Page 30 of Throne of Ice and Blood
Lyra grins at him. “Someone who wants to win.”
“You only won because you cheated.”
“Oh, come now, Galen.” She winks at him. “Don’t be such a sore loser.”
“Sore loser? Me?” Draven’s former best friend, Galen, presses a hand to his chest in a show of exaggerated shock.“You’re one to talk. You’re like the most competitive person I’ve ever met.” He hikes his thumb towards a man farther down the table. “Poor Finlay over there still wishes that he had let you win in that last sparring match because of how much grief you’ve been giving him over it.”
Another wave of laughter ripples through the room, and the woman seated next to Lyra elbows her in the ribs while Lyra rolls her eyes.
I shift my gaze back to Draven, who is still standing unmoving in the shadows. His eyes are fixed on Galen and Lyra and the others, but the expression on his face is as unreadable as ever. I desperately want to reach out with my magic and push at different emotions so that I can figure out what he’s really feeling. But because we had to leave Draven’s rooms, he had to put the collar back on me.
For a second, I consider just asking him outright if he’s okay. But before I can make a decision, he abruptly drags in a breath and then steps out of the shadows and straight in through the doorway.
Every conversation cuts off the moment he becomes visible.
The dead silence that spreads like a plague through the room is so jarring that I almost forget to follow Draven into the room. All signs of merriment and all sounds of joy have evaporated within a matter of seconds.
Draven strides straight up to that smaller table at the front of the room and takes up position behind it. Since I’m not entirely sure what I’m supposed to be doing, I linger by the wall right inside the doorway. But none of the shifters look at me. Instead, all of them drop their gazes and bow their heads to Draven.
“First order of business, before we can start eating,” Draven says without preamble. His powerful voice echoes through the massive stone room. “We have new orders.”
His clan members raise their heads to look at him.
And it takes all of my willpower to stop a gasp from escaping my throat.
There is no companionship, no respect, no warmth, in any of their eyes when they look at him. Instead, their expressions are full of resentment. And not just any resentment. It’s so strong that I can practically feel their acidic hatred even without using my magic. And so obvious that it’s impossible to miss.
It shocks me to my core. After that conversation I eavesdropped on back in the Seelie Court, I knew that some of the people in Draven’s clan resent him. But I thought they did it in secret. They don’t. They resent him, and they don’t even try to hide it. And I thought it was only some of his clan members. But it’s not. It’s all of them.
Completely stunned, all I can do is to stare at the hatred visible on everyone’s features as they watch Draven.
Draven, on the other hand, either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. That same blank mask of ruthless authority never leaves his face as he sweeps his gaze over all of his people.
“The Red Hand is back,” he announces. “And we have been tasked with finding him.”
Most people just let out an annoyed sigh, but at the front of the room, Galen clenches his jaw and squeezes his hand into a fist.
“We’ll focus on the human parts of town,” Draven continues. “Don’t waste time on being gentle. If they don’t answer, make them answer.”
I snap my gaze to Draven, staring at him while anger pulses through me. And apparently, I’m not the only one. The resentment in the room is now so palpable that I can almost feel it vibrating against my skin.
“If we—” Draven begins.
Galen slams his fist down on the table, cutting him off. “Again with the Red Hand! Can’t you just accept that you lost to him?”
The whole room sucks in a collective breath, and half of the soldiers turn to stare at Galen in shock. As if they can’t believe that he dared to say that out loud.
Dead silence spreads across the room following his outburst.
Draven, whose expression still hasn’t changed, slides his gaze to his former best friend. “What was that?”
Galen shoves to his feet. Anger pulses in his violet eyes as he glares back at Draven. “You heard me. You’re fixating on the Red Hand just because he’s the only one who has ever managed to outsmart you. And I’m tired of hurting people just to salvage your pride.” He squeezes both hands into fists. “If anything, we should behelpingthe Red Hand.”
This time, people outright gasp. Even Lyra, the spirited woman who was teasing him before, tries to reach out and grab his arm to pull him back down in his seat. But Galen doesn’t back down. Fury flickers in his eyes as he holds Draven’s gaze.
I stare at Galen as well. Suggesting that they should be helping the Red Hand is just one word away from outright treason.
Draven takes a slow step to the side. The entire room seems to be holding its breath as he rounds the table and starts towards his former best friend.
