CHAPTER 36

I scratched at Tarron's body as he tried to push himself from the floor and out of my grasp. I could hardly make sense of where we'd travelled to. And I didn't care either. All I needed to know was the pain I caused Tarron as my fingers left vicious ice burns across his skin. Magic flowed from my touch, tainting the air and dropping the temperature, so our forced, heavy breaths came out in white puffs.

"Enough," he warned, hissing as my fingers wrapped around his wrist to stop the slap he threw towards me. "This does not need to play out this way."

"I will… never stop," I replied through a growl, trying to make sense of the place around me, whilst not taking my full attention off Tarron. Deep within, I felt a kernel of relief to be in a room full of natural light, not in the box of never-ending darkness. But that feeling was short-lived as Tarron changed his tactic from defence to attack.

Tarron hoisted his legs between us and kicked out like a bucking horse. The wind was knocked from my stomach as I fell back. There was nothing I could do to stop the back of my skull from colliding with the floor.

Ignoring the pain and the taste of blood across my tongue, I pushed myself up to see Tarron heaving laboured breaths. We were in his chamber in Farrador. I had longed to return to this city over the past days, and now, seeing the familiar walls and floors, it was jarring, a dream brought to life.

But the fight was not over yet.

Tarron sliced two fingers down the air between us.

"Your attempt, though valiant, is wasted. You will not ruin this for me. For my family. Back to your box until I am ready to forgive you." The portal conjured into existence inches before me. "In. Now."

"You really don't know me well at all. Not that it matters now, but you really should have gotten to know me better if you hoped to blindly woo me into doing as you please." I wanted to laugh at him as the portal showed me a vision of the dark room we'd only just left.

Dread crept into the corners of my mind, but the storm of frozen winds kept it at bay. Slowly, I pushed myself to stand, looking to the portal, then to Tarron and then to the closed-door; beyond it must have been guards, someone to come in and stop this. I could shout, give my return away, but then I wouldn't get the chance to unleash my wrath upon him.

"I never do as I am told," I said, fuelled by the uncontrolled storm inside of me.

The spindle of light slammed closed, sealing off the dark room. Tarron studied me, hands ready by his sides, fingers twitching with anticipation. I did the same, allowing the magic inside of me to grow until my ribs felt as though they would explode. The pressure was painful but oddly welcoming, as though the days I'd been disconnected from it caused the magic to have a sense of urgency. What discomfort it provided me was only a promise of what it could do to Tarron.

"What are you going to do?" he asked, tilting his head with a smile so ominous it made the shape of his face change for a moment. "Kill me? Doing so would start a civil war. And unlike you, my father has the power and numbers ready for just that. All you have is empty lands. You have nothing. No mother. No siblings. No followers. And soon enough, no father."

"I could hurt you," I answered, trying to ignore his threat to my father's life. "Until you wish you were dead."

Tarron shook his head, tangles of long, brown curls shifting dramatically across his shoulders. "Untrained as a fawn. I have been patient and held back for your sake. For our sake. But I understand now that you leave me with no choice but to end this, just as my court attempted all those years ago."

I could taste the honesty in his promise. It should've made me reconsider my rushed plan, but instead, it only urged me to see it through with even more desperation.

"As much as I wish to see you dead," I said, lip curling, "I'm not stupid enough to see it through."

Tarron risked a step forward, a glow of golden light starting to twist around his hands. "If not stupid, then what are you?"

"Robin Icethorn," I answered, grinning as he flinched at the announcement of my name. "Sincerest apologies for ruining all your hard work, Tarron. But all good things come to those who deserve them, and you deserve fuck all."

Tarron pounced forward, a beam of light splitting from his hands until it solidified into a blade. I couldn't control my power as he did, call upon it in ways that would counter his attack. So, I did the only thing I knew I could do with my magic.

Let go.

Throwing my arms wide, I released the magic within me. My feral scream mixed with the sudden rush of frozen winds that exploded from me in a circlet of mist and wind.

