Page 64 of A Sword of Ice
She could tell a lot about the way someone treated an animal, and the fact that he was willing to go through these lengths, and not just for her, but for others? She had felt the way disgust roiled from his body with each passing stall. She saw the way his hands had clenched. Despite his own feelings, he’d acted calm, steady, and he’d talked her down from doing something impulsive and destructive.
Now, she would see just how many bodies he left in the pathway to save the other part of her soul.
Once the plan was set in motion, they broke up into groups again, Shula and Iona together and the males heading off in different directions. Before Iona and Shula made way towards the cage where they were keeping her familiar, Ryker stopped his mate with a touch on her arm.
Iona tried not to notice the way Shula seemed to tense near the male. Or the way they were silent, saying nothing. But they did look deep into each other’s eyes, silent words of communication passing between the both of them. It seemed conversation enough. When they pulled away and Shula made it to Iona’s side, Iona looked to the other Fae.
“Everything okay?”
Shula seemed surprised that Iona would ask, her eyes widening a fraction, the expression quickly veiled by the pressing hard lines of her features. “Everything’s fine,” she replied absently.
Iona wasn’t inclined to believe her, but she didn’t ask. Instead they moved forward. They walked in relative silence, the closer they got to the city, the tenser things became. By the time they reached the alley near her familiar’s cage, Iona’s whole body was vibrating with anticipation and fury.
The Kurreen were no longer torturing him, but men were posted outside of the cage, slumped near it, joking. As if they hadn’t a care in the world while the fresh blood of Iona’s familiar still stained their spears and whips.
She would rip them apart.
The thought came as vicious as the tidal wave that had pulled her under the depths so many years ago.
Her familiar was in a corner of the cage, his body hunched, bleeding and afraid. Iona’s gaze stayed on him for the longest time, willing him to understand that she was coming for him, hoping he could feel her through their bond.
Then he looked up, eyes focusing on the spot where she was standing, and she swore he could see her hiding in the shadows, the expression marring her features murderous and ready for blood. Her whole body quivered with the thrilling thirst for their lives.
She wanted to rush to him. The urge was right there, simmering beneath her blood, demanding retribution, but she had to force herself to wait. Julius had promised a distraction. A safe way to get her familiar out.
But she waited.
And waited.
She tried not to let her impatience show, but her fingers pressed incessantly against her thighs and her breathing grew almost shallow.
Then, almost imperceptibly, there was a shout from the crowded market. Her attention was dragged away for a brief moment to find two figures ramming into each other, hooded cloaks up to hide their faces. But Iona swore she caught the gleam of canines flashing beneath the shadows.
She could just make out Clay’s and Julius’ voices, rising in challenge. Then the scrape of steel followed by the clang of weapons clashing. A crowd had gathered to watch the commotion and instead of breaking it up, they placed bets and jeered. As if this was an everyday occurrence that didn’t bother them. In fact, they seemed to relish in the violence and promise of death.
The West Isles were bathed in violence and blood. It only made sense the people were, too.
“Now!” Iona urged, darting from the shadows.
Shula followed behind her, but she didn’t turn to the fire Fae as she made her way to the men surrounding her familiar’s cage.
Their eyes strayed to her absently, as they were more focused on the fight beyond, and she didn’t lower her hood so they could look into her eyes. She saw them just fine, and that was enough. Her magic shot out and a sword formed in her hand.
They gasped at the sight, tripping over one another as they fell backwards onto the ground. She froze them in place, letting ice coat its way along their feet to keep them pinned in place before she advanced.
Her sword of ice reamed through their flesh, and those who decided to scream found their tongues scorched by Shula’s fire. They choked on fire and blood; their silent screams of agony lost to the violence ripping through the air. When the life finally left them, it was their tombs made of ice that trapped their miserable souls in place.
Ice crept up and coated the locks on the cage, and Iona brought the hilt of her sword swinging down against the lock, shattering it to pieces.
She didn’t ask Shula to cover her as she went inside. She trusted this Fae, too.
Her familiar stood as she approached, and she tried not to cry at the sight of his body, worse than when he’d arrived at the zoo. Whole clunks of skin and fur were missing, his eye crusted over with blood, and when his mouth opened, two teeth were missing.
A sob lodged up her throat. “I’m so sorry.” She held her hands out, slow to approach. She knew what it felt like when people went towards her just a little too fast. How quickly the mind could flash back to a different time of cruelty and pain. She wouldn’t cause him anymore.
He lowered his head slightly and she heard a voice through her mind. No, not her mind, she realized. Through her soul.
It was not your fault.
