Still he recalled the utter misery of finding the one person he loved so horribly abused and callously murdered. The fury, the desolation, the sense of failure . . .
“And so you attacked Mathias’s compound and tried to kill as many Anarki as possible in revenge?”
“Yes.”
“Which made everyone believe you’d gone mad. Then you tried to use your connection to Bram to secure an open Council seat so you could somehow punish Mathias?”
“Yes.”
“And when he refused, you felt that he’d betrayed your friendship because he knew how important Gailene had been to you?”
Ice clenched his fists. “Yes.”
“Oh, Ice.”
She looked as if her heart broke for him. He didn’t want her pity, just her understanding for the blow he knew would come next. And maybe, though he feared it would be too much to hope for, her understanding that he would never lie to her or use her.
“What did you say to your father?” she whispered.
“Nothing. I simply killed him.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
SUDDENLY, SABELLE UNDERSTOOD with perfect clarity in that moment why everyone believed Ice insane: demanding a Council seat from Bram at the expense of their friendship, attacking Mathias in his own lair and slaughtering a hundred Anarki all alone, killing his father—all by age twenty. Put together with the fact he’d since isolated himself, came from a family many thought beneath them, and lived in a cave, Ice made the perfect picture of a social outcast.
His grief for Gailene was genuine. Sabelle might not know everything about Ice, but she didn’t doubt the pain on his face. His utter stillness and the challenging set of his clenched jaw said he awaited her condemnation. Sabelle didn’t want to hurt Ice more than he’d already been.
But one could not discount two facts: Ice had vowed revenge against her brother, and magickind would benefit if she mated elsewhere.
“Say something.”
His choked demand made her heart clench for him. “I’m sorry for you, Ice. The terrible, awful way you lost Gailene. No brother with as much love as you clearly held for her should ever endure such torture.”
“Did you hear me? I killed my father.”
“I applaud you for it. I hope it was prolonged and painful. It was the least he deserved.”
He exhaled, clearly relieved. “I could have killed him a thousand times and it would never have been enough penance for Gailene’s horrific death.”
“You got your revenge against your father, nearly succeeded against Mathias. But what about my brother? Is that unfinished business?”
“Sabelle . . .” Ice shook his head. “When I first discovered Gailene’s body, I was beyond rage and consolation. I wanted to hurt everyone who’d had a hand in her death. After killing my father, I demanded that your brother help me. But I quickly realized that he did not put my pain above his ambition and would not help me avenge my sister. I made stupid threats. He believed I’d gone mad. We ceased speaking.” Ice shook his head. “Until he summoned me with the promise of a group designed to end Mathias, I had not spoken to him, so I’m certain that he only recalls my threats. But time has helped me to see that I asked too much of Bram.” Ice grabbed her hands, honestly burning from his hard, square face. “I vow to you, I would never use you to hurt your brother. Ever.”
Sabelle drew in a deep breath. Perhaps Ice was telling the truth. His earnest expression made her want to believe, so badly. Her breath caught, her heart bled. But her brother had warned her a hundred times while teaching her the ways of the Council not to be swayed by her emotions. Ice was playing every one she possessed, and it was so bloody hard not to be moved.
But now, she must face facts: Bram had behaved like a wanking bastard after emerging from the black cloud spell, but he had been telling the truth about the past. Ice had once hoped Bram would know the pain of losing a sister. Only his determination to have revenge had dimmed.
That wasn’t her impression when she saw Ice and her brother argue, when she’d witnessed the Anarki carnage at MacKinnett’s. Ice had killed Mathias’s minions with abandon and relished it. He had killed his own father. Bram was unfinished business. Was it possible he’d been biding his time?
Despite his pretty speech, that possibility cast a shadow on all of his actions: his “possessive nature,” his sacrifice of safety when the Anarki arrived at the MacKinnetts, his Call itself. Sabelle believed that Ice would never kill an innocent or condone that behavior, so it seemed logical that his seduction and Call could be his means of separating her from Bram.
Logical … though her gut told her that wasn’t Ice’s way.
Yet how was she to truly know? Her head and heart were at war.
“Thank you for that,” she said finally, gently pulling her hands free.
Ice swallowed, then grabbed her hands in his own again. “Please … believe me. Don’t mate with Lucan. When I said there was no other for me but you, I meant that with my whole—”
“It doesn’t matter.” She didn’t mean to snap, sound cold, but her insides were breaking. “Whatever your motives for Calling to me, the fact is, Bram will nominate Lucan for MacKinnett’s seat, but his appointment is by no means a certainty. Having me as his mate will secure his claim.”
“Bloody hell, princess, you don’t love him,” he snarled.
She didn’t, and whatever Ice may or may not be guilty of, she’d fallen hard and fast for the Deprived wizard who protected her, touched her with tender, wild passion, put her safety above his own. If he’d been genuine in all that, then she regretted deeply hurting him. But only time would tell the truth about Ice’s motives.
Time was something they did not have.
“I don’t love him,” she confirmed. “But I love magickind. I won’t see them crushed by Mathias.”
Ice cursed, a long, loud string of crass words that had Sabelle flinching. “Would you say differently if you believed me? Your brother’s words are ringing in your ears, and you still think I’ve used you for some elaborate revenge. But you’re wrong. I love—”
“It doesn’t matter!” Something inside her snapped.