Tarron was torn from his feet by the blast, alongside furniture which had been picked up in the winds. As one, they crashed into walls, the sound of cracking wood mixed with something that tore a scream of agony from the princeling.

The windows rattled beneath the pressure until they couldn't withstand it.

I threw my hands above my head as the glass shattered, each window exploding and raining shards beyond the room. Onward my power pushed, past the limitations of the room, until I filled the air beyond the castle.

This was my signal. My cry for aid. If Erix, or Althea, or anyone who cared for my disappearance wanted to find me, I was now a beacon of winter, begging to be found.

The winds calmed, and with that, I felt exhaustion take hold. I would've dropped to my knees if I didn't see Tarron clambering to his feet once again. He was like a bug, flipped upon its back but always trying to right himself.

He just kept coming.

Tarron's eyes were wide, and his lips moved frantically, but I couldn't hear him over the cold winds that poured from my skin.

He raised a hand, catching my attention for a moment. A burst of sudden, bright light blinded me. I stumbled back, eyes stinging from the flash. Then hands were on me, reaching for my neck with a sure grip.

I couldn't open my eyes to see him, for the darkness of my mind was a safe place. But I didn't need my sight to fight back. I slapped and scratched at his hold, trying to stop him from squeezing tighter.

"You will die, and I will be blamed. But still, it's no crime besides a simple, mundane fey dying by my hands. You are not an Icethorn, not yet, and I won't allow that to ever happen." I could not breathe, not as his thumbs pushed into my windpipe until his nails cut into the skin. "I will go on trial and face punishment, but that will pass quickly, and my army will march long before your body is buried. Die knowing you had the choice to live by my grace. Die knowing that I chose peace with you, and you chose this ."

Opening my eyes when the blinding light was gone, I kicked out, but my energy was dwindling. Each blink was heavier… slower. His grip tightened more than I believed possible, but still, I would look towards the door of his room, wishing, waiting for someone to come through.

I kept the cold magic alive, forcing it through my weakening touch as I left marks of ice down his cheeks, his dishevelled curls crisping as my chill cascaded over him.

Tarron never faltered. He hardly cared as his skin turned a dark red, to an almost black from frostbite. In the reflection of his large, frantic, azure gaze, I saw my own self looking back, hopelessly giving in to the death he wished so greatly for me to succumb to.

A tear slipped down his cheek. It was an odd thing to witness of one's self. As I watched it slither down his skin, I forgot the need for air in my lungs.

I crumpled to the floor, retching as air flooded back into my lungs. Although the phantom of his touch still lingered over the skin across my neck, the pressure was gone.

Tarron had let go of me.

I heard someone say his name. Gulping for air, I looked up to see a figure standing in the open doorway. My vision was doubled and fuzzy. I squinted, trying to make out details but could only see that Tarron stood before me, facing whoever had entered.

"Here comes the hero," Tarron shouted, deep voice breaking with panic. "What are you going to do? Stop me?"

The figure stepped forward, silhouette blurred by shadows. Although my hearing rang as if bells tolled within them, I began to recognise the rumbling feminine voice of the speaker. "Step away from him. Let it end without any more unnecessary pain."

Sharp, bright blades of light conjured back into Tarron's hands as he readied himself into a fighting stance before me. His body was a shield, keeping the second visitor from reaching me.

"Lay another finger on his head, and I will destroy you. It is over.""

I didn't need to question who just threatened Tarron.

"You forget who you speak to, berserker. This is far from over. It has only just begun."

Berserker – that nickname alone revealed to me who was here.

Erix had found me.

"The room will soon be swarmed–"

"And I will welcome them all!" Tarron spat. "You can all watch as I end his life and allow the war we have planned to proceed. I do this for us. I do this for you."

My sight steadied with each long blink. Soon enough, I could see the figure for who she was. Gyah. Dressed in her guard uniform, decorated with weapons at her waist that she didn't reach for, not as she negotiated calmly for my life to be spared. Gyah stared at me with concern, then back to Tarron, where her gaze changed to controlled hate.

