Page 91 of Throne of Ice and Blood
“Selena,” he begins.
“Nothing is real,” I gasp out.
My chest heaves as I suck in rapid breaths that never make it past my throat. I curl my fingers into fists against the wall as my legs wobble.
“Selena,” Draven says, more forcefully this time. “You need to slow your breathing.”
But I can barely even process his words because I still can’t get any air through my throat and down into my lungs. My hands begin to tingle. Panic crackles through me. I suck in even faster breaths.
“Nothing is real,” I gasp out again. A choked sob rips from my constricted throat. “Goddess above, nothing is real.”
It all just crashes down on top of me at the same time. The truth about the Atonement Trials. What really happened to Isera’s mother and all the other fae who won. That we are biologically able to have more than one child but that the Icehearts are sterilizing us after we have given birth to one child in order to create stronger magic users. That only a small minority of our ancestors committed the crime of using dragon steel and that the rest of them were innocent. That I have been taught that I am inherently evil and that I need to atone for that when the truth is that I am being punished for a crime that has nothing to do with me. That the Unseelie King is still alive. That the Unseelie Court has been free all this time. That Draven and I are only drawn to each other because we are fated mates.
One lie after another. One shocking truth after the other. One blow after another that shatters everything I thought I knew about the world. About us. About me.
My knees buckle.
Draven’s hands immediately appear on my hip and my arm, keeping me upright.
“I can’t breathe,” I gasp out between rapid breaths that keep stopping in my throat.
“Selena.” Draven’s voice cuts through the air like the crack of a whip. Utter command pulses in his eyes as he locks them on me. “I need you to take a breath and hold it.”
“Hold it?” I press out, still sucking in rapid breaths while the panic inside me keeps mounting. My entire arms are tingling now. My hands shake and my head is spinning. “No. I need air.”
“I’ve helped soldiers through panic attacks all my life. I need you to trust me.” He braces his knee on the wall between my legs to help keep me upright while he cups my cheeks with both hands. “So take a breath and hold it.”
And his eyes are so steady, so calm and confident, that I suck in as much air as I can and then hold it. My heart pounds likea battle drum in my chest, and blood rushes in my ears. Draven keeps his eyes firmly locked on me.
“Good,” he says. “Now, let it out.”
I gasp out the air in my throat.
“Take another breath and hold it,” Draven commands.
So I do.
After a few seconds, he tells me to let it out. I obey.
“Good.” Draven takes his hands from my cheeks and instead reaches down and grips my wrists. “You need to stop your mind from spinning out of control and instead ground yourself in the present.” With steady moves, he raises my hands and places them against his bare chest. “So close your eyes, and take a deep breath, hold it for a few seconds, then let it out and tell me what you feel.”
My chest is still heaving as my instincts are telling me to breathe rapidly, but I force myself to suck in another breath and hold it. Then I close my eyes. My arms are still tingling, and it reaches all the way up to my collarbones. Draven places his hands on my hips, holding me steady. I let the breath out.
“Tell me what you feel,” Draven says.
“Your hands on my hips.”
“Good. And?”
I curl my fingers against his chest before relaxing them again and pressing my palms against his firm muscles. “Your chest.”
“Good. Take another breath.”
I draw in a breath. To my relief, this one makes it almost all the way down to my lungs. But I make myself hold it for a few seconds before letting it out again.
“Describe how it feels,” Draven says.
My mind is still spinning and trying to drag me back into that terrible panicked state, but I force myself to concentrate on only this specific moment in time. What does it feel like?
