Page 127 of Throne of Ice and Blood
My stomach turns as tiny pearls roll out of the wound in his throat.
Only when his eyes have glassed over completely and I feel my magic disconnect from the now nonexistent emotions in his chest do I dare to move from my position. The final dregs of pearls trickle out, hitting his already full mouth and roll down his cheeks before clattering across the ice floor. I scramble away from him, suddenly feeling sick.
By Mabona, that must have been a truly horrible way to die.
Drawing in a strained breath through my aching throat, I try to reorient myself. Flashing lightning and clashing steel still come from the corridor outside. Reality trickles back into me. Draven. I need to help him.
The wound in my side has mostly stopped bleeding, but blood still covers the bare skin around it. I try my best not to disturb the wound as I stagger to my feet and then hurry back towards the open door.
Four dead guards in silver armor lie scattered across the floor while Draven is fighting the remaining two close to the door. They’re coming at him from both sides, trying to force him intosplitting his focus. He moves like a shadow, whipping back and forth to meet each of their strikes right before they can hit.
I flick my gaze between the three of them. One of the guards has his back to me.
Shifting the dagger to my left hand, I sneak up behind him.
“Behind!” his companion yells as he notices me.
But it’s already too late.
I ram my dagger through the side of his neck.
The shouted warning also caused the second guard to lose sight of Draven for a moment. He gasps in a wet gurgling breath as Draven slits his throat.
Both guards collapse to the ground, their bodies twitching slightly before growing still.
Then everything is suddenly dead silent.
My chest heaves. So does Draven’s. Blood is splattered across his face and hands, and the dark gray clothes he is no doubt wearing to hide his armor underneath are stained with blood too. I have no idea if it’s his or someone else’s.
Then Draven’s gaze snaps down to the slice in my dress and the blood across my skin. He opens his mouth. But right before any words can make it out, another voice cuts through the silence.
“It’s Commander Ryat!” a voice bellows from the corner leading out into the next corridor.
Whipping my head towards it, I find a messenger standing there with wide eyes.
He stares at Draven and the slaughter around us in shock, even as he continues yelling, “He’s helping the rebels and?—”
A lightning bolt cracks through the air.
The messenger stiffens as it hits him straight in the chest. Then he topples backwards, his limbs twitching even in death.
“Fuck,” Draven growls. Dragging a blood-soaked hand through his hair, he pushes a few strands out of his face. “Hopefully no one heard that.”
Snapping out of my stupor, I lurch into motion. “We need to get to a window. Before reinforcements get here.”
“I know.” He flicks a glance towards the treasury before meeting my gaze again. “He’s dead?”
“Very.”
“Good.” After sweeping his gaze over everyone else to make sure that they’re dead too, he jerks his chin. “Then let’s go.”
Exhaustion washes over me as we sprint back through the corridor. My body is using up a lot of energy to heal that wound in my side. I need to eat something. I need to eata lot. And soon.
By some miracle, the rest of the corridors are empty.
Lavendera and the other guards must have left with the human prisoners before their companions realized that we were in the treasury.
Cold evening winds wash in through the window as Draven shoves it open fully and then turns back to me.
