her go, but didn’t move from blocking her view of who she knew to be Ezra. Another wave of relief poured through her just to hear the sound of his voice again, terrifying as it was.

“Now step aside,” Ezra added, his looming words drifting along the arctic breeze that sailed through.

Callen moved, not looking happy to be doing so.

Winds curled around her as the king spoke. “Come beside me, Surina.”

“Ezra, you really don’t need to—”

“ Now .”

All the hairs on her body raised with the command, and her legs quivered before sparking into motion.

Though she still couldn’t see all that well, scarlet splatters were stark against his fair skin as she approached the pool of moonlight he stood beneath.

Blood… so much of it dripped from his mouth and chin—drenching his torso and arms.

“It isn’t mine.” He answered her appalled stare before she could form words, his glower fixated on Callen, who idled by the tree. When he deemed the man was no longer a threat, his gaze drifted to hers. “You don’t need to be afraid of me.”

Was she afraid? It probably looked that way to him. Maybe it sounded that way, too, with the frantic race of her pulse, but all she could see now was this vengeful being of ice and wind. Surina had to be sick, a burning heat throbbing between her legs at the utter ruthlessness of the king, and she couldn’t think of anything other than wanting those savage hands on every inch of her. She only wished she’d seen that powerful body in action.

“You aren’t though, are you?” A tantalizing smile brandished those ivory fangs. “Remind me to bathe in the blood of our enemies more often.”

Callen’s voice was unmistakably irritated behind her. “Not that the moon isn’t lovely this time of night, but I’m more of a sunrise guy myself, and I’d like to live long enough to see it again. So if we could get going…”

“No one’s stopping you, human. Leave.” Ezra dipped his head in the direction of the keep, where the faint sounds of fighting remained.

“ Ezra ,” Surina chided harshly. “We can’t leave him here.”

Ezra sighed. “Why not?”

“He’s injured.” She looked back at the man, who cradled his shoulder with one hand, and clenched the guilty blade with the other. “It’s kind of my fault.”

Callen let out a ragged chuckle. “Kind of?”

“You stabbed him?” Ezra’s question was a coaxing inquiry. “I’m sorry I missed it.” Even in the shadows, Surina could sense the wry tilt of Ezra’s lips.

“He’s coming with us, so get over it.” Ignoring both of them, she shoved past Ezra’s shoulder.

Almost forgetting why she was waiting in these damned woods to begin with, she gasped. “The soldier from earlier, is he…?”

“He waits for us,” Ezra interrupted before her mind could go to the worst-case scenario, taking her hand in his.

Returning his reassuring squeeze, she ignored the slick slide of blood between their shared skin, falling in step beside him.

When they made it out of the concealment of the trees, the soldier, who had since healed from whatever injuries he sustained, spun to face them.

Fae held an eternal youth, but this male had likely transitioned only a couple years ago. At least that’s what she guessed, based on the wild, antsy nature of his mannerisms, and the awe-stricken stare he offered the king on their approach. Nothing like the smooth, calculated movements of an immortal with centuries of life.

“Your Highness,” he called to Surina, dropping to a knee before her while revealing the massacre that awaited.

She mumbled her regards, her eyes conducting a dismaying scan of the field beyond. It was impossible to get a good death count when their limbs and heads were strewn about, the grass stained in puddles of their blood. Columns of ice held several bodies upright, each with their heads or hearts removed.

“ My gods ,” she breathed.

A strong arm found her waist, giving her momentary stability. “I’m sorry you have to see this.”

“They…” She swallowed down the bile climbing her throat when she spotted a removed head, propped on top of what looked to be his own body. “They would have done the same to us, right?”

“I wouldn’t have survived without His Majesty’s aid, Your Highness.” The soldier shifted his attention to Ezra. “I am very grateful, my king.”

Not seeming interested in the soldier’s gratitude, Ezra disregarded the sentiment, and began guiding her around various body parts she otherwise would have stepped on.

