I pressed a hand to my stomach, battling nausea. My own hatred and violence had fed the very throne I had come to destroy.
“But I was still frozen,” he continued. “The throne has no cure for that. When I saw you in my arena, when I watched you burn the hearts of your enemies without a second of hesitation, I thought, There she is. She is fire. She is heat. She was meant for me. I found out about your pain, your sorrow, so I would know how to blacken your heart, to make you strong.”
The throne still pulled at me, and, despite myself, so did his soft words.
“I’m already strong,” I said, “just in a different way.” I took a breath, remembering that I was a healer’s daughter. “Perhaps there is a chance for you. He always wanted me to heal you.”
His eyes narrowed. “Who?”
I made a helpless gesture. “Arcus. He wanted me to break the curse and heal you. I don’t know how we can do it, but maybe we can find out.”
He moved closer, slowly, like one would approach a wild dog. His voice shook, his eyes shining like polished onyx. “The way you say his name, Ruby… I felt you rip yourself from the darkness, from me, to protect my brother when you should have killed him.” Hurt flashed in his eyes, swift as lightning, leaving them darker than before. “Why didn’t you kill him?”
I spread my palms. “I never wanted to kill anyone.”
“You killed before. Why not him, Ruby?”
I felt as if I was being backed into a trap. “He’s my friend.”
Rasmus took my chin between his finger and thumb in a bruising grip. “Why wouldn’t you kill him?”
“I would never hurt Arcus,” I said, shoving him away with all my strength, any thought of healing gone. “I would die first!”
There was a thick, pulsing silence before he spoke, his voice tempered steel. “If you refuse the throne, you refuse me. You’re not strong in the way I need you to be. And I detest weakness.”
He flicked his hand at me, and I was covered in ice up to my waist. I willed my skin to grow hot, but the ice thickened and crept up my body.
“Good-bye, Ruby,” he said. “Know that your death will increase the throne’s power. So it wasn’t a complete waste.”
TWENTY-EIGHT
THE DOORS TREMBLED AS SOMEthing crashed against them, cracking the ice that sealed them with each blow. They split open and Arcus pushed through, breathing heavily, his head bare, a blood-smeared sword held in his hand.
Rasmus, poised and ready, hit Arcus in the chest with a bolt of frost, slamming him into the stone wall. Another bolt caught Arcus’s wrist, opening his hand. The sword clanged as it fell to the tiled floor, then froze with a thick block of ice covering it.
“Let her go,” said Arcus in a calm tone at odds with the fury in his eyes. He levered himself away from the wall and came forward. “And we can talk like brothers.”
“Isn’t she pretty there, all trussed up in ice?” Rasmus said with amusement. “Perhaps I’ll keep her as a statue in my courtyard. Fire trapped in ice. An elegant metaphor, don’t you think?”
“The throne controls you,” said Arcus, his voice low and even, moving forward slowly.
Rasmus breathed a laugh. “The throne is my ally.”
Arcus stopped a few feet away, his eyes moving over me, perhaps looking for blood or signs that I was hurt. A look of relief passed over his face when he didn’t find any.
“I’m not your enemy, Raz. We can find a way to free you from the curse.”
Rasmus bared his teeth in a feral grin. “Fors and Eurus are brothers, too. Eurus made the throne stronger as a gift.”
“He poisoned it out of jealousy,” said Arcus.
“You were scared of your own throne. Is that why you didn’t come back until now?”
“You hired someone to kill me! Forgive me for not being eager to return.”
Rasmus shook his head. “Not me. I was barely more than a child.”
Arcus blinked several times. “You’re saying you didn’t send the assassin. I don’t know if I believe you.”
“Believe what you wish. I don’t need you.” Rasmus turned to me and spoke with feverish emphasis. “And I don’t need her.”
Ice crept up my chin and coated my lips, cutting off my air. I struggled in blind panic. After a few seconds, my heated breath melted the ice around my mouth. I took in gulps of air and watched the brothers face each other.
“Let her go, Raz,” Arcus said, his voice stern. He had an air of command, of an older brother and a king. “We can make peace now, but if you kill her, you’re as good as dead.”
“All I have to do is raise a finger and I can stop her heart,” said Rasmus softly. “Just one breath. A thought, even. You won’t even know I’ve done it until it’s too late. Another lying Fireblood whom no one will miss.”
I focused on my heart, willing the heat to come forward, to melt the ice around me. Barely a flicker answered, not even a tendril of flame.
“I will miss her.” Arcus’s voice was harsh, threatening, but it held a desperate undercurrent.