Page 101 of Throne of Ice and Blood
I completed my mission and found the entrance to the tunnel.
But at what cost?
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
When we at last close the door to his rooms behind us, Draven looks like he’s about to pass out. The guard in the corridor at the other end of the emergency escape tunnel tried to lecture us that we weren’t authorized to use that tunnel. But then he took one look at Draven’s ruined wings and promptly snapped his mouth shut. He didn’t even ask what happened. Just let us walk out of there. Which makes me think that it’s not the first time the shifters from the Silver Dragon Clan have seen Draven like this. And that makes me want to set something on fire.
Draven sways on his feet as I guide him towards the closest couch. With every step through the tunnel and then the castle, he has been transferring more and more of his weight to me. I don’t think he’s even aware of it. But moving must have been causing him enormous amounts of pain, especially since he has been forced to drag his already shredded wings along the rough floor the entire time, so I just grit my teeth against the strain that the weight of his massive body is causing on mine and support him as much as I can as I haul him the final distance to the couch.
When I finally set him down so that he is seated on it, his eyes are sliding in and out of focus.
After gently easing his arm off my shoulders, I move so that I’m standing right in front of him where he sits on the couch. Then I drop down to my knees between his spread legs.
“Remove my collar,” I say. It’s not a request. It’s an order.
Draven blinks hard, trying to focus on my face. Dragging in an unsteady breath, he grits his teeth and lifts his hands towards my throat. He fumbles several times before he finally manages to take the iron collar off. It slips from his fingers and hits the dark wooden floorboards with a thud.
The moment that it’s off, I summon my magic and latch on to the violet flame of pain in his chest.
A gasp rips from my throat.
His pain is so strong that my vision blacks out and my lungs cease working. Scrambling to remember my training, I desperately try to slam up that mental wall that I use to separate my own emotions from what other people are feeling.
Draven’s hand shoots up and grips my jaw, and his voice is panicked when he demands, “Does this hurt you?”
I finally slam the mental wall in place, cutting his searing pain off from my own senses. My heart still pounds from the memory of that intense mind-shattering agony, and I have to drag in a deep breath to center myself. Then I shove everything I have into decreasing the roaring flame of pain in Draven’s chest.
Normally, I decrease emotions slower and at a steadier pace. But I can’t function knowing that Draven is enduring this kind of world-ending pain, so I just snuff it out in one giant push. Like slamming the lid onto a burning pot. It requires an enormous amount of magical energy, but I don’t even care anymore.
Especially not when a gasp of pure relief rips from Draven’s chest.
I keep pouring my magic into him, forcing the pain to stay like that. Like the tiniest of sparks that he will barely be able to feel.
Then his eyes snap back to mine, and he tightens his grip on my jaw while urgency bleeds into his tone. “Answer me. Does taking away my pain hurt you?”
“No,” I reply, holding his gaze steadily.
It’s almost the truth, anyway. While decreasing his pain, I can still feel it. But because I’ve spent over a century and a half developing my powers, I can also keep it there behind my mental wall. I know it’s there, but I also recognize that the feeling doesn’t belong to me, so it doesn’t affect me in the way that it would him.
Draven keeps staring down at me, as if trying to read any lies in my eyes. But since it is more or less the truth, he finally drags in another deep breath and nods. Releasing my chin, he looks from side to side at the torn and bloody wings that droop down over the edges of the couch to brush against the floor. He clenches his jaw, as if bracing himself, and then tentatively raises his wings.
Shock pulses across his face when he manages to lift them up so that they are resting against the soft cushions of the couch instead.
He turns his stunned gaze to me. “I don’t feel any pain. At all.”
“I know,” I reply.
In the dim light of the room, my glowing eyes light up his face and reflect in his own eyes. I keep pouring my magic into him. 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.”
He cups my cheek with one hand while an answering smile tugs at his own lips. My spine tingles as he brushes his thumb over my cheekbone. The way he is looking at me is making my heart beat erratically.
Bracing my palms on his thighs, I push myself up from the floor between his knees and move to one side. He blinks in surprise as I throw one leg over his thighs and then sit down so that I’m straddling his lap instead.
“What are you doing?” he asks, his voice still barely more than a whisper.
