Forged in Frost and Fire (Book 1 in the Chronicles of Kings trilogy)

Chapter Twenty Three

"How angry?" I asked, swallowing hard and trying to shove the anxiety down. My hands were shaking and my ice was swirling inside of me with no way out. I looked down at the cuffs at my wrists to see my veins turning blue underneath. My ice wanted out right now.

Gray shot me a look. "Don't touch his shadows, there was a stupid, stupid boy who learned very quickly never to touch his shadows."

"What happened to him?" I asked, almost too scared to ask. Gray shot me another look. Alrighty then.

"And don't disappoint him," Gray said. "His temper's gotten rather short recently."

"Is he really what they say he is?" We walked down another long hallway, this one much more open, our footsteps echoed out on either side of us. Every part of the palace was shiny and clean and definitely made of a lot more money than I had ever come into contact with in my nineteen years.

Gray simply looked at me. "Depends on who you ask," he said quietly. We got to a set of two large doors. Gray stopped in front of them, his hand drifting to a ring that was on his finger. It was an image of two hands clasped together, blood dripping between them and into the air. It was a strange crest.

"Be brave, Eira," he said, before opening up the doors. I clenched my jaw tightly and followed him inside. It looked to be an old ballroom. It was large and empty, with a tall ceiling, covered in paintings of what appeared to be angels. Some looked like children while others looked full grown, like warriors. Those people all seemed to have different wings. One was made of fire, the other water, another made of something like black smoke.

The floor was shiny and made of marble, the lighting was dimmer due to the slightly transparent curtains covering the windows. There were some tables clustered in the corner, each covered with a white sheet. It was depressing to say the least.

I was about to make a comment on the drab surroundings, when my eyes suddenly snagged on something in the center of the room. No, not something...someone. I felt my breath catch in my throat. It was a man, he was tall, his head bowed and his hands at his sides. He had hair as black and shiny as a raven's wing, and it hung into his face with his head so low. He was wearing all black, a simple tunic and pants though it was well cut and made of a fine material. He wore no finery, no jewelry. He didn't need to. He was loud enough. But all of those features drifted to the back of my head as my attention snapped to something else entirely. The man was encased in black shadows. They curled around him, slithering and swaying like snakes. They clung to his broad shoulders and lean waist, snaking up around his hands. It almost reminded me of a...shield.

Sable Diedre, a god among men, the weapon to the monarch. The king's killer. He was darkness, and I was terrified. And I hated it.

It took me a moment to realize why his head was so bowed, he was speaking to someone. A boy, he was the one from the other day, the one who winked at me. The boy had his arms crossed over his chest and was talking to Sable in hushed tones. They looked like they were speaking of something serious, judging by the way Sable's hands were clenched at his sides. The shadows around him darkened tenfold.

"Well, it looks like you have guests," the winking boy said, taking a step away from Sable. How the boy could be so careless around Sable's shadows, I had no clue. "Hello there, Gray. Always a pleasure."

"Always, Ayaz," Gray repeated, his arm brushing mine as he glared at the boy he called Ayaz. Fire burned in those gold eyes. Between the three of them, I felt like I could cut the tension with a knife.

"Snow Queen," the boy said, bowing his chin at me. I hated that nickname. Helen said the same thing to me before. "I heard you put on quite the show yesterday." He grinned down at me putting his hands into his pockets. He shot a glance at Sable, his grin falling from his lips. "Another time, then." He smiled at me, bringing his finger up to his brow before putting it down again. A salute. He must've heard I had been in the army, then.