“Who are they and why are they here?” Surina had a hundred questions before, but as they ambled through the twisted fields of death, those were the only two her thoughts could summon.

Neither Ezra nor the soldier seemed confident enough to answer, and it was Callen who spoke up behind them. “The weapons are crafted from a metal that originates in Phaetris. Their armor isn’t Phaetrian, though.”

A metal from the desert continent? That explained the unfamiliar hue of the blade—which Callen now rotated by the hilt in front of his face, wagging his brows when he caught her staring back at him.

Didn’t any of this bother him? It didn’t even seem like they were crossing the same bloodied field based on how blissfully ignorant he was to it all.

She frowned, facing forward again.

The soldier described his side of the events leading up to then, which were pretty similar to their own—the intruders came from nowhere and made no mention of their plans.

“It can’t be a coincidence they knew where our chambers were.” Ezra kept his head on a swivel, his roaming gaze flicking towards any slight sound or change in the wind.

“You think they were looking for us?” Surina could just make out the long wooden structure ahead, housing horses and carriages for private use. The other set of stables was attached to the garrison, on the opposite end of the estate. Those were for the cavalry’s warhorses.

“My father and aunt had many enemies, some that transferred to me when I became king, but in the times I’ve left the White Keep, no one dared attack so brazenly. Which makes me think they’re here for something else. Someone else.” Ezra’s voice was like gravel, a borderline growl as the grip at her waist tightened. “The only difference now is that you’re here.”

“ Me ? What would they want with me?” She never imagined her parents or Cyril having enemies, but families didn’t rule kingdoms for a millennium and not have those who stood in the shadows, envious.

Giselle had committed treason just because Ezra was infatuated with Surina, so she could only imagine what others would do if they felt their actions were justified. The former mistress was promised something beyond the title of king’s consort as a reward for Surina’s death. Maybe the male who sent Giselle had called for more attempts on her life, but why ?

So he was right, I can taste it. Which means he was right about everything else.

Whoever that male was, he knew things about Surina that she hadn’t known herself. Something that could be deciphered through the taste of her blood alone. Was it the same reason Emryn had wanted her dead?

Picking up on her sulking, Ezra lifted her right hand to place a kiss where the ring of silver and emerald sat. “It doesn’t matter what they want. They’ll meet the same fate as all the others.”

As if speaking it into existence, armored warriors stepped from the treelines on either side of the stables, advancing on them with caution. Probably afraid they’d end up like their friends before them.

There were double the amount from earlier.

The king ended the drifting silence. “Take her inside. Go north towards the capital until you make it to the first village. It’s a half day’s ride from here.”

Her head snapped in his direction. His jaw was tight while assessing the deadly obstacle before them—before him , because he definitely planned to do it alone. “You’re not serious. There’s at least twenty of them.”

“I promised Cyril I would keep you safe. Don’t make me break that promise.”

This had nothing to do with her brother and everything to do with Ezra, never thinking himself worthy of being saved, so what did his life matter to anyone else?

A stinging nip of fog started to drift in from the woods, washing over the approaching intruders to conceal them all in a shrouded capsule. It was Ezra, trying to buy more time for them to get away.

“ Go ,” he commanded once more, far more sternly that time. “I’ll seal off the front so you can escape through the back.”

“I’m not leaving without you,” Surina contended.

“Your Highness, our king has given us an order,” the soldier beside her added annoyingly.

“I don’t give a damn about his orders,” she snapped at the soldier, who probably only wanted to ensure her safety too. The enemy was likely close, and pretty soon, their only choice would be to fight.

“I can help, Ezra. You know I can.” There was an unspoken risk she’d be taking in trying to reach for that magic again, but what good was all this power if she couldn’t even use it to protect those she cared about?

“You would jeopardize them ?” Ezra nodded in the direction of Callen and the soldier.

