Throne of Ice and Blood (Flame and Thorns, #2)

by Marion Blackwood

He stares at me as if I’m the Goddess Mabona herself. As if I’m the most extraordinary thing he has ever seen in his entire life. “Thank you,” he breathes, his voice choked and full of deep gratitude. A small smile blows across my lips. “You’re welcome, Shadow of Death.”

“You are mine. It’s time the world knows that.”

It’s just me and him. His hands on my body. His eyes, burning with desire, on mine. I can feel his very soul calling to mine, and all I want to do is to grab the front of his armor and yank his stupid troublesome mouth down to mine and kiss him until he can’t

“Fuck, you’re so pretty when you beg.”

He keeps fucking me hard and dominantly and completely without mercy. Exactly the way I want him to. As if I am, and always has been, his.

Draven watches it all. Drinking it in. His eyes sear through me as he studies every emotion on my face, as if he is burning it into his mind forever.

“I am a selfish person, Selena.” He lets out a long breath that ruffles my hair. “And as much as I wanted to make sure that you never won the Atonement Trials, I’m secretly glad that you were stubborn and brilliant enough to win it despite all my sabotaging.” My heart slams against my ribs. He draws in a deep breath, breathing me in, and tightens his arms around me. “Because it allowed me to have this time with you.”

Despite Draven’s adamant refusal to leave or do anything to fight the Icehearts, he has still helped me in every way he could. He has saved my life more than once. He has protected me from torture and humiliation. He has made my life here in the Ice Palace bearable. And deep inside that broken heart of mine, I know that he doesn’t deserve this. He doesn’t deserve to be left behind to take the blame for our crimes. He doesn’t deserve to be betrayed like this. Especially not by me.

I still don’t know how much of what I feel for Draven is real and how much is just forced on me by the mate bond. But Goddess above, I know one thing. Betraying him tonight is going to shatter what’s left of my heart.

Draven is… Draven. Powerful, skilled, ruthless Draven with his massive wings and his storm magic and his skills with a sword. If he were to catch us, I don’t think even I would be able to convince him to let Hector go. Not after all of the pain and humiliation he has suffered because of his failure to capture him.

“This is the only way! Draven won’t let them kill me. But he will kill you. He has been hunting you day and night for months! You are the face of the rebellion. I’m not. They need you. We all need you.”

Because it’s not Hector who stares back at me from underneath the mask. It’s Draven Ryat.

Draven Ryat is the Red Hand.

“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.”

“That’s why 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.”

“That day when you threw your drink in my face.” His gaze remains focused on the needle, but I can hear the truth clang in every word as he says, “I was one of the people in masks running down the stairs. After ditching the mask and cloak, I came back in through the side door to stall the patrol. And then I found you there.”

“I have watched you for years. Seen the way you always try to help and always put everyone else first. And seen how people distrust you and hate you for something that isn’t your fault. And I felt a connection. I knew that I had found someone who understood what it’s like to be hated for something that you haven’t chosen.”

“I tried to get you promoted,” he says. “To move you up the chain and into more important positions in the resistance. But the other leaders didn’t trust you. They refused. And because I can’t be there all the time, I needed them to work efficiently without me so that I could get you all to finally launch your rebellion to bring down the Icehearts. So I had to let you remain a lookout.” He ties off the thread and then puts the needle back on the table. “But I watched you.”

“I’ve been falling for you for years, from afar, but then I truly got to know you during the Atonement Trials.” A wistful smile blows across his handsome face. “And then that day when you patted my cheek and said good talk, I fell in love with you utterly and completely.”

Draven motherfucking ryat

“I was trying to protect you.” Then he draws in a deep breath and meets my gaze head on. “But I was wrong. You don’t need protecting.” A wicked smile, full of approval, spreads across his face. “It’s the world that needs protection from you.”

“Do you know why I never used the half-shift during those first six years?” Draven cuts him off, frustration lacing his every word. Galen frowns and shakes his head in confusion. “Because you were being submissive and letting them show dominance?” “Because they whipped my wings. Every day. For six fucking years.”

“Since before they even landed on our island,” Draven replies, finally answering Galen’s question. “An entire horde of them ambushed me when I was out training. They tied me up and used Lavendera to put the dragon steel in. Then they made her order me in advance to publicly surrender when they came back days later.”

We did it. We got out. Isera and Alistair are free. Draven is free. The entire Black Dragon Clan is free. I am free.