Page 128 of Throne of Ice and Blood

A muted sense of understanding washes through me. This is how the Red Hand was getting in and out of restricted parts of the Ice Palace. He wasn’t climbing in. He was flying.

“Come here,” Draven says.

That mind-shattering sense of shock that I have been suppressing during the fight starts to press back into me, so I just numbly walk over to Draven.

With heartbreakingly gentle movements, he lifts me into his arms and holds me to his chest. Then he tucks his wings in tight and leaps right out through the window.

My stomach lurches as we free fall for a moment.

Then his massive wings spread out wide, and he flies us away. After everything that has happened tonight, I have no idea where he is taking me. But I’m too exhausted and too shockedto ask. So I just lie there in his arms and try to wrap my mind around that single world-altering revelation.

Draven Ryat is the Red Hand.

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

It isn’t until Draven has walked in through the balcony door and set me down in the middle of the living room that I finally realize where we are. Frowning, I glance at the wooden floorboards and the dark gray fabric of the furniture. He brought me back to his rooms?

“You need to change into better clothes,” Draven declares as he disappears into the bathroom. Water splashes as he washes the blood off his hands and face. Then he strides towards one of the drawers by the wall. “And I need to clean that wound so that it can heal faster. Take off your dress.”

But my mind still cannot accept what I have just learned, so all that makes it out of my mouth is, “You’re the Red Hand.”

Draven yanks open a drawer and begins pulling out what looks like some sort of medical kit. But he glances over his shoulder at my words, and disbelief flits across his face. “Are we really going to have this conversation right now?”

I stare back at him with equal disbelief. “Yes!”

“They might be coming for us.”

“Then let’s go.”

“I need to treat your wound first.”

“Exactly. Then you can do that and talk at the same time.” Holding his gaze, I shake my head and just repeat, “You are the Red Hand.”

He shoves the drawer shut again and strides back to me with a bunch of supplies in his arms. “Yes.” Objects clatter as he drops the items on his desk and then jerks his chin towards the chair next to it. “Sit.”

While staggering over to the chair, I blurt out, “Why didn’t you tell me that you were working for the human resistance?”

“I’m not working for the human resistance. I didn’t even know that they were planning a damn heist tonight until they circulated word through their network earlier this week, asking me to help them by killing the guards outside the treasury.” He locks piercing eyes on me as he then retorts with, “Why didn’t you tell me thatyouwere working for the rebellion?”

I open my mouth to snap back at him, but then I realize that he has a point. Why am I expecting him to trust me with these kinds of dangerous secrets when I don’t trust him with mine? If I had actually told him about all of this, like I have been considering doing for weeks now, he would probably have told me about his own secret missions as well. I let out a humorless huff of laughter. I guess we both have some trust issues to work on.

“When did you even have the opportunity to sneak around and do this kind of work for them?” he asks.

“When you snuck out during the night to hunt the Red Hand. Or rather, tobethe Red Hand, I suppose.” I shake my head at him. “I can’t believe you’ve actually been helping them all this time.”

Then a small yelp slips from my lips as Draven grabs me by the hips and pushes me down in the chair that I had already forgotten that I was supposed to sit down on. After I’m seated, he drags over another chair and sits down next to me. His fingersare gentle as he pushes the torn fabric aside and inspects the wound.

“My goals have occasionally aligned with the humans’ missions,” Draven continues while he reaches for a bottle on the desk. “So yes, I’ve helped them as the Red Hand on occasion. But my own mission has always been to destabilize Frostfell as much as possible. And it’s so much easier to get things done when I work alone, so in this city, I never actually joined the resistance.” He lets out something between an annoyed sigh and a huff of laughter while he pulls the stopper out of the bottle and pours some of it on a clean piece of cloth. “I learned that from my first attempt, which isn’t going nearly as well.”

For a few seconds, I just stare at him. He leans forward and runs the piece of cloth over my wound. A hiss escapes my lips as the liquid he poured on it stings when it comes into contact with my open wound. Then a sudden realization hits me.

“Mabona’s tits.” I gape at Draven while he quickly cleans the dried blood from my wound. “That’swhy you were so unnecessarily cruel to the humans in your supposed search for the Red Hand. You were trying to make them angry. You were purposely trying to turn the whole city against the Icehearts.”

“Yes.” He tosses the now red piece of cloth on the table and meets my gaze. “This needs stitching.”

“Then stitch it.”

“I have nothing that will dull the pain.”

---