The Cursed Queen (The Impostor Queen #2)(102)
I aim the dagger at him, focusing on the beating pulse in his neck. “Let her go, or you’re the one who will be on the ground.”
He laughs. “You seem to forget that I’ve watched you for weeks. If you aim your magic at me, you’ll kill Thyra as well. You’re a storm, Ansa. You’ll take everyone down with you.”
A drop of fear slips icy down my back as my chieftain’s blue eyes meet mine. Suddenly I’m in the fight circle on a new spring day, and I’m bleeding and hurting and defeated as Sander walks away from me, and hers is the one voice I hear shouting for me to get up. Like I could that day, I can read the simple faith written across the planes of her cheekbones, etched into the curve of her mouth.
A distant horn blows once, and then again, pulling Nisse’s lips into a lethal grin. “And now we’re out of time,” he says, pressing a hard kiss against Thyra’s bleeding temple.
He draws back his blade, preparing to cut her throat.
“I love you, Thyra,” I whisper, and then I let the magic loose, fueled by devotion and determination and all the adoration that’s in me, powered by hope in the future and acceptance, finally, of who I have become. The ice winds along the blade of Sander’s dagger, but this time, instead of focusing on its progress, I focus on my target. It’s the size of my fingertip.
Nisse’s jugular.
As his weapon descends, I thrust my blade forward, even though I know the iron will never touch his flesh.
Nisse makes a strangled grunt and his dagger swings away from Thyra. One hand claws at his frozen throat as he staggers back, the weapon falling from his hand as it grasps desperately for something to stop his collision with the edge.
His fingers find the back of Thyra’s tunic. Her mouth drops open as she reaches for me, and I lunge forward as both of them tumble and fall.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
My hands close around her ankles. A rending yank from below pulls me forward, and for a moment I know I am heading over the edge as well, but I refuse to let go of her. She is mine, and I am hers. Her wolf, her blanket, her fire, her dagger. And then I am jerked to a halt, and I glance over my shoulder to see ice fastened like manacles around my ankles, spread over the floor of the tower, rooting me in place.
My fingers dig into the leather of her boots as she screams. In the courtyard, so far below us, Nisse’s body hits hard, falling only feet from where Sander lies, still and broken. All around them are black-robed fighters, swords drawn, staring up at us. Maybe waiting for us to fall too.
“I’ve got you,” I say from between gritted teeth.
She lets out a laugh. A laugh. “I know.” Her flesh slips beneath the thick shield of her boots, and she screams again. My fingers grasp at her with white knuckles, and ice grows from my fingertips, snaking around her ankles.
I gaze at it with wonder. “I’m pulling you up.”
With my feet fastened and Thyra’s ankles encased in ice, it’s now up to me to bring my chieftain to safety. My body is so torn, a faulty, fragile vessel for the magic that has brought us both to this point. But it has been my ally for far longer than the fire and ice that have now made me their temporary home. I draw in a breath and pull, ignoring the agony of my legs, my back, my arms, my chest. I tug until my rear sits on my ice-encased heels, until Thyra’s knees rest on the edge.
“Up to you now, Chieftain. Can you sit up?”
She grunts, and I can feel her effort as her trunk rises off the wall of the tower, as she brings herself up and up, and as she reaches for me. Like it understands what I need, the ice around my right hand, the arm that bears the cuff, melts instantly, and I grasp her hand, our fingers entwining. I pull her back, and the ice around my ankles melts and turns to steam as I land on my back with her on top of me.
It is the best feeling in the world, and it makes all my pain disappear. She strokes my hair back. “I thought you would be furious when you discovered that Halina deceived you.”
“I deserved to be deceived. I refused to help you reach our warriors. You did what you had to do.”
She kisses my forehead, and the feel of her lips is heaven itself. “I had no idea Kauko was going to take your blood. I would have found a way to warn you.”
“Sig tried.”
“Thank heaven for him.”
I hope heaven is not where he is right now. “Will our warriors be safe?”
She lays her forehead on mine. “I hope so. I told them to stay where they were and hold the barricades. With any luck we’ll find them alive. And hungry, probably.”
“Will they be able to help us when Jaspar and the other warriors lay siege to this tower?”
“They’ll do all they can, I have no doubt. They have proven their loyalty time and time again. My father’s memory is clearly a powerful thing.”
“It’s not just his memory,” I say, stroking her cheek. “You gave them something to believe in, however foreign and strange it might be.”
She smiles. “I had no idea how dangerous peace truly was, but I’ll fight for it anyway.”
That is why I love her. It’s why I don’t care that we aren’t really meant to be mated. It’s why I crave this moment like water and air. It’s why I draw her down and press my mouth to hers. And when she moans and parts her lips, a taste of heaven is my reward. My magic simmers and shivers inside me, drawn tight and chaotic by the churn of want surging along my bones, but with the cuff of Astia around my wrist, the storm is quelled, and our kiss is just that. Because we are reconciled, because the magic is part of me now, maybe it recognizes her as someone I could never hurt, someone I would die to save.