Page 132 of Fated to the Frost King

“Dra–” I started to warn him, but the dagger bit closer into my skin.

“Ah ah. You have your secrets, and we have ours.”

No.

The male who had first shot the arrow at me stepped closer, raising his bow. Six others stepped from the shadows, holding identical weapons.

My ring went cold.

They weren’t just any arrows. They were made of rowanwood, and tipped in cold-iron. That’s who the Unseelie were. Savage creatures who made even more savage weapons.They didn’t fight fair, they didn’t play by Fate’s rules. They devoured and destroyed.

Panic surged through me. Draven was a barely contained storm, but his green eyes were fixed on the blade at my neck instead of the weapons aimed at him.

The clearing was silent, but for Zerina’s pained gasps and the frantic murmurs of the Unseelie male trying to staunch the flow of blood.

Tension thrummed through the air, both sides paralyzed with the implications of making a move.

Death for yourself. Death for someone you loved.Why did everything come down to death?

“Don’t,” I whispered, not sure if I was talking to them or to him.

Don’t let them hurt you.

Don’t spill more blood in the snow, not for me. Not like this.

I couldn’t stomach losing a single other person I cared about. Hadn’t Fate taken enough from me?

Two of the warriors crept closer to him, obscuring him from my view. My breaths came faster, my hand uselessly clutching the arm that held the dagger.

Then, an Unseelie female shifted, just enough to broadcast her intent. She stood across the clearing, closest to the treeline, further than I could hope to get even if I managed my way out of my captor’s grasp.

No.

Vengeance shone from her eyes, and the worst part was, I understood why. Shards, weeks ago, I might have thanked her for it. I knew what it was to look at him and see nothing but the blood he had spilled. The frozen bodies in the snow. An heiress shattering across a marble floor.

But I also saw a body stepping in front of me, shielding me from every kind of monster. Warm arms sliding over myshoulders. Gentle fingers tracing my scars and running through my blood-soaked hair.

Maybe Draven was a monster in his own right, but he was my monster.

Mine.

She hadn’t fired yet. There was still time.

I wouldn't let them hurt him, even if he despised me for it in the end.

It happened in a single blink.

I closed my eyes, letting every ounce of my panic and fury flood my veins. I let it sear through me like a wildfire, scorching underneath my skin. My nails sharpened into silvery talons, and my back screamed in protest as I finally gave in to what my body had been begging me for from the day I ran away from home.

I dug my nails into the Unseelie’s arm just as my wings tore free from my back. Pain lanced through me, followed instantly by relief and the sound of fabric ripping.

I took advantage of the distraction of the threat of the claw on my wings stabbing him to move away from my captor.

He cried out, but I didn’t give the Skaldwing time to react. Instead, I launched forward like an arrow unto myself, tightening my wings and twisting up in the air for momentum just as the female loosed her own volley.

An arrow whirled through the air, the high-pitched whine echoing in my ears like death knells.

Close. I was so close.

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