Dreams of Ice and Iron by Kayla Edwards

Author:Kayla Edwards [Edwards, Kayla]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Published: 2021-08-29T18:30:00+00:00

~

Killian was drunk out of his mind.

As soon as he’d arrived back at the House of Ice, he’d ordered several rounds of whiskey for himself and a few lucky men—the ones he supposed he hated the least. They’d drank and drank, until they could barely stand. And then they’d wandered into the brisk afternoon, silver flasks in hand, slurring songs and toasting to the empty skies. Until they’d lost themselves in the tangled woods surrounding the House.

Killian rubbed his eyes. The trees were blurring together; he was seeing doubles of everything. Grunting as he steadied himself against an ice-covered birch, he listened to his men’s bawdy singing fade into the distance. A moment later, they called for him, their voices bouncing above the swaying treetops. He slurred a reply he wasn’t sure they heard. He needed to piss.

The woods were silent as he undid his belt and relieved himself. Closing his eyes tight, he tried not to fall over as he swayed on his feet. Gods—he couldn’t recall ever being this drunk, though he’d had good reason to be. He didn’t even want to think about Moiria’s wretched loom. Right now, he was done with caring about anything.

The click of Killian’s belt buckle was loud in the silence. He listened for the voices of his men, but he heard nothing save for the distant rushing of the Airese River and the wind scraping along skeletal branches. He opened his mouth to call out their names…but stopped.

There was a dragging sound, like a bag—or a body—being pulled over the snow. Killian reached for his sword, but his fingers closed around air. He must’ve taken off his weapons belt.

Something splashed on his cheek. Drip. Drip. When had it started raining?

He looked up at the sky, but moisture dripped in his eyes, burning them. He cursed and wiped it away… And then he froze.

The tips of his fingers were red. Was that—

Blood?

A shadow spilled across the snow. Killian watched, blinking fiercely, as the shape of great wings unfurled and blocked out the sun. Slowly, he backed away.

Something dropped out of seemingly nowhere, landing hard on his shoulders and nearly knocking him over. He barked a curse and scurried out of the way.

Gods—it was the bottom half of a body. It looked like the jaws of some massive creature had ripped off the upper half, leaving behind a mess of blood and entrails. A closer look at the hilt of the sword told him it was Saul—one of the three men he’d wandered into the woods with.

Killian took off running, tearing through the trees. He was in no condition to fight, though his heart throbbed so hard that he clutched his chest as the dragon inside him stirred awake. He did not enjoy the Shift—not one bit—and he fought against it as he tripped over his boots.

After a few painful minutes, he reached the roaring brown Airese River. Sprinting toward it, one hand still grasping at his chest and the other hexing before him, he cursed himself for having drank so much.

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