"This has gone on long enough," Gyah scorned, as though she spoke to a child.

Shouts reached us from the open doorway. Tarron noticed, releasing a grunt of annoyance as he frantically looked between Gyah and the door. "And what, dear girl, are you going to do about it?"

He levelled his blade of light towards Gyah, looking down the sharpened edge through narrowed eyes. I wanted to reach for him, but my arms were heavy and unmoving. Still, my lungs clawed for breath as though his hands still gripped my throat.

She didn't flinch as he presented the blade between them. Instead, the outline of her frame wavered, and she spoke as though two voices dwelled within her. "I admit, I have always wondered what an Oakstorm tasted like…"

Gyah shifted before our eyes, skin melting to shadow and returning in the leathery, scaled body of her Eldrae form. But it was what Tarron required, a moment to move without the threat of her pouncing.

In the seconds it took for her skin to become scales, Tarron turned on me, gripped me by the scruff of my shirt and hoisted me from the floor.

"They want a show." He split the air, conjuring a portal. This time I was powerless to stop it. "Then that is what I shall give them."

Gyah stretched her wings, releasing a terrifying roar that rocked the ice-covered room. She was quick, but Tarron was quicker. He yanked me towards the portal as her talon-tipped wings gorged into stone. With a blade of hot, burning light pressing to my back, I could do nothing but allow myself to be taken.

The wide, spit-covered jaws flashed before us for a moment, then the portal closed, and the vision of the creature vanished.

I readied myself to be welcomed by the darkness of my prison, but I was quickly proven otherwise. Noise greeted us as Tarron dragged me through his spindle of light, into a large room bustling with life.

Voices of chatter and chaos silenced as we suddenly stood among them. A crowd, faces of wealth and power adorned with crowns and garbed in gowns and uniforms, stood back from us until we were circled by all of them.

I looked over their faces of disbelief and horror, searching for someone, anyone who would help. But the glowing blade was now inches beneath my chin. One sure swipe, and my skin would meet its edge.

"Tarron Oakstorm. You dare bring violence into my court? Against an Icethorn on the day of the Passing." Queen Lyra pushed herself through the crowd, eyes aglow with an inner fire. Her auburn hair spilt over her brass-toned gown, held back from her face by the circlet of golden thorns and vines upon her head, metal shaped into leaves that glittered with gems of amber and ruby. "Under the nature and rule of these lands, I command you to let him go."

"I am your equal. You do not control me," Tarron shouted back, nails digging into my shoulder. "One step closer, and this will end before you all."

"Do you need a reminder as to whose court you reside in?" Her voice was full of fury, so much so that the many flames alight across the grand chandelier above flickered. The crowd reacted audibly, shying away from the reaching flames.

"I am doing this for us . What is one life if it means our future is secured? You all knew nothing of this boy before. He is as unimportant as he was when you did not know of his existence. Stopping me would be a far greater crime than the loss of his life." As he spoke over the crowd, we watched as decorated fey guards pushed through their ranks, forming a barrier of blades and shields between the fey and us. Queen Lyra refused to be pushed behind their lines. Slowly, other crowned figures stepped through to join her side. Fey who I'd not seen before but I could understand the power they held. I recognised it, like for like.

There were three of them. Two tall men with dark bronze skin and strong facial features holding hands; both wore circlets of what looked to be droplets of static rain made from azure crystals. And the third, his features swollen but familiar, long curling dark hair, except thin and tangled, unlike his son's. It was Tarron's father. Doran Oakstorm. It had to be, without question.

His stomach pushed out at his shirt and jacket, pulling buttons apart from one another as though they would split. His crown was worn and dull, as though the gold had been mistreated over years, forgotten. And unlike the others around him, his stare was hungry and full of disgust whilst he regarded me.

"Release him, Tarron Oakstorm," one of the other men said, letting go of his hold on the man at his side. Slowly, he moved a hand for a curved blade at his hip. "This is not the place for such discord. Do not defile the Passing, doing so will only offend Altar."

