Page 52 of A Shard of Ice

Damon

We ride well into the night. Sleet keeps falling, making the ground treacherous to navigate.

I keep wanting to look back. I know it would be futile, so I refrain. Kyrie is not behind us.

In fact, I hope that she is headed in the other direction. That she is not tempted to follow or to put herself in danger. I fear for her. This is hywolf country. There are other creatures that are just as dangerous, but hywolves are top of the list. The great beasts hunt in packs. They’ll steer clear of a group of soldiers of this size but will be attracted to the scent of blood where the skirmish took place. I pray to all the gods that she takes a horse and gets herself gone from there. As much as hywolves are scavengers, they like the hunt and the taste of warm flesh far more.

My heart sinks. I’ve been captured. I was careless. An idiot. I should have left Cyrano. I should never have tried to save the male. Then again, if I had stayed with Kyrie, the bloodfae would have hunted us relentlessly until they found us. They would havehuntedme. I must have a sizable bounty on my head for them to have attacked the shadowfae. If I’d stayed with her, they would have had us both. Kyrie would be captured, too…or worse. It’s good that I was able to spare her. I also couldn’t just leave Cyrano to his fate. For all his shortcomings, he did not deserve to be slaughtered like an animal. At least it was a quick death.

Someone shouts something up ahead, and we come to a halt.

“We’re making camp here for the night,” the fae on the steed next to me says. “It’s not going to be the type of accommodation you’re accustomed to, Your Grace, but I’m sure it will do.”

I don’t rise to the taunts. It’s clear that they know who I am.

“Is he really the king of the icefae?” another of the blood drinkers asks; he looks skeptical as he takes me in. “He doesn’t look like a king with that shaggy beard. His clothes are hardly fit for a royal.”

“It is rumored that the kings are all in hiding. That it has been that way since Snow took over. What better way to hide than to wear old, dirty clothes and look unkempt? You’re right; he doesn’t look like a king to me, either.”

“They’re certainly not walking around with crowns atop their heads,” another remarks. “They’re trying to hide.”

This elicits sniggers from the group.

“Quiet! Get him off the horse, Aidan. We need to set up camp and see to the horses,” Egan says. I recognize him from earlier. He has extra-large canines. They are almost all the way over his bottom lip.

Then I’m being untied from the saddle horn and pulled from the horse.

“The Primus wants to see him,” another fae says as he walks up to us, leading his horse. “Once the tents are up, that is.”

“I’ll see to it that he gets there,” Egan tells him. The male nods and leads his horse away.

The fae get to work. Six males surround me, keeping their eyes on me and their hands on the hilts of their swords. They’re taking no chances. Feeling some rain and sleet on my face has helped put some magic back into my well, but it’s hardly enough to be able to use it for anything significant. I tried during my earlier sword fight and was quickly blocked. The bloodfae seem to be holding onto their magic instead of using it. I wonder why.

“Can I get a drink of water?” I ask. The last time I drank anything was this morning.

“You can hold your tongue.”

“Let him have some water,” one of the younger soldiers says, pulling a skin from a nearby horse.

“It’ll be your funeral. You do know that they can use water to forge magic.”

“You should have listened better during our studies,” the young male says. “They need large bodies of water to be able to use their magic.” He holds up the skin. “This is hardly a large body. We’ll need to be more careful once we hit the high ground. There will be snow, for sure. Icefae are good at wielding magic once their boots are in the white stuff.”

“We can’t kill him, but we can maim him. Break his legs, all of his fingers. Let’s see how he wields magic then.”

They all laugh, except for the young soldier, who holds the skin up so that I can drink. I mutter a word of thanks once I am done.

They may have captured me, but their numbers are down. Perhaps there will be a chance to escape. I will need an opportunity. If I see one, I’m taking it. I will get stronger the higher we climb. Once I am surrounded by ice and snow, my magic will be at optimum levels.

My gut churns with unease as I try to decipher Snow’s intentions. Whatever it is, I know it will not bode well for me.Not in the slightest. A wave of dread washes over me as I think about it.

A group of soldiers finally comes to fetch me to escort me to see the Primus. I wonder if the meeting will be anything like the one I had with General Belen. I somehow doubt it.

For a start, the Primus’s tent is far more elaborate. It’s bigger, with a large double opening. When I am escorted inside, there is no need to duck when entering. The place is adorned with luxurious fabrics and thick furs. The air is heavy with the scent of incense. It pours from silver urns that sit on either side of the structure. It’s not unpleasant, smelling of sandalwood and frankincense.

In the center of the tent, there is a large circular rug made from the furs of many different kinds of animals, all arranged in an intricate pattern. Atop the rug sits a bloodfae who I can only presume is the Primus. He is dressed in a white robe that he practically drowns in. His skin is ghostly pale, his canines long and sharp, and he looks the picture of calm.

The air inside is thick with magic, and I can feel it prickling against my skin like a hundred tiny needles. It’s almost at the point of being painful. It certainly feels like a warning not to try anything stupid.

---