Page 130 of Empire of Flame and Thorns

My flowing silver dress rustles faintly against the floor as I continue following our guide through the throne room. The dress is elegant but more lowcut than I was expecting. The wide straps of the dress rest more on the side of my shoulders than on top of them, leaving my collarbones bare. Isera’s dress is in a similar style, and several of the male dragon shifters in the room let their gazes linger on our cleavage as we pass.

I resist the urge to reach up and undo my elaborate hairdo. All of my hair has been pinned up and twisted into swirls and braids that are fastened with glittering silver pins, so there is nothing obscuring the view of my neck and collarbones and cleavage. Isera’s long black hair has been pulled up in a similar style too, and I can’t help but feel as if this was the reason for that. The Icehearts want us to feel exposed so that they can enjoy one final power play.

The rest of the people in the massive throne room are dressed in formal wear too, but as opposed to us, theirs are not exclusively made of silver fabric. Instead, all kinds of colors arerepresented among the crowd. It makes me feel as if I’m walking through a colorful sea as I continue down the main aisle with rows of courtiers spreading out on both sides.

But as we draw closer to the raised dais on the other side of the room, all of my focus narrows down to three people.

Two massive thrones, made from the same sparkling material as the rest of the castle, are positioned in the middle of the platform. Empress Jessina and Emperor Bane are seated on them. As usual, they are wearing elegant clothes in their signature silver color. Jessina’s white hair has been pinned back from her face before it flows down her back while Bane keeps his black hair falling like a straight waterfall behind him. Their silver wings are spread wide, extending far past their icy thrones.

And to their right stands a figure dressed in all black.

My heart does a backflip in my chest as my gaze lands on Draven.

Among all the fancy formal clothes, he alone wears his black dragon scale armor. His black hair has been swept back from his face as if he has just nonchalantly dragged a hand through it, and his imposing black wings loom behind his shoulders.

I study his face as we close the final distance to the dais. I expect to see anger or annoyance or a threatening glare. Or any kind of emotion. But there is nothing. His handsome face is a blank mask, and he watches me with completely expressionless eyes. As if I’m nothing more than a random person who happened to wander into the castle. As if these past few weeks never happened. As if we never happened.

Pain twists my heart.

Annoyance immediately follows it, and I shove the pain aside. Why should I care if he is looking at me as if he doesn’t even know me? He’s at the top of my list of enemies, at the top of our rebellion’s list of enemies, so none of this matters anyway.

Our guide, the man in the white suit from earlier, stops five steps in front of the dais and executes a sweeping bow. “Your Imperial Majesties, may I present the winners of this century’s Atonement Trials.”

Still bent over, he shoots the three of us a pointed stare. I snap out of my tangled thoughts and quickly drop down in a curtsy.

Someone snickers from the crowd, which causes others to do the same.

Heat creeps into my cheeks. Clenching my jaw, I try to block out their judgmental laughter and instead focus solely on the Iceheart monarchs in front of me while our guide retreats into the crowd. I straighten from my apparently terrible curtsy.

“Alistair Geller, Isera Shaw, and Selena Hale,” Emperor Bane says. His powerful voice carries across the sea of people and echoes against the glittering ice walls. “Congratulations on winning the Atonement Trials.”

We all bow our heads in acknowledgement.

“Today, your entire life will change,” he continues. “You will leave your old life behind and embark on something new.”

My heart flutters with excitement, and it takes all of my willpower to stop a wicked grin from spreading across my mouth.Oh I will be embarking on something new, alright. My mission to bring you down.

“To formally recognize you as winners, you will be presented with a gift that symbolizes your change in status,” Jessina picks up, and snaps her fingers.

Three people approach from the edge of the dais while Jessina and Bane stand up from their thrones. They start towards us with regal steps. My heart leaps and then patters against my ribs when Draven starts towards us as well.

The three people who are approaching from the sides are each carrying a small decorative cushion in a pale blue color.Something rests on top of each pillow, but I can’t see what from down here.

Only the soft swishing of Jessina’s dress breaks the silence as she, Bane, Draven, and the three people with the cushions descend the steps from the dais. They spread out before us. Emperor Bane takes up position in front of Isera and Empress Jessina comes to a halt in front of Alistair.

My heart does another ridiculous flip when Draven stops in front of me.

The three people with the cushions take up position to the right of each of them, holding out the pillow to them so that they can reach the object on top of it. I know that I should probably look at the object, but my eyes are locked on Draven’s.

Standing there in front of me, he simply watches me with that same neutral expression. I try to read any sort of emotion in his eyes, but there is nothing.

A strange sense of calm resignation washes through me. This is how our time together ends. Not with a furious fight but with cold indifference.

“You will each be given an iron collar,” Empress Jessina says. “As a symbolic representation of your servitude to us and how your years of imprisonment in the Seelie Court are now at an end.”

Her words yank me out of my thoughts, and I snap my gaze down to the object on the pillow.

Just like she said, an iron collar rests there on top of the pale blue cushion. I suppress the urge to roll my eyes at the yet again very obvious power play.

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