"Silence yourself, Peta." The gruff voice of Tarron's father stammered awkwardly. He spoke as though he needed to cough years of grime and dirt from his throat. The sound scratched at my ears. "You have petitioned for the war to proceed, let my son ensure that nothing threatens those plans again."

"The death of an Icethorn is not required. There are other ways–"

"Always with your search for peace!" Tarron called out, screaming like a petulant child. "I gave Robin that choice, and he decided to refuse it. You want this war as much as the next."

All eyes fell upon me where I squirmed weakly in Tarron's hold.

Peta squared his shoulders at the short, round frame of the Oakstorm King. "Not at the sake of his life. I would prefer order and balance given the chance, and you currently are holding that outcome in your hands."

"Are you all forgetting the lives the humans have taken? The many who have been slain and taken. Loved ones separated. What they did to the Icethorn–"

"The humans didn't kill my mother–" I was silenced by the hissing of my own skin as Tarron's blade pressed into me, with the edge so close I feared to swallow.

"Let him speak," Queen Lyra growled deeply.

Tarron didn't listen. Instead, his lips pressed close to my ears, tickling the soft skin as he whispered. "You brought this upon yourself, Robin. As your life spills before them all, know that this is your doing. It could've been different. So different. But you chose not to comply."

As Tarron spoke, his hand released my shoulder and moved flat down my back. His touch made me want to cringe away, but the blade at my throat kept me in place. I tried to call upon my magic, but it was too weak to aid me.

"Finish it," Doran Oakstorm commanded his son.

"Stop this now!" Queen Lyra said, voice pinched in worry as she predicted what was to follow.

Then a new shout joined, just as a flash of heat spread from my back and through my stomach before me. I looked down, suddenly uncaring for the blade at my throat. It didn't matter as I inspected the bloodied tip of the new bright, glowing sword of light that exposed itself through my centre. In a flash, it was gone, my hands left in the space where it had been to catch the droplets of blood that began to spill from the wound.

Tarron's presence was ripped away, at least that was what I thought. I couldn't move to see what had happened, not as the numbness spread from my stomach outwards across my body.

I fell before Queen Lyra could reach me, knees clattering to the ground. Where I should have felt pain at the connection of bone against the stone floor, I felt nothing.

"I have got you, dear boy." Queen Lyra guided me into her arms, holding my head up with hands covered in blood. My blood. Her lips were moving, but it sounded as if my head was kept underwater.

Guards rushed forward in a wave, and my head slowly turned to follow them.

Tarron was splayed across the floor, feet twitching but the rest of him oddly still. Was it the person straddling his waist that kept him immobile? Or was it the raining of fists, crashing down without break or rhythm, into Tarron's face, that had that effect? The slamming of fists thudded through the very ground with each connection. Blood sprayed, spoiling into the air and filling it with a copper tang. I could taste Tarron's blood alongside my own. And I was choking on it, spluttering gore out my mouth as my lungs filled and I coughed.

The attacker above Tarron turned to me as guards reached for his board shoulders and hauled him off. Eyes of silver stood out against the dark, unforgiving shadows around them, a face of tension pinched in horror as he looked at me.

Erix.

I mouthed his name, wondering why I couldn't hear myself. I tried to lift a hand to reach for him, but I dared not remove it from the pumping wound on my stomach.

Erix fought free of the guards, fists slick with dark blood. He was shouting, but I couldn't grasp a sound. I focused on his lips, the edges of my gaze closing in with shadows. It took countless guards to hold Erix at bay. I tried to keep my focus on him, but each blink was becoming longer. I was beginning to believe I'd never open my eyes again.

This time the darkness wouldn't relent.

I heard it echoing in my mind softly. It welcomed me, luring me into the peace that could only be death. My name spoken by a symphony of voices. It was my mother, her light voice urging me towards her, calling me to join. Flashes of her dark hair blew across her hidden face, but I knew she was smiling, welcoming me into her arms once again.

"Robin, Robin, Robin."