Ezra didn’t care about them. He knew she did, though, and if she lost herself in that power again, the odds of anyone surviving were minimal, at best. Including herself.

Shit .

They came to a silent understanding, and just as he turned to slip away into the shroud, she caught his wrist. “Half a day, or I’m coming back for you.” Her fingers trembled, but her words didn’t.

That mischievous grin she loved so much toyed at the corners of his mouth, never quite making it all the way up. “Half a day,” he promised, tucking a loose strand behind the point of her ear. She didn’t even care that his fingers were coated with another’s blood, only that this meant goodbye.

With one last brush of his nose against hers, he disappeared into the fog.

Callen corralled her inside the stables, and the two of them selected a steed before she could even get her mind to settle. The sound of Ezra sealing the entrance to the stables didn’t help either, making her chest tighten with grief. Like it was the beginning of losing him.

Don’t think like that .

He would make it. She wouldn’t let herself believe anything else. Ezra was king for a reason—because he took the throne. Claimed it. The way she should be claiming her own power. But, instead, she was running from it, like a coward.

An unnatural heat cut through the fabric of her dress as Callen pressed a hand into her back. “Come on. We don’t have much time. You can ride with me.”

“I know how to ride a horse on my own,” she countered, but followed him anyway.

He shrugged off her comment with a sideways smile. “Good. You can steer then.”

“Not what I meant,” she huffed, reaching to take the hand he offered to help her onto the horse, only to stop just shy of his fingers—the ones he hid beneath gloves because they were burned.

These were unmarred. A few nicks and scars, but otherwise, flawless honeyed skin throughout.

“What’s wrong?” Callen pressed, patience thinning.

“Your hands.” Her brows knitted together as she recalled their conversation in the library. “They’re not burned.”

He sucked on his bottom lip. “I might have over-exaggerated the extent of my injuries.”

She frowned. “Over-exaggerated or lied?”

“This really isn’t on my list of priorities right now. Surviving is, so…” He stretched his hand towards her again—another offering.

Glancing over at the fae, who’d finished saddling his own steed, and was now studying Callen with the same amount of skepticism, she reconsidered her choice in company. “Do you mind if I ride with you, Sir…”

“Eliath. Just Eliath. I have not had the honor of being knighted. My family calls me Eli, for short, if that’s easier.”

“Eli it is.” She grinned, but it didn’t last long as screams started to fill the air from outside of the stables.

It was time to go.

A cruel laugh sounded behind her, where Callen remained. “You trust a fae you just met more than me?”

Because he’d saved her life once, he was entitled to her trust?

“I barely know you,” Surina stated flatly, her hand already curled around the horn of the saddle. In fact, she didn’t know anything about the man, apart from his name—unless he lied about that too.

Clicking his tongue, Callen slid his hand down the side of the mare he’d selected, giving her a gentle pat. “But you do know me, Surina. You have for years.”

Her foot froze in the stirrup before she could hoist herself onto the horse. It was unnerving to hear her name come from someone who wasn’t a relative or friend. Certain she’d never seen him before that day in Ezra’s room, she grasped for any trace of him in her memories, only to come up short.

“Don’t recall?” His face was grim and humorless as he glanced over his shoulder at her. “Need a hint?” Abandoning the moonlit space, Callen loomed closer, a relentless claim on the red-tinted blade he’d taken from her.

A cold, unsettling shock flooded her veins as he neared.

“Take another step and I’ll cut you down, human.” Eli had since released the reins on their horse, angling to rest his hand on the hilt of his sword.

Ignoring Eli’s warning, Callen peered past him, to where Surina eased from the saddle. In the gloom, she could barely make out the amber of his irises, until they flickered , like two candles piercing the shadows when they burned to life.

Molten balls of flame, with slitted pupils, sized her up now, pinching at the ends as a smile materialized.

Her mouth parted for breath, but like her affinity for fire years ago, this beast had stolen that too.

“Did you miss me, little faerie?”