Page 118 of Throne of Ice and Blood
I shift my gaze to the front of the room, where a raised dais is located. Atop it are two thrones made of carved ice. Emperor Bane and Empress Jessina are seated on top of them, their massive silver wings spread wide and their fancy silver garments glittering in the faelights.
Then a clock chimes, marking that another full hour has passed.
A ripple goes through the gathered crowd.
I draw in a sharp breath as I watch a female dragon shifter in purple armor detach herself from a group farther down and start towards the raised dais. It’s the leader of the Purple Dragon Clan. The clan who ambushed and tried to kill Draven out on the mountainside.
Everyone seems to be holding their breath as she comes to a halt on the floor in front of the two ice thrones. Jessina and Bane look down at her with haughty expressions. She lowers herself to one knee and bows her head.
“I, Diana Artemisia, do hereby renew my oaths of loyalty and swear allegiance to the Iceheart Dynasty on behalf of the Purple Dragon Clan,” she says, her voice carrying across the sea of silent spectators.
I shift my gaze to Jessina and Bane, who say nothing. A ripple of worry goes through the crowd. When Gremar Fireclaw, the leader of the Red Dragon Clan, swore his allegiance an hour ago, they accepted it straight away. But not this time.
“Diana,” Empress Jessina says, drawing out the syllables as if she is talking to a small and stupid child. “Did you really think that would be enough? After the…disrespectyour clan showed us last week.”
Most people don’t know about the Purple Clan’s attack on Draven, but Diana most certainly does. However, she says nothing. Only remains on one knee with her head bowed.
“If you want to earn our forgiveness,” Emperor Bane picks up, a vicious smile spreading across his lips, “you need to grovel for it.”
Diana drops down on both knees and presses her forehead to the floor. I swallow down the bile rising in my throat as I watchher grovel for forgiveness at their feet. Once the Icehearts are finally satisfied, they let her return to her people.
But no other clan leader steps forward. Everyone just continues standing there on the polished ice floor, nervously drinking sparkling wine and watching each other and their monarchs. The tension in the room is so thick that I could have cut it with a knife.
“Why are they drawing it out like this?” I whisper to Draven.
Draven has been standing right next to me like this for the past two hours. After what he said back in his bedroom, I had expected him to move around the crowd more. But he hasn’t left my side for one single second. And that is now starting to worry me.
The heist began the moment that the ball did. That was two hours ago, which means that the humans must have at least reached the entrance to the tunnel out there on the mountainside. If they moved fast, they might already be inside the palace. Once they’re done emptying the treasury, they’re going to create a distraction so that the rest of us will have a chance to slip away in the chaos. But I won’t be able to do that if Draven remains glued to my side all evening.
“It’s a power play,” Draven replies. “They only let one clan swear allegiance every hour so that it will take eight hours to get through us all. And we can’t enjoy ourselves at the ball in the meantime, because no one is in a festive mood. All we can do is to just stand here in tense silence for eight hours. It’s a psychological trick to wear us down and demonstrate the kind of power they have over us.”
I turn to glance at him in surprise. “That’s… terrifyingly clever.”
He lets out a humorless breath. “I know. I’m the one who suggested it.”
The doors to the patio are shoved open, shattering the crackling silence. A broad-shouldered man in brown dragon scale armor stalks outside in what looks like frustration.
That finally breaks the spell. A murmur spreads through the room as everyone starts talking softly. No one is dancing or having fun, but they’re at least speaking and moving around now. I draw in a deep breath as the tension in the room eases a little.
A few moments later, Galen comes striding towards us from the direction that the leader of the Brown Dragon Clan came from before he stalked out onto the patio. I move a little to the side to give them space while Galen comes to a halt in front of Draven.
Galen flicks a discreet but pointed glance towards the still open doors to the patio, and when he speaks, he keeps his voice low enough that only we can hear. “He says that he won’t do it. Says that the stones will bend before he does.”
“The Brown Clan is being stubborn?” Draven lets out a huff of amusement and rolls his eyes. “What a shocker.”
A smile begins forming on Galen’s mouth. “I know, right?”
Then, as if he suddenly remembers that he’s not supposed to be friends with Draven anymore, he snaps his mouth shut and wipes any trace of amusement off his features. His brows pull down into a scowl instead.
Draven’s behavior immediately changes as well. He straightens his spine, and that blank mask descends over his face as he looks back at Galen with commanding eyes.
“I’ll handle it,” Draven declares. Then he jerks his chin towards the main door instead. “Take all of our people and go back to the barracks.”
The scowl on Galen’s face deepens. “Why?”
“Since when do you question orders?”
“Since you became a spineless coward.”
