Kiss of Frost (The Dragon Stone Saga Book 1)(32)

“Ever, be reasonable. One celebration won’t kill you, darling.”

She almost sounds pleading, but I’m not fooled by her tone. She’s as hard as stone. Cold and calculating. Her trembling lips and shaking hand extended toward me screams of dishonesty.

“On the contrary, Mother, I’m thinking that it just might kill me. So I will go on blissfully unaware of what exactly happens at those shindigs of yours.”

As I move past her toward the door, she grabs my arm with more force than I thought her capable. She drops her “pity me” act, and I freeze. Her eyes flicker. They are constantly flitting from place to place. After a few moments they are steady on my face.

“Let go of me. Now,” I demand, my tone icy.

“Please, you must be there. If you don’t believe me, at least ask your uncle.” Nodding, her chin held high, she thrusts her shoulders back.

I stare at her, incredulous.

“Yes, I know of all of his visits. You didn’t think I did, did you?” She waves a hand in dismissal.

She can be so stuck up sometimes. She has moments of kindness. Moments I do my best to encourage. I’ve worked my ass off my entire life to get her to notice me. For her to say she is proud of me. I only ever get fleeting glimpses into her true feelings towards me.

“I didn’t think you cared either way, but fine, I will ask him. And once I have talked with him, I will consider it.”

I open the door and give her a pointed look. I can only give her so much. All she seems to do is take from me. Her request seems important to her. Which gives me pause. She might take the time to send me a letter or call me once in a while, but she has never invited me to the Light Elven Kingdom. Even when I was a child and begged and pleaded for her to take me just once, she never budged.

She huffs again, flouncing towards the door, her perfectly straight sea-green hair flowing behind her as if she creates her own personal breeze. No goodbyes, no final pleading looks—she just leaves. I plop down on the bed and cradle my aching head in my hands.

I stare down at the hardwood floors. What in the hell was that? I’m too hungover to process it at the moment.

A knock sounds on the still open door. Doyle stands there with his arms open for a hug. I narrow my eyes, fold my arms across my chest, and frown.

“That sounded fun.” He’s trying to hold a straight face…and failing. He knows about my relationship—or lack thereof—with my mother.

“How much did you hear?” I pat the space beside me on the bed.

He folds his large frame next to mine on the plain white sheets and wraps his muscular arm around my narrow shoulders. “Want the truth, or just like half of it?”

“The truth, always the truth.” I manage a small smile.

“I heard almost all of it.”

I grimace.

“So you going to marry this guy and leave all of us in the dust?”

“Fat chance. You wouldn’t survive without me.” I would never leave my team.

Doyle laughs and then locks me in a headlock. Our play fighting lightens my mood.

“You going to talk to your uncle, Ev? I don’t like the sound of this. Something is off. I can feel it.” He lets me out of the headlock, his jaw set and his tone serious.

“I know. My gut is telling me to stay far away, no matter what anyone says, even if it’s coming from Caddox.”

After we chat a bit longer about what I should say, how I should phrase it, and how I could get it to my uncle without it being intercepted, we part ways. Doyle heads off in search of breakfast, and I in search of a pen to scribble my note with. News travels fast within our tight knit group, but I also know they won’t say anything to the higher ups at MECA.

“Come in!” I look over my shoulder as I pack my clothes back in my overnight bag.

The door creaks open. Axel stands there with one shoulder against the door jam.

“S’up, Ev.” He nods and closes the door behind him.

“Doyle talk to you?” I ask.

“Yeah. That the letter right there?” He tilts his chin towards the letter clutched in my grip.

I look at the folded scrap of paper in my shaking hand. The questions asked in this letter could lead to my death, my mother’s as well. I throw my shoulders back and thrust the letter toward Axel. I level my gaze with his. My shaking fingers won’t uncurl no matter how much I want them to.

He wraps his fingers around the letter, his other hand on mine, and pulls it from my grasp with force. With the letter in his hand he turns and walks out of the room.

He knows what to do and how to get it into the right hands. I just have to trust that whoever he uses to get that letter to my uncle can’t see through paper and read the message.

With nothing left to do for the moment, I get started on my day. MECA usually frowns upon full-fledged guards walking around hungover in front of the cadets. Shortly after getting out of the shower and finding some food to calm my rolling stomach, I return to my room. I stop when I spot the note on the night stand. The paper’s thick and a round glob of wax with the royal crest on it seals it closed.

Ever,

I assure you no harm will befall to you whilst you are in the Light Elven Kingdom. Your mother believes Cashel would make a great match for you. See you soon, darling.

Truly,

Uncle Caddox

One word stands out like a glaring warning. Darling. Caddox always calls his me his little elfling, not darling. My mother calls me darling. And he has never included uncle in his letters before, always just his name. My mother must have intercepted the letter. But how? How could she have gotten this when I sent it to Caddox in the hands of one of Axel’s contacts?