Page 65 of Throne of Ice and Blood
“Then what do you call that?” He stabs a hand towards the corridor no longer visible to our left. “Azaroth’s flame, I shouldjust put you in black armor too, because you’re as bad as my own clan at just following simple orders that are for your own protection.”
“Maybe you should,” I bait. “That way, there would be no question who I belong to.”
“There has never been a question about that.”
“Really? I thought you just said that you weren’t jealous and territorial when it comes to me.”
He opens his mouth to retort, but then his gaze darts down the corridor. A moment later, I hear it too. Footsteps. Coming this way.
Shifting his gaze back to me, he rakes his hands through his hair and lets out a long sigh. “Let’s save this argument for later. Right now, we need to get to my clan’s barracks and brief them on today’s plan.”
“To catch the Red Hand,” I fill in. It’s half statement, half question, but Draven answers anyway.
“Yes, to catch the Red Hand.”
And before either of us can say anything else, two courtiers round the corner. They blink at us in surprise. Draven simply starts walking while assuming that I will follow. And since he is unfortunately right that we need to keep up appearances, I do exactly that.
The walk to his clan barracks is a tense and quiet one. And all the way there, I stew in silence and curse his interruption back there.
By giving the guard cleaning duty as punishment for just speaking to me, Draven has now made sure that none of the guards from the Silver Dragon Clan are going to dare to talk to me. Which means that I can’t get the information I need. And all just because of his stupid jealous bullshit.
I glance at Draven from the corner of my eye as we enter the barracks of the Black Dragon Clan.
He wants to be a territorial asshole? Fine. I’ll be a fucking menace too.
“Listen up,” Draven calls as he strides into the massive room where his soldiers have gathered. “We will be trying a different strategy today.”
While Draven begins explaining their orders for the day, I slink away towards one of the changing rooms that are connected to the main room. A few of the shifters cast curious glances at me when I pass them, but no one stops me. And Draven knows that there is no exit there, so he just keeps giving orders as well.
I slip into the empty changing room. People have left their normal clothes neatly folded on shelves above the empty armor stands that line the stone walls. Coming to a halt right inside the door, I quickly begin stripping off my own clothes.
If there is any place where I can do something like this as revenge, it’s here. Draven’s clan won’t sell him out to the Icehearts, so whatever happens in this barrack will stay in this barrack.
I know that I’m being petty and stupid, but I’m frustrated that he ruined my chances to get information from the guards in the palace and I want to get back at him. Publicly. And besides, there is something that I want to hear him say out loud. Something that I want him to admit. Even though it doesn’t matter. Even though I shouldn’t care. Even though it won’t change anything. But I still want to hear him say it.
After stripping down to my underwear, which leaves very little to the imagination, I straighten my spine and raise my chin in a confident posture even though my heart is suddenly pounding in my chest.
And then I stride straight back into the main room.
For a few seconds, Draven just keeps issuing orders, and everyone else only continues watching him.
I walk farther into the room.
Then the first few soldiers begin glancing at me. They do a double take when they realize what I’m wearing. Or rather, not wearing. Armor creaks faintly as one after the other, they all turn to stare at me.
Draven notices the commotion and finally flicks a glance in my direction.
He too does a double take.
His mouth hanging open, he stares at me with such an almost comical look of shock and disbelief on his face that I almost laugh out loud at the sight of it.
But I only get to enjoy that for a few mere seconds. Then his expression darkens like an oncoming storm.
“Eyes down!” he bellows across the room. “Anyone who raises his eyes will get them carved out.”
All the men in the room quickly jerk their heads back and drop their gazes to the floor. And all the women too.
Lightning flashes in Draven’s eyes, and he flexes his hand down by his side, as he advances on me. His soldiers part before him like water before an unforgiving mountain.
