9. Maddy

Chapter 9

Maddy

O n Tuesday, when everyone else goes off to practice magic, I head to the forge. I'm looking forward to putting the finishing touches on my shield. I want to finish it today, and the thought of holding it in my hands when it's complete is making me smile.

Also, a secret part of me wonders if putting the bear on the center of it will be enough to bring her back, but I didn't admit that to Sarra.

I'm so desperate to see her again that I'm starting to think about her almost as much as Kain—although she hasn't made it into my dreams yet.

I work in the forge all morning, and I'm gloriously engrossed in what I'm doing. In fact, I'm so focused that I don't notice I've left a molten-hot hammer just to the side of me—until I set my arm down on it.

I scream as the skin is seared from my flesh and agony engulfs me.

And then something incredible happens. Frost forms over my skin, instantly dousing the pain and the heat.

I stare in astonishment at my cradled forearm as the frost glistens and shines, solidifying into ice and reversing the angry red burn.

Somebody bursts through the door, and I snap my head up.

It's Kain.

He stares at my arm a beat, then his eyes rove over me—looking for other injuries, perhaps? They linger where my leather apron is tied tight around my ill-fitting clothes, accentuating my curves, then move back to my now-shining limb before settling on my face.

"You screamed."

"I… I burned myself."

With an effort, I pull my gaze from him, then raise my arm slowly. I wiggle my frozen fingers, and the cracking sound the ice makes brings a smile to my face. I look back at Kain and wave my arm.

"It's frozen."

"I see that." He's tense; his black shirt stretches across his taut shoulders and his hands are balled into fists.

"You don't like ice?" I guess. I wiggle my fingers again, marveling as the ice moves with them, cracking but staying adhered to my skin. Frost is still working its way up my arm.

"Ice is fine," he growls. "Your magic must have awakened with the arrival of your val-tivar ."

I snap my eyes back to him. "Really? Do you think that's what it is?"

He shrugs one solid shoulder. "Unless you've been lying about using ice magic all this time."

I scowl at him. "You know I haven't."

"Can you control it?" he asks.

I look at my arm, narrowing my eyes in concentration as I will the frost to cover just my hand, and melt around my forearm. Nothing happens.

"It's turning blue. Does it hurt?" I can't tell if there's concern in Kain's tone, but it's definitely strained.

"No," I say with a sigh. "It feels good. I forgot how good the cold feels. It's been such a long time."

"It's been three weeks."

I throw him a glare. "We're not going back to the pampered princess horseshit. I miss my home, and that's allowed, so fuck you."

"Fuck me?" He takes a step toward me, eyes flaring. "Oh, princess, you keep standing there, wide-eyed and excited, sighing in pleasure like that, and I'll turn that 'fuck you' into a 'fuck me' the whole of Featherblade can hear."

My cheeks flame as my core turns molten.

"Stop it," I whisper, seizing as much control as I can, even as his heated gaze burns through my self-control. "I know what you're doing. You're trying to take advantage of"—I wave my frozen arm around—"of whatever this attraction between us is! But it won't work. I'm not helping you."

I am certain the desire in his face is real, but a bitter laugh escapes his lips. Lips I would cross hot coals to touch right now. To have on me. All of me.

"And what would I gain from that, princess?" He raises his own arm, which is gloved. "I can't lay a finger on you, even if you begged me to."

I would beg. Fuck, I'd do anything. But he's right. He can't touch another living person. His skin is cursed. Even if I threw myself at him, he couldn't touch me.

The sound of dripping water rings through the silence, and I glance down. My arm is melting. Reality filters through the haze of arousal.

Ice magic. I just accidentally used ice magic.

I jut my chin out, trying to clamp down the desperation swirling through my body, refusing to let myself squirm. "Go away." The words lack any conviction at all.

"No."

I glare at him and reach for a blanket to dry my arm.

"You said that you would help me into the vault if I told you why I was punished?"

His words freeze me as fast as the ice did my arm.

I nod, but I don't actually know if it's true. I'm just desperate to find out what he did.

Is he truly a villain?

Does it even matter at this point? If he is so bitter he will kill for revenge, then surely that makes him a villain regardless?

"Liar," he says. But he doesn't hiss or spit the word, as he has done in the past. "You know, curiosity is a dangerous thing. And I'm fairly sure, foolish princess, that it will be your downfall. "

The blackouts will be my downfall. But I don't say that to him. "Tell me what you did."

"Why? So you can judge me? Decide whether or not I'm entitled to my revenge?"

Yes . "No."

"Then to sate your curiosity?" The bitter smile returns, and my stomach tightens. There's something that could be cruelty in that expression. Something vicious. "My past is not something for you to play with, little ice-fae."

I glare at him and move my hand to grab my hip indignantly, but a squeak of surprise escapes me when water flicks from it, spraying down his face and over the exposed skin at the neck of his shirt.

He looks down, and I swear I hear a sizzle over the sound of my racing heart. When he looks back at me, the bitterness is gone.

"You should probably ask Brynhild for help with your new magic."

My face reacts before I can stop it. "I'd rather freeze to death than ask that hideous witch for help."

His lips quirk. "Tell me your secret, and I'll tell you mine."

"I'm not keeping anything secret."

He shakes his head slowly. "I can play this game with you, princess. I'm a patient male. Far more patient than you, I'll wager."

A fucking wasp is more patient than me. But I'll never tell him about my memory magic. Not even to find out what he did. "Move on, Kain. Go find somebody else to irritate."

"Oh, princess, there's nobody else. Trust me." He lifts a gloved hand and runs his fingers through his tangled hair, exposing a long scar across the right side of his forehead.

I instantly want to touch it. Ask him how it got there. Hurt whoever hurt him.

The last thought shocks me enough that I step backward into the counter. He cocks his head at me, the hair falling back over his shoulder.

"Sigrun will be here soon. I'll find a way to make you help me before then."

When I don't reply, he saunters from the forge.