Page 18 of Omen of ice
The Aphelian laughs. “Is it? Huh. That’s inconvenient.”
Clarity strikes, and the air in the room cools.Trapped. I’m trapped. “What did you do?”
Something brushes against the other side of the door. “Me? Why do you think I did anything?”
“Because my damned door was fine before you arrived.” I kick at the heavy wooden barrier in a barrage of merciless assaults that should have the thing in splinters strewn around the room ten times over.
If she’d chosen to retaliate any other way, I wouldn’t care. I know I earned her anger by leaving her behind when all she wants is to keep me safe. But this? This is a mistake.
My mind reels, recalling in dizzying detail the childhood days of being locked in the tunnels below the estate each time my aunt went away. The damp, dark passages still haunt my dreams, and sometimes, when I wake in the middle of the night, I can still smell the rot and mold. That was before I found the lower level of the tunnels. Before the estate itself seemed to take pity on me… Orbik always let me out hours before my aunt returned. I never told Liani, because it would have broken her heart.
For my own good, my uncle always said. I knew better then.
I know better now.
The Aphelian taps twice on the door. “Promise never to do that again?”
“I will say this just once. Let. Me. Out.” The glass decanter on the table next to the door begins to fog. The softest sound of cracking fills the room as the decanter chills, then freezes solid.
“As soon as you promise not to ditch me again.” She sighs, and something thumps against the door. “This is serious, Valen. If what you say is true and this group of Fae is out to get you, I can’t have you running off.”
“You have no idea what you’re doing. Open. The. Damned. Door.Now.” The decanter shatters, and frozen bits of glass scatter across the floor. The room begins to tilt and spin. I brace myself against the small table. Each breath sends a razor-sharp jab of pain through my chest. The wood beneath my grip ices over. The corners of the large mirror on the wall fill with thin veins of frost, cracking the glass midway up.
“Valen? Did something break? Are you okay?”
Fog rises around the edges of the room, the warmth in the air rebelling against the dropping temperature.
I roar and slam my fists into the wood.
My breathing grows ragged, and the ice in my body, in my heart,in my blood, takes over. Clinking and crackling, the wood before me lightens until it’s nearly transparent. The door is gone, now nothing more than a thick layer of ice. Involuntary flashbacks quicken my pulse and tighten my fists. Confinement. Darkness. Loneliness.
One strike. That’s all it takes to smash through the barrier.
Chunks of ice explode outward and rain into the hall as the Aphelian stumbles away, her mouth agape.
“If you ever do something like that again—”
For a moment—a single split second—there’s fear in her eyes. A disturbingly welcome reaction that both sickens and excites me. Perhaps a callback to the feral blood that secretly poisons my veins. Some Fae outside the estate walls are said to harbor volatile tempers and have little self-control. Depleted, we call them. Fae driven to different levels of unrest due to their magic-starved lives.
Her fear is short-lived, though, and when it dims, instead of the anger I expect, I see concern. Compassion. “I—I’m sorry. I had no idea you were afraid—”
“I’mnotafraid,” I snap, forcing myself to take a deep breath.In. Out. In. Out.This. This is what happens when I lose control. It’s bad but could have been so much worse. I could have killed her…
No, she needs to go. I don’t need more blood on my hands.
“Buri mentioned you had another Aphelian. Mika? Valen, tell me what happened to her.”
“She died early last year.” Damn Buri. Aphelians are so few in numbers, if a court Fae requests one, they’re limited to one a lifetime. Orbik never bothered with one of his own. He had the entire Winter Guard at his back. Liani had Kopic and his small group. But me? I was different.
I needed something more.
“How—” Her voice catches, and she swallows. “How did she die?”
I move a step closer. A spike of adrenaline courses through me, equal parts anger and guilt. “Her heart stopped beating.”
Because of me.
7
