Page 53 of Throne of Ice and Blood
The banquet hall has gone suddenly dead quiet. I can feel everyone’s eyes on me. It’s so intense that it feels like they’re burning holes through my body. All I want to do is to scream at them. Or cut their eyes out with a knife. But I know that I have no other choice.
So I do as he says.
And crawl on my hands and knees to his feet.
Laughter erupts from somewhere halfway down the room. The moment that first burst of laughter shatters the silence, other courtiers start snickering as well.
My cheeks burn with humiliation, and rage strangles my throat. I can barely breathe through the fury as I come to a halt in front of Draven’s black boots and sit back on my knees again.
“Bow,” he orders, his voice dripping with command.
Sliding my hands closer to his boots, I bend forward and press my forehead against the cool ice floor.
Another wave of cruel laughter ripples through the courtiers. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to block it out.
Emperor Bane lets out a mocking chuckle. “So pathetic. So weak. Without their dragon steel, they’re nothing.”
It takes everything I have to stop myself from snapping back that without their iron collars,theyare nothing. If they weren’t covered in iron, Isera and Alistair could probably take out half of the courtiers in this room with their fire and ice magic before the courtiers could even shift into their dragon forms.
“I can’t wait until we’ve broken ours enough that they will willingly grovel in public,” he says.
Ours. As if Isera and Alistair are nothing more than toys. Possessions to use and abuse. Suddenly, I’m glad that my forehead is pressed against the floor, because I don’t think I would have been able to stop the rage from showing on my face. Even though my life depends on it.
“Your boots look a little dirty, Draven,” Empress Jessina suddenly says. Her voice is full of challenge and wicked glee. “Tell her to lick them.”
Ice spreads through my veins. She wants me to dowhatnow?
Raising my head, I look up at Draven. But I already know what I’m going to see. A ruthless uncaring mask on his face. A mask that fools everyone. Everyone except me.
His voice is just as hard and merciless as before when he commands, “Lick my boots.”
And because I know that I have no other choice than to see our little act through all the way to the end, I bow down again and lick his boots, just like he ordered me to.
Anger pulses through my whole soul. I am going to kill them for this. I am going to kill them all for this.
Jessina laughs. As do most of the other courtiers.
“Excellent work, Draven,” the satisfied empress says. “Thank you for that little demonstration. It will surely be remembered as the highlight of the night. You may take your seat.”
One second passes, probably while he bowed to the two of them, then he grabs me by the arm and practically yanks me up from the floor. I stumble the first few steps as he hauls me with him while he strides across the room. Once I have gotten my feet properly on the floor again, I pull discreetly against his grip to let him know that he can release me now. He doesn’t.
I glance up at him.
The moment that we reach a spot where our faces are no longer visible to anyone, he clenches his jaw and flexes his hand while fury so cold that it could’ve frozen the sun itself crackles across his features. He looks like he’s going to murder someone.
“You will need to sit on your knees next to my chair,” he whispers as we make our way towards the table closest to the high table, but his words come out more like a growl. “We need to stay for at least an hour before it’s acceptable for us to leave. But I need to get out of here for a few minutes first. Otherwise, I won’t make it through that hour without killing everyone in this room. You need to stay, or they will get suspicious. So just sit there. I will be back soon.”
Before I can even reply, we reach the table we were heading for.
Shock pulses through me when I realize that the table is full of Draven’s people.
His former best friend, Galen, is sitting to the right of the only empty seat, which is at the head of the table. And Lyra, that cheerful shifter with wavy brown hair and orange eyes, is seated opposite him. Both of them are wearing black. As are eight more people sitting beside them at the long table.
All of them watch Draven with outright hostility in their eyes.
“I can’t believe you made her do that,” Galen hisses under his breath as Draven pulls me to a stop to the right of his empty seat at the head of the table. “In front of everyone. Have you at last lost your final shred of?—”
“Shut up,” Draven snarls. Lightning flashes in his eyes, and he turns to me. Finally releasing my arm, he snaps his fingers and points at the floor. “Sit.”
