Page 38 of Throne of Ice and Blood
Coming to a halt in front of his cage, I study him while my heart squeezes painfully in my chest.
There was certainly no love lost between me and Alistair during the Atonement Trials. In my opinion, he is, and always has been, a bully. During all my time in the Seelie Court, I have only ever seen him be mean and do things to make other people feel small and weak and worthless. But regardless of his previous actions, he doesn’t deservethis.
He is seated at the back of the cage where he has a full view of the door. He’s still only wearing those tight shorts that look like underwear. The only other thing he has with which to cover himself is a thin blanket. He has draped that over his shoulders so that it protects his naked back from the iron bars of the cage that he is leaning against. Seated with his knees drawn up to his chest, he tries to wrap as much of his body as possible with the parts of the blanket that remain.
It takes me another second to remember that he asked me a question. While trying to block out the pain that is strangling my heart, I crouch down so that I’m sitting on my knees in front of his cage instead of looming over it.
“Draven is out hunting a human rebel called the Red Hand,” I reply. “I managed to sneak away after he left.”
I shift my gaze to the cage right next to Alistair’s.
And that pain that I was trying to block out hits me like a blow to the chest again.
Isera is seated at the back of that cage, in the exact same way that Alistair is. With a thin blanket around her shoulders, she is sitting with her knees drawn up to her chest and leaning her back against the iron bars. She is also still only dressed in those garments that look like underwear.
But as opposed to Alistair, she isn’t looking at me. She is just staring blankly at the white ice wall across the room. Her long black hair hangs like dark curtains around her face, and her blue and silver eyes show no signs of life whatsoever. If it weren’t for the fact that I can see her chest rising and falling, I would almost believe that she was dead.
“Isera,” I say softly.
She doesn’t reply. Doesn’t look at me. Doesn’t show any sign at all that she even heard me.
Swallowing, I shift my gaze back to Alistair. “How are you holding up?”
The moment the words are out of my mouth, I want to slap myself. In the history of stupid questions, that one must surely rank in the top ten.
Alistair draws his eyebrows down in a scowl. “How do you think?”
I wince and then nod to tell him that I also realize that it was a dumb question. Then my gaze slides to Isera again. She still doesn’t reply. Just sits there, staring at the wall.
“She’s been like that ever since they put the collars on us,” Alistair supplies. His eyes soften for a fraction of a second, and he heaves a sigh. “Ever since she found out what really happened to her mother after she won the last Atonement Trials.”
“She hasn’t said anything?”
“No. She doesn’t do anything at all.” The softness is replaced by an intense flash of disgust. “When the Icehearts come, she doesn’t even try to fight back. She just lets them do whatever they want. Like she’s a fucking doll.”
“Maybe she…” Dread crashes over me when a sudden realization hits me. “Oh Goddess above. She’s claustrophobic. Intensely claustrophobic.”
Remembering her fear when we had to crawl through that tunnel during the Atonement Trials, I quickly snap my gaze back to her and try to get her to respond or look at me or in any way acknowledge that she has heard my offer to take away her fear. But she just continues staring at the ice wall on the other side of the room. I usually only do things like this if I have the other person’s permission, but since I know what is making her disassociate like this, I decide to take matters into my own hands.
Since I’m not wearing a collar, I call up my magic and shove it towards the bone white spark of fear in her chest. I expect to find it blazing like wildfire. But to my utter shock, it’s not. In fact, it’s not even there at all.
Completely stunned, I release the grip on my magic and just stare at her. She’s not feeling claustrophobic? But then why is she this… catatonic?
Alistair, who couldn’t see that I was using my magic since my head was turned towards Isera, just answers as if I haven’t already confirmed that she isn’t lost in fear at all.
“It’s not just when we’re in these cages, though,” he says. “She’s like this all the time.” He lets out something between a sigh and a humorless breath of amusement. “And then there isthat.”
Shifting my gaze back to him, I find him nodding towards the cage in the corner behind me. I turn around.
Shock crackles through me as I find a third person sitting there.
A gorgeous woman with flowing brown hair, pink and purple eyes, and a scar across her cheek and jaw is seated in the middle of the cage.
My jaw drops. “Lavendera?”
Lavendera Dawnwalker is sitting cross-legged there on the white ice floor with her hands resting in her lap. There is a collar around her throat as well, but as opposed to Isera and Alistair, she is wearing the same clothes that she wore when she was competing in the Atonement Trials with us. And as usual, she is staring into space as if she’s not really here.
But at the sound of her name, she tilts her head back down and shifts her gaze from the part of the ceiling that she was gazing at and instead fixes it on me. For a few seconds, that vacant expression remains on her features. Then she blinks hard a couple of times, and reality seems to snap back into her.
