Frozen Fear Book. 2

❅Chapter 22❅

There was someone new snipping flowers in the garden today. At first I was wary - was this my visitor? He was small, very thin, and had pale blue skin the color of the sky on an overcast day. His eyes were bright red rubies surrounded by thick, dark lashes and his lips were thin - pressed into a small line. His arms looked as frail as some of the brittle, dead branches we clipped on a daily basis. After a few hours of silence as thick as a tree trunk between us, though, I figured he was here for different reasons.

The ogres didn't say a word to him either. But normally, if any of us spoke and it was about something other than our work, it would result in a lash across our bare backs. I'd accumulated a handful of thick scars. I had one gash that had just scabbed over, pulling the skin taut across my shoulder blades.

Ever since the incident with Bungo, the ogres regarded me with solemn respect. For a brief moment I wondered what had come of Bungo. I hadn't seen him around since that day.

A curse sounded from my right, followed by a cry of pain as the crack of a whip split open the air. The new boy's eyes were bright with pain as he slumped to his knees. His back was bowed against the fire no doubt resonating from the opened wound. I ground my teeth so hard my jaw ached. He also cradled his hand against his chest. With closer inspection I saw a blue well between his fingers of his closed fists. He must've cut his hand on the sheers.

I was getting so sick and tired of this.

An elvin knight barked a command that I couldn't hear over the pulse pounding in my ears. I couldn't see his face behind his metal helmet, but I had no doubt it was twisted into a villainous snarl. With a growl of my own, I threw my own sheers into the snow at my feet. They landed with nothing more than a whisper and a puff of white. Nobody looked at me.

The elf raised his arm, the whip in his hand snaking back in the air, ready to come back down at a deadly angle. In the sunlight bright blue shimmered on its leathery exterior.

Crack!

Another pain infused shriek.

Crack!

I snarled, stomping over to the elf who held the whip. He stopped mid stroke to look at me. I caught a whisper of a smirk stretched over his lips under his visor, but I still couldn't see his face. "Get back to work."

I knew that voice. I'd had a few nightmares about its owner in the past few nights. Hearing it now made a colony of ants clamber and wriggle under my skin and through my veins.

Without warning, my lips pulled back over my teeth. I hissed his direction. "Brood."

He froze. Without warning, he reached up and ripped the helmet off his face. What I saw ripped my breath away.

The ear I had grabbed in my cell was no longer there, but a gaping, festering hole in the side of his skull. I hadn't thought that I tore it off. And by the looks of it, Dain had done a number to his nose. It was completely bent the opposite way, a deep blue and purple bruised smoked under his skin. Two of his front teeth were missing as he sneered at me.

"Get back to work, Princess."

Stepping in front of the wounded boy, I planted my feet, squaring my shoulders. "Bite me."

Brood licked his lips, his eyes roaming down my body. Flashes flew across the screen of my mind - him on top of me, my legs spread and my pants across the cell in a heap. I suppressed a shiver and gritted my teeth.

"I can arrange that," he whispered, his breath hitching.

A whimper came from behind me. I turned ever so slightly to catch a glimpse of the boy trying to stand. He wore the same white outfit as me - a stained shirt, a pair of baggy ivory pants. But his shirt was torn from the whip, and blue poured from the open wounds on his back.