If he convinced her of his love, doing what she must would nearly kill her. Already, it was difficult, knowing that her future would be with a wizard she regarded as a friend, not a lover. “None of it! Not what you feel, what I feel, what we might want, whether our love is real. Magickind needs me. Am I to turn my back on them? Watch Mathias make a thousand Gailenes? You, of all people, should want to see Mathias stopped at any cost.”
“Not when it means your sacrifice, princess. You deserve happiness.”
She frowned. “Everyone deserves happiness. I’m not any more special or deserving than any other witch or wizard.”
“I think you are.” Ice stared with solemn, burning green eyes. “You consistently put others’ needs above your own. You’re brave and resourceful, beautiful and kind—”
“Stop.” She couldn’t hear him heap praise on her, not and remain strong. “You were a strong, steadfast brother who didn’t deserve to have his sister ripped away so young, yet that is reality. Not everyone achieves happiness. I’ve known my whole life that I would likely mate for political purposes. I will take solace in the fact that my sacrifice will help our people.”
And she would cherish the memories of the few days she’d shared with Ice when following her heart had been a beautiful dream and she’d allowed herself to fall in love.
“You should take solace in that fact, too,” she murmured.
“Until you speak vows with him, you are mine. I won’t let you go easily. I love you. I believe you love me. You know our feelings are real.”
No, she didn’t know, but how badly she wanted to believe. Frustration wound up into a tangle of anger and tears. She tamped it down deep inside. “Ice, my course is set. By tomorrow, I will be Lucan’s.”
“Don’t settle for a wizard who loves another when I would kill for you, die for you. You can’t let him continue to use you for his ends. Stay with me. Bind to me.” He grabbed her hands and brought her against the solid heat of his body. “Let me spend our lives proving that my love is real.”
Ice had said once that their love was futile, and at the moment, Sabelle completely agreed. “We don’t have a lifetime.”
“What will it take to make you believe me?” he demanded.
“What I think does not signify.”
“You’re wrong. I cannot stand you thinking the worst of me when it’s your love and respect I want most.”
Though she sent him a sharp nod, her expression collected, his words shattered her into a million cold, black pieces. God, how badly she wanted to simply believe that he loved her, throw duty and caution to the wind, and Bind to him.
As I become a part of you, you become a part of me. I will be honest, good, and true . . .
She didn’t dare. If she followed her heart, Bram would feel the pain of losing a sister. She would lose the only steady family she’d ever known. If she Bound to Ice, she would likely lose her mate to his vendetta against Mathias someday. If she chose her heart over duty, magickind might lose its freedom, see the slaughter of innocents.
Ice himself had given her the tools with which to end this discussion. Now it was up to her to be strong enough to use them.
“If my opinion matters so much, then let me do what must be done. Let me go to Lucan. If you do, I will know your true feelings.” Sabelle tried to hold herself together, but the possibility that she was losing her chance with the wizard she loved crashed down on her. Tears scalded her eyes. “A-and I swear that, no matter how long I am mated to L-Lucan, I will love you.”
Sabelle’s words and tears stabbed Ice’s heart until it tore, bled, damn near stopped beating. Let her go? Never hold or touch her again? Watch his princess mate with a wizard who neither loved nor appreciated her? That would be the hardest thing he’d ever done.
He pressed his lips together. Her sense of fairness and purpose were some of what he loved most about her, but this self-sacrifice for the greater good? He hated it, even as he admired her more.
“Princess . . .”
“Don’t make this harder. Please.” More tears ran down her cheeks. He was humbled that she would spend tears on him. Before he could brush them away, she swiped an angry hand across her face.
Damn Bram for putting Sabelle in this position and making her doubt him.
“Will you do that for me?” she whispered.
Honestly, he wasn’t certain he could. Having her believe the worst of him shredded his guts, yet the thought of never holding her again—and knowing that MacTavish did—was every bit as painful.
Either way, he lost her. Unless he continued to fight like hell … which would only serve to make him look more bent on revenge or so self-centered she would lose all respect. Bugger!
An ominous gonging interrupted him.
Shit. Bram. That was all he needed.
“My brother? How did he find us so quickly?”
So Bram hadn’t forgotten where he lived. Ice couldn’t deny the wizard was smart, but demonic possession was also a possibility. Personally, Ice was hoping for the demonic possession. That would give him a reason other than anger to separate Bram’s body from his head and end some of Sabelle’s torment.
Then again, if he harmed her brother, Sabelle would hate him forever.
With a thick curse and dread multiplying, he opened his barriers. Bram barreled inside moments later, fury around him like a force field. His signature was muddled with the remnants of Mathias’s spell. Something was not at all right with his former friend . . .
Rion stampeded in, rampage on his face. “If you ever steal my sister away again, I swear to God—”
“Bram, I am not ten and I hardly need you to conduct my personal affairs for me.” Sabelle sighed. “We needed privacy to discuss our future.”
“You definitely need me if you think you have any sort of future with this manipulative piece of rubbish.”
“Asking a supposed friend for a favor,” Ice growled. “Huge manipulation, all right. I’d rather be accused of crossing the line than stabbing someone in the back. Stupid of me to think you’d care that my innocent sister had been tortured and murdered by a madman.”
“I did care. I grieved with you. I helped you bury her, then held you when you sobbed. I started the inquisition into her death. But I didn’t have the power to grant you a Council seat.”
“I asked you for a nomination,” Ice growled. “Period. I would have explained my rationale, my qualifications—”
Bram grunted in frustration. “Everyone knew you were too young. Twenty and untransitioned, who would have taken you seriously? We both would have been mocked, and I would have lost all credibility—”