Five soldiers dressed in black furs guarded the thrones, swords at their hips, but as in the Court of Sorrows, little weeds grew between the cracks in the floor. The soldiers ran at me, but I summoned thick, spiky vines. The vines snaked around the guards, and their swords clattered on the floor.
Locked within the ropes of plants, they shouted for backup. From behind, an arrow zipped past me, too close for comfort.
I whirled around. Zooming in on the little weeds by the door, I summoned them, bigger, higher, until they wove together to form a barrier to shield me from oncoming arrows.
With a hammering heart, I flew above the fallen soldiers and touched down behind Torin’s throne. Winter light poured in through stained glass windows, washing the shattered throne in deep shades of gold and blue.
Brushing my fingertips over the frigid stones, I envisioned the shattered throne coming together. Warm magic skimmed over my body, kissing my skin.
Slowly, roots grew between the fragments, pulling and knitting them together. Magic hummed and buzzed up my spine, making my heart race and my body glow. Piece by piece, the throne came together, the roots tightening, burrowing into the stones until it was half stone, half root, like Mab’s castle. Like an Unseelie throne…
Moss grew between the cracks until at last, a living throne stood, slightly misshapen but intact .
On the other side of my plant shield, soldiers hacked at the barrier.
I pivoted, my wings carrying me into the air. With a boot through the stained glass, I kicked my way out into the winter day. Glass shattered around me in shards of colored light.
A frozen wind whipped at me as I swept outside. On the wind, I heard the sound of screams. I tuned in to the noise, adrenaline sparking through my nerves.
What horrors was Moria unleashing?
39
TORIN
The dragon’s fire blasted onto the water. At first, it felt like a warm bath, a relief from the ice. My toes thawed, and my muscles relaxed. Then, it became a punishing bath, the kind of bath that Ava enjoyed. The water grew warmer until it felt like how I imagined a volcanic lake. With Modron’s magic, it reached my shoulders, coils of steam twisting around me in a thick fog.
I grimaced, bracing for more heat. But just as I thought it was about to scald my skin permanently, icy power ripped through me. My ice magic surged through my veins, and strength pumped through my blood. My thoughts swam with wild euphoria.
When my throne had broken, the loss of my magic had felt like losing one of my senses. Now, it crashed back into me with a sharper focus than ever before. The power of it was almost overwhelming, vibrating through my bones. Cold magic spilled from my body, cooling the steaming river water .
Had the gods blessed me?
I snapped the chains that bound my wrists, keeping my hands hidden under the water. The moment Moria realized I was free, she would circle over me with the Sinach and set me ablaze.
Mist billowed around me. Once the water reached my neck, I ripped off the collar that bound me to the pole.
I dipped under the murky surface, sending icy currents out from my body. I swam through twisting streams of muddy river water—some currents surging with heat, others chilled by my magic. But with ice and dragon fire mingling together, the heat was bearable.
When I was close to the dais, I rose from the water and exploded with frost. Glacial wrath poured from my body. This was my kingdom, and I would protect it from these monsters, from the nightmarish shadows encroaching on it.
The Sinach roared, breathing fire onto me, but I blocked it with ice. A brutal stream of hoarfrost burst from my chest, extinguishing the dragon’s flames. Frost rippled over the creature’s scales, and it recoiled.
Moria leaped onto the creature’s back, and the Sinach took off into the skies, maroon-black scales gleaming with ice. As I climbed onto the dais, I searched for Modron. The old crone had already disappeared. The spectators in the stands were running, searching for exits.
The Sword of Whispers echoed inside my skull. I needed to get my hand on its hilt.
I raced down the exterior stairs of the amphitheater, following the Sinach on foot. I ran barefoot through the snow, but the cold no longer touched me.
I raced through the wind in my tattered white clothes. To my left, dark, bare trees lined the snowy fields, the castle a small shadow against the white expanse.
I pumped my arms, legs burning with exertion. Snow kicked up around me as I sprinted. I could run fast, but not nearly fast enough to keep up with the Sinach.
What had happened to give me my power back? Aeron, perhaps.
I didn’t have time to mull it over because Moria and her Sinach were circling again, the dragon’s frosted scales gleaming under the dull winter sky. Like King Caerleon, she’d try to burn me to death.