Chapter 22: The Ice queen 2
Dust still hung faint in the Haven's wrecked air, a gritty haze catching the morning light as Kael faced the Ice Queen. Her shackles clinked soft, platinum-cyan hair glintingld, and those icy blue eyes pinned him—sharp, unyielding, slicing through his bruised calm.
He forced a grin, tight and quick, and crouched beside her. Metal scraped as he worked the shackles free—fingers brushing her wrists,ol and steady—leaving only thellar locked tight around her neck, its dull gleam a silent threat. She didn't flinch, just watched him rise, her silence louder than words.
He gestured to a chair—one of the few still standing, wood scratched but solid—and she sat, not on the chair he chose, but the one she chose, posture straight, regal despite the blood drying on her split lip from Liss's fists.
Kael ducked into the kitchen, boots crunching glass, and rummaged theunter—dent still glaring from last night's brawl. A kettle hissed to life, steam curling up, and he poured hot tea into a chipped mug, the scent of jasmine cutting through the stale stink of fight and dust. He grabbed an ice pack too,ld biting his palm, and carried both back—setting the mug before her, offering the pack with a nod. "For your face," he said, voice low, steady despite the shiver her gaze sparked.
She took the tea—fingers curling slow around the mug, steam brushing her knuckles—but waved off the ice pack, a flick of her hand dismissing it. Her lips parted, voice smooth and firm, a quietmmand. "Remove thisllar." Her blue eyes locked his, frost in their depths, and Kael's throat tightened—nerves flickering under his skin.
He shifted, boots scuffing, and rubbed his neck—bruises pulsing faint. "Can't," he said, gentle but firm, meeting her stare. His hazel eyes held steady, but her gaze pressed harder—ald weight heuldn't shake.
She blinked once, slow and deliberate, then sipped her tea—lips brushing the rim, steam curling up—as if he'd said nothing at all. The abrupt shift jarred him—silence swallowing her demand, her calm a wall heuldn't read. Kael's mind raced, pulse ticking up. Rhea'd been easy—fire and fury heuld spar with, bend to his rhythm. This woman—Ice Queen, Liss called her—was different. Tall, poised, her quiet maturity a puzzle heuldn't crack. Liss hadn't dropped a rank, a file, a damn hint—just cash and a leash. Who was she? He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and started simple. "What's your name?"
Her gaze flicked up, icy blue cutting through steam. "Ice Queen," she said, voice flat, final, sipping again.
Kael's brow creased, a grin tugging his lip. "Your real name," he pressed, hazel glinting, testing her edge.
She set the mug down—soft clink on wood—and met his eyes,ol and unyielding. "Call me Queen. That's all you get." Her tone shut the door, no crack for him to pry.
He opened his mouth—another push brewing—but a creak split the air, sharp and loud. Rhea's door swung open, hinges groaning, and she stomped out—crimson hair a tangled mess, amber eyes bleary with sleep.
The white t-shirt and pajama pants he'd left her hung loose—softtton swallowing her frame, a stark swap from last night's red tease. She rubbed her face, crankiness rolling off her in waves, and launched into a growl.