A Shade of Dragon 2(56)

What warmth remained in my body drained out through my feet.

Dear gods, do not let this be.

But it was so.

A third guard approached, this one holding a heavy ax.

Fire surged through my veins, and Nell’s hand tightened on my arm, but there was no time to do anything—no time, and no hope. In this cold, dressed as an ice dragon, my abilities were halved at best. The ice dragons, on the other hand, would be able to perform at peak condition, and there were several hundred surrounding us, not to mention the guards themselves.

The ax fell, and as it did so, my jaw went slack. My eyes filled. And my heart broke.

In one moment, as my father’s head was separated from his body, I let go of all hope for our dynasty, for our future, and for our land. I even let go of all faith in the cosmic bureaucracy of good and just gods. The world turned black. And even Nell was no asterisk in this proclamation; even Nell was no footnote, no exception. She was just another gem in a crown doomed to be stolen. Just another beautiful soul, doomed to torture and execution at the hands of fate.

I couldn’t allow this world to exist. I couldn’t allow these truths to hold strong.

And yet there it was, a head rolling down the same stairs he had strolled across as his own in life.

The decree had been right.

This was Everwinter.





Nell





I watched Theon’s father, who I had never even had the pleasure of meeting, murdered in front of his very eyes. I held Theon’s arm. Please, be okay, I begged him silently, even knowing that he never would be again. How could anyone be okay after witnessing such a horror? How could he ever return to the Theon he was for me only one night ago? I couldn’t even imagine our future—it seemed a vast nothing, because what was there after such a terror was visited upon a man? Would he be able to laugh? Would he be able to dream, unless it was a nightmare?

I pursed my lips and stared only at him. His expression did not move. He seemed to be made of stone.

Trumpets blasted from the castle doors, but even then, I did not turn away from him. I held his arm as tightly as I could and silently pleaded for him to look at me, return to me, even though I did not know how to call back a soul from such torment.

“Strong and cunning people of Everwinter!” a voice called from the castle stairs.

I finally was able to turn my head from Theon, and saw that the supposed royal family had assembled there: Vulott, and Lethe, and… and Michelle?

She stood with the royal family as naturally as any ice dragon would, decked in furs of pure white, her coffee-colored curls coiffed. Her makeup was intense and powerful, her nails manicured to appear like talons. Was she trying to pass herself off as an ice dragon to these people? How long could that possibly last?

Then again, they did seem concerned primarily with themselves.

“It is with great vigor and victory that the court of Eraeus announces to you the coming coronation of Prince Lethe Eraeus, as well as his betrothal to Lady Michelle Ballinger, of the Boston Ballingers!”

A cheer went up from the crowd, but I had gone utterly blank.

And to think… it had only been last night that our union       had made the falling snow seem so pure, so innocent, and romantic.

But now the world around us, encrusted in snow, was hostile. And lonely. And I couldn’t bear it.

“Let’s get out of here,” I begged Theon. “They might recognize us.”

“I wish that they would,” Theon murmured, hardly seeming there at all. I pulled him through the crowd, careful to keep our backs turned to the new royal family. At least we were in a crowd of a few hundred. It was easy to disappear there.



 



We returned to the suite where we had left our things. Night fell quickly with the ice people in control of the astrolabe. The sky turned black, and no stars winked at us from above; there came no reassurance from the gods. The clouds were low, and the snow fell. It would be up to our knees and thighs again soon.

“Theon.” He hadn’t spoken a word, and I’d been overwhelmed by the gravity of the events we’d witnessed that evening. What could I say? “Theon… I’m so sorry.”

“There is nothing for which to be sorry,” Theon informed me stiffly. “It is the consequence of war. In truth, there is no reasoning behind one man living, another dying. Any of us could die at any time. There is no reason for it. No right or wrong.”

I stared at him, uncertain where to go from here.

I reached out to touch him, but he shook my hand from off of his shoulder.

“Theon—” As much as I wanted to tell him something, nothing but his name would come out, as if I could call him back from the abyss into which he had been flung by this tragedy.