Frozen Fear Book. 2

❅Chapter 13❅

The Bairfell Palace was a huge structure made out of massive bricks, beautifully stained windows, and no doubt hours of back-breaking work. And the inside was just as beautiful, if not more so than the outside. All tall ceilings and sweeping corridors trimmed in gold and silver, it was enough to make even the Gods cry.

Our booted footsteps echoed through the Great Hall as we followed the soldiers, our hands hovering and itching to draw our blades. I, of course, didn't have one. But it seemed as if everyone else did. But that didn't bother me as much as you'd think, simply because using anything other than my magic felt clunky and awkward. The only blade I'd even had was my wakizashi. Sebastian had it crafted for me.

But it too, was in the walls of Gheimhridh.

Just the thought of something else I loved trapped within those haunting halls made my heart ache.

I'd been to the Bairfell Palace only twice before. Once, when I'd first been abducted and forced to train as a witch in the Academy. Second, when I had to take my element test to see what element, Fire, Earth, Water, Air, Dawn, Day, or Night, called to me. Then, I had to stand before all seven Sages, my father included, though I hadn't be aware of that information at the time. I'd never done anything terrifying in my life.

And here I was, about to do it again.

The Great Hall bled into another smaller, thinner corridor that had two large double doors stationed at the end of the hall. Two more troops of the Order were standing there, their hands clasped together behind their backs. They regarded us with mild interest, until they saw Akan, however.

Once they spotted the Sage of Water, their backs seemed to crack as they straightened so fast. Their eyes glazed over as they bowed in his presence, begging his forgiveness for not recognizing him sooner.

It would've made me sick if it wasn't for some new, foreign part of me that seemed to be shrieking for the same power. The same respect.

We are different, something whispered my mind, its voice like raven claws scraping against my skull. I cringed, but it continued. We are Death, and we will not go away empty.

Akan commanded the men to open the door, and they did as they were told, their eyes glued to my face as they did so.

I gathered myself, willing my face into a cool, unreadable mask I'd seen Foster wear so many times before. It must've worked because as I passed, the witches shrank back just a fraction of an inch, their faces paling. I smiled.

The grin dropped from my face as we entered the Throne Room, faces of the most powerful witches pointed in our direction. The Throne Room was just as I remembered, giant pillars holding up the massive ceiling above, intricate arrangements of ivy and leaves dipped in gold and red. The floral arrangements winked at me in the afternoon light.

We stopped on the Order's symbol, which had been etched into the marble floor we were walking on.

"Akan, you've returned." Medeia O'Neill purred, her voice as smooth as silk. She was as beautiful as always, her long dark hair pulled back to show off her wondrous cheekbones, her topaz eyes lined in black. They were just as searing and heated as her sons, the madness behind them a heavy weight on your chest if she happened to catch you under her gaze.

Her calculating eyes missed nearly nothing as she took in the small group of fae standing behind my father, until her golden eyes landed on me. Electricity filled the room, causing the hair on my body to stand on end. I saw Genius's fingers twitch towards his sword, his face tight with apprehension. Medeia must've caught it too, for she smoothed out her features and spoke. Her voice dropped into a hoarse whisper, as if she was trying to hold herself back. "And you've brought company."