Page 14 of Realm of Wind and Vines
Picking up the apple, he glances down at it in confusion and then shrugs. “Yeah, I suppose it keeps anyone away if you throw it hard enough.”
Lyra bursts out laughing. Not a measured laugh either. It’s so loud and so abrupt that she accidentally spits a little saliva on Alistair, who is sitting opposite her.
That just makes her laugh even harder.
While still laughing and gasping for breath at the same time, she leans over the table and draws her thumb over Alistair’s cheek to remove the specks of saliva before she manages to press out, “Sorry.”
Alistair blinks at her, looking stunned that she touched him so casually.
On her other side, Galen is chuckling as well while Draven lets out a huff of laughter. Even Orion appears to be fighting an amused smile. Isera just watches us all with that customary passive mask on her face while Lyra sits back down again.
Alistair and I exchange a confused glance. I have no idea why they’re laughing. It was a pretty reasonable comment, in my opinion. Why would an apple, of all things, keep a doctor away? And why would you evenwantto keep a doctor away? If there is one type of person that I would’ve wanted to have more access to in all my years in the Seelie Court, it’s a doctor.
“Alright,” Galen says, swallowing down his laughter before clearing his throat. “Should we get back to the problem at hand?”
“Right, sorry,” Lyra replies.
But a quick and secret smile, which the two of them share while Orion, Isera, and Alistair are busy stopping the fruit she suddenly shoved at them from rolling off the table, tells me that they both knew exactly what they were doing and that they’ve probably worked together to steer conversations like this many times before. I glance towards Draven.
A pang hits me in the chest when I see a brief flicker of regret on his features. He lost two hundred years of friendship withthese people because of what the Icehearts did to him. They’ve had a whole life, with private jokes and routines like this, without him.
Quickly wiping that expression off his face, he smoothens his features before Lyra and Galen can see it and instead sits up straighter. “The dryads won’t help us, so we need to adjust our plan and move forward without them.”
“What about Lavendera?” I say, voicing the plan I’ve been mulling over since yesterday. “I was thinking that we could try to turn her. If we could get her to switch sides, it would remove the Icehearts’ ability to use dragon steel. And she probably also has a lot of really valuable insider information.”
Flexing his hand, Draven cuts me a sharp look and growls, “If I want your opinion, I’ll ask for it.”
The utter disdain in his voice is like a gut punch. My lungs cease working for a second as that crushing wave of black rage and despair and hatred inside me threatens to suffocate me. That small spark of hope flickers dangerously. I cling to it, desperately willing it to survive. Because without it, I don’t thinkIwill.
“It’s a pretty good idea, though,” Alistair says, keeping his expression casual as he glances at Draven. “Worth trying.”
If I wasn’t fighting so hard not to drown in the dark ocean inside me right now, I would’ve given him a grateful smile.
“It won’t work,” Draven replies. But the sharp bite is gone from his voice now. Leaning back in his chair, he rakes a tired hand through his black hair. “If there is one thing I’m certain of, it’s that Lavendera won’t turn against the Icehearts. She’s been with them for centuries. She was there before I even became the Commander of the Dread Legion. She’s utterly loyal to them.”
I want to ask why, but I don’t want to hear Draven’s perfect voice fill with disdain and watch his eyes flare with hatred again, so I keep my mouth shut. Someone else thankfully asks, though.
“Why?” Isera asks, watching us all through slightly narrowed eyes. “Why is she so loyal to them?”
Draven shrugs. “I don’t know.”
Silence falls over our table. Morning sunlight streams in through the open door to my left, illuminating the otherwise empty room inside this massive hollowed out trunk. I shift my weight on my chair. Blowing out a small breath, I manage to force the darkness inside my soul back enough that my chest stops aching.
I still think that Lavendera is important to our plans. But unfortunately, Draven is also right. Because I have absolutely no idea how I would go about convincing Lavendera to change sides. I don’t know what she wants or why she is loyal to them. I barely even know who she is. After all, every interaction I’ve had with her has been fake. Just a part that she was playing in order to fool me into thinking that she was one of us. So for now, I push the idea of turning Lavendera against the Icehearts to the back of my mind.
“So,” Lyra begins, drawing out the word and glancing from face to face. “What do we do, then?”
“We need to convince the other clans to fight with us,” Draven says. “Our clan is powerful, but we won’t win a war against the combined might of the Silver Clan and all of the other clans as well. We need to get the others on our side.”
“Why do I feel like I’ve said that before?” Orion cuts in. Then he snaps his fingers, as if suddenly remembering something, and gives Draven a look dripping with challenge. “Oh wait, it’s becauseI did.”
Draven opens his mouth to no doubt snap back at him, but before another argument can begin, Alistair thankfully interrupts.
“We still also need to figure out what the hell that partnership between fae and dragon shifters is,” he says. “If the Icehearts have gone to these lengths to suppress any knowledge of it, it must be important.”
“Agreed,” Draven replies.
Orion locks intelligent eyes on Isera. “Don’tyouknow? You’re a descendant of the Seelie Queen. This is the sort of royal knowledge that should have been passed down through the generations. Even in secret.” His eyes narrow. “Unless you’re not actually a descendant of the Seelie Queen?”
