Page 80 of Throne of Ice and Blood
“I don’t know yet,” I reply to Nysara’s question.
“Then come back and tell me when you do.” She stabs a hand towards a door at the other end of the hall. “Now, get out.”
Loud pounding comes from the front door again.
I give Nysara a nod and then dart towards the back door. Pulling my hood up, I unlock the door and slip out.
“Karleus,” Nysara says from inside the house. Her voice is now husky and seductive. “What in Azaroth’s name are you doing here at this time of night?”
“I saw the light burning in your window,” the man, Karleus, replies. “And I thought you might have fallen ill or injured yourself or that you had forgotten to blow out the candles and I was worried that?—”
I quietly close the back door behind me and sprint across the lawn.
Cold night winds tug at my cloak as I jump over the small stone fence at the back of Nysara’s property and then disappear down the street in the other direction.
One mission done.
Once we get out of the castle, we now have a way out of the city.
But my work tonight is not finished. I’m going to turn this whole damn city into a boiling pot of anger and resentment, so that when the humans pull off their heist, it will be the spark that sets an entire rebellion ablaze.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Warmth from the roaring hearth flows across the already packed tavern, making me sweat underneath my thick black cloak. I push the fabric away from my legs and arms as much as I can where I’m seated in one of the booths at the back of the room. But unfortunately, I can’t lower the hood since it’s the only thing keeping my pointed ears and my glowing two-colored eyes hidden from the rest of the patrons here.
While cupping my hands around a mug of ale that I swiped from a deserted table when I arrived, I keep my head slightly bowed to further shield my eyes from view as I continue to pour my magic into the pale red flames of anger that now burn intently in everyone’s chests.
When I got here, most humans in this tavern were just tired from a long day at work. Some were even in a fairly good mood. But after a few strategic whispers to a few strategic tables in the middle, and a steady stream of my magic, this entire tavern is now pulsing with pent-up rage. I keep feeding it.
“We need to do something,” a human man whispers to his companion at the table next to mine. “This is our city. It was our city long before the Icehearts came with their Silver Clan and took everything. Our ancestors built it with their sweat andblood and tears. And now, we are second-class citizens in our own home. We need to take it back.”
His companion nods, but there is worry in his voice when he replies, “I agree. But would we even stand a chance? They’re fucking dragons, mate.”
“I know. But we are the majority.”
I let the connection to everyone’s anger fade and instead push at the tiny sparks of courage in these two men’s chests. Pouring my magic into them, I let those courageous sparks flare into wildfires.
The first man thumps his fist against the table while determination pulses across his face. “Come on, let’s start tonight. I have an idea.”
Chairs scrape against the wooden floorboards as the two of them shoot to their feet and stride towards the door with determined steps.
Bowing my head even more, I hide the villainous smile that spreads across my lips.
All around me, people are discussing and arguing and complaining with angry voices. Even though I have already cut off my steady flow of magic, the effect of it still remains. Because once I blow that spark of rage into a massive fire, it takes time for it to die down on its own.
Firelight from the hearth flickers across the pale wooden furniture and the angry faces all around me. I can’t hear what all groups are saying, but because I set the stage with my strategic whispers earlier, I’m assuming that most of them are angry at the Iceheart Dynasty.
“Azaroth’s flame, I hate them so fucking much,” a male voice snaps to my left.
My heart leaps into my throat. Only dragon shifters curse by Azaroth. While still keeping my head down and my hood up, I discreetly glance towards the left.
The empty table where the two human men used to sit is still unoccupied, which now allows me to see the table behind it. Four male dragon shifters are seated there. Two with brown hair, one with blond hair, and one with silver hair. All of them look incredibly angry.
I curse silently in my mind. I didn’t know that there were dragon shifters in this tavern too. When I manipulated people’s anger, I did it to everyone in here since that was the most efficient option. But that means that I have been increasing these dragon shifters’ anger as well.
“If they hadn’t used dragon steel on us, we wouldn’t have to live in this fucking city full of dirty, wrinkly, and uncivilized humans,” the brown-haired one with orange eyes continues.
“That’s right,” the blond one growls while clenching his fist. “If we didn’t have to fight that fucking war to free ourselves, we wouldn’t have had to burn our ancestral lands to the ground.”
