Page 4 of A Throne of Blood and Ice

Really, the only thought that calms me from the impending panic attack that particular line of thinking threatens to trigger is the fact that he still considers me a danger to Ellie. His wife. The woman whom the magic that possesses my body keeps trying to kill. My best friend.

Well, Ellie’s probably not my best friend anymore.

As it turns out, hiding the fact that you’re in love with your best friend’s fiancé (and that you’re possessed by an ancient magic that’s responsible for stabbing your best friend) tends to put a strain on even the most stable of relationships.

Still. Evander thinks I’m a threat to Ellie—who am I kidding?—Iama threat to Ellie, like it or not.

He’s definitely not okay with me being on the loose. That’s the whole reason he locked me up.

Which means he’ll be looking for me.

Heislooking for me.

Right now.

Surely.

I hope.

He’ll start by questioning my cell guard. The one who Clarissa, my lovely step-monster, paid off (by selling off my stepsister Chrys into marriage) to turn a blind eye while she peddled me over to a stranger.

A chill scuttles down my spine at the memory of the fae female.

Her pale lips. Icy eyes. The lone blood-red gemstone dangling from her bracelet.

My dear, I’m afraid I wasn’t speaking to you,were her last words to me before the moon rose over the horizon and locked me away.

My instinct for self-preservation has my spine seizing, which would have sent me jolting upright if not for the restraints on my wrists and ankles. Instead, the sudden lurch just sends the back of my head slamming against the stone slab.

Well, at least the stars dappling the edges of my vision brighten up the room a bit.

I don’t know who my captor is, but that’s not exactly the problem.

The problem is that she knows me. Rather, she knows about what’s inside me.

Crap, crap, crap.

Hazy, drug-muddled images come rushing back all at once.

I know you’re in there. You can’t hide from me.

In the fragmented memory, the pale female’s face obscures my vision of the dungeon, but her steely breath brushes my clammy cheeks as if she’s still in the room with me.

It’s foolish of you to resist. Think of what we could do together.

Before I can untangle the rest of the memory, a dim light catches my attention in the corner of my eye. I jerk my neck to the side as the light brightens, revealing a stone staircase and a grated door.

Footsteps follow the light, and soon three figures descend the staircase.

Metal screeches, the door opens, and the three fae step into the room.

The first is the pale female who I suppose owns me now, thanks to my gold-licking stepmother. Half of her silvery-white hair flows loose at her shoulders, the other half secured in a knot at the top of her head. That same red-jeweled bracelet dangles from her wrist. She looks more irritated than she did the first day I met her, and I derive no small amount of satisfaction from that.

I’m not sure how I acted when I was drugged, but I hope I had her reconsidering whether I was worth whatever she paid for me.

Behind her stand two males, both of whom have their hoods drawn low over their faces, so I can’t see their eyes. Their jawlines are set, but they’re too still to be human.

“You’re awake.” The female states it as if she’s reading off the accusation of a crime. She sniffs at the air, disgust marring her otherwise elegant face. “You’ve soiled yourself.”

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