Patrik took several deep breaths through his nose, then closed his eyes. For the first time in my life, I got to see a Druid turn into a snake, and it was quite the sight to behold. I heard bones crack and held my breath as I watched his humanoid form shrink, wiggle, and darken in its Dhaxanian frost casing.

He shifted into a medium-sized, cobra-like serpent, small enough to slither out and free himself. He slipped out of the ice and landed on the floor with a wet, sloppy thud, then looked up at me and hissed, his yellow eyes almost hypnotizing.

A minute later, he was back to his old self, his arms reaching toward the overhead tunnel—and he was stark naked. My cheeks burned, and I eventually looked away, mentally reprimanding myself for my slow reaction. Blame the Dhaxanian ice. Say it slowed you down.

I could’ve blamed whatever compound was in that ice, but I would’ve lied. I got a full view of the ropes of muscle so elegantly stretched over his torso, his strong shoulders and thighs, and that sprinkle of dark, curly chest hair that cast a mild shadow over his pecs. Patrik was stunning from top to bottom, and, for a brief moment, I felt like it was a crime against the world to keep him dressed.

Despite Avril’s understandable gawking, Heron didn’t agree. “Dude! Clothes! Ew!”

“Don’t ‘Ew!’ me,” Patrik shot back, then reached into the gaps of his ice prison to pull out whatever clothes he could grab, along with his backpack. Fortunately for him, his height and agility helped, and he managed to retrieve his pants, belt, and bag before they slipped to the bottom. “I’ve had to put up with your noise for more than a day now, from moaning and cursing to praying to the Daughters and making all kinds of promises to them if they got you out of here—promises we both know you would never be able to keep because it’s not in your nature. Two minutes of my naked body is nothing by comparison.”

Both Avril and I chuckled. He got dressed and pulled out a handful of colorful crystal powder, a proprietary blend he kept handy for instant spells. He muttered something under his breath, then sprinkled some of that powder over my Dhaxanian ice restraints. It didn’t work.

I tried to move, but I was still very much encased in Nevis’s frost. “Crap,” I sighed.

Patrik frowned and tried the spell again, but to no avail. “It’s ice. It should be melting. This isn’t right.”

“We already know by now that this isn’t regular ice,” Avril muttered. “Not sure about the other Dhaxanians, but Nevis’s frost is clearly impervious to almost everything, and, on top of that, it’s literally slowing us down.”

The sliver of hope that had blossomed in my chest started causing me pain. Patrik was free, but he couldn’t get us out. He drew his sword and tried chipping away at the ice, but it did nothing, leaving behind only subtle scratches on the outer surface. “Dammit,” he hissed, then stilled as he looked at me.

“What is it?” I asked, my heart pumping faster with every minute that went by.

“They’re getting closer,” Patrik breathed.

If Patrik, with his serpent senses, could smell the daemons coming, it meant we had only minutes to get out of here. And we still had the meranium cage to get out of—provided Patrik had enough swamp witch knowledge to disable the engraved charms. The closer we got to our daemonic doom, the more agitated we became, trying everything we could to release ourselves while Patrik tried other spells, each equally ineffective.

“Seriously, though, what the hell is this ice made of?” Avril groaned, struggling to get out.

“Had it been the work of any other Dhaxanian, you probably would’ve been free by now,” Nevis said as he descended on his icy spiral. We froze, watching him as his bare feet touched the floor, frosty snowflake patterns unraveling from every step he took. It seemed as though everything he touched turned to ice. “But my Dhaxanian blood is ancient and more powerful. I am, in fact, the last of my kind, whose frost is impervious to most outside forces, magic included.”

He didn’t look happy, though. In fact, he seemed insulted as he glared at Patrik. With one flick of his hand, Patrik was wrapped in ice again, this time tighter. He struggled to breathe, with frost covering his mouth and constricting around his neck.

“Please, stop, you’re hurting him!” I cried out.

“I didn’t give anyone permission to leave. You’ll have to forgive me if I find this entire scene particularly insulting,” Nevis shot back, his tone cold and flat.

“Your Grace—Nevis, please!” Avril interjected, her eyes glazed with tears. “You have to let us go! The daemons are almost here. Please! The lives of many innocent creatures are at stake, yours included. Your people’s lives are at stake. I beg you, don’t let the daemons win this round. I promise, you won’t be able to forgive yourself if we’re carted off to Infernis.”

“Avril, you have the spirit of a leader in you, I know it,” Nevis replied firmly. “But you don’t have the experience, and you lack the judgement to be one, at this point in time—”

“I’ll never get a chance to be a leader if you let the daemons take us!” she retorted.

“That is your choice, not mine. I made you an offer, but you declined it,” Nevis said.

“Then why are you back here now?” Avril asked, her lips tight.

Nevis blinked several times. “What do you mean?”

“Why are you down here? The daemons are literally around the corner as we speak. I doubt they need you to sign off on our departure,” Avril muttered. “Why are you down here, if not to revisit your unwise decision to hand us over to the daemons?”

“Maybe I came here to say goodbye,” Nevis replied with a faint smirk.

“Spare me!” Avril snapped, vividly infuriated. “I’m not interested in hearing the goodbyes of a delusional coward!”

A couple of seconds passed. Blood raced through my veins. I could hear the daemon boots on the ground, getting louder and closer. Painful knots formed in my stomach, making my breath hitch from the anxiety. This wasn’t how I’d envisioned my ending. I had an eternity ahead. Technically speaking, there was no ending for me.

“I’m impressed at how articulate you are after over twenty-four hours spent in my frost,” Nevis replied with a raised eyebrow. “Others turn into mumbling piles of meat in less than an hour. What is your secret?”

“I was right!” Heron breathed, his eyes wide. “Your ice is definitely doing something to us.”

“And yet, you’re still talking,” Nevis said, not hiding his dismay.

“We’re obviously stronger than you gave us credit for,” Avril replied, gritting her teeth. A tear rolled down her cheek, and, for a split second, it seemed to tug a string in the Dhaxanian prince’s frozen heart.

“Which is why I came down here, to…” Nevis’s voice trailed off, his gaze fixed on the tunnel opening next to Heron. A large daemon walked in, followed by a throng of armed guards.

My chest constricted, and I broke into a cold sweat. Dread stiffened my joints at the sight of our foes standing before us with vicious sneers. There were at least two hundred of them, like Avril had projected, but they didn’t all fit in this crossroads chamber. The one at the front demanded our full attention, though. He wore a military tunic with gold sigils covering the left side of his chest. Gold thread was woven in an intricate pattern, covering his horns, while his long black hair was braided down his broad back, gemstone beads covering the tips. His red eyes glimmered with satisfaction, a sentiment further detailed by the grin on his despicably handsome face. The daemons were beautiful creatures, but still too cruel, too evil to merit any praise.

“You’re early,” Nevis muttered. He didn’t sound pleased.

“I’m on a tight schedule, Dhaxanian prince,” the leader of the daemon throng replied, but Nevis didn’t seem all that impressed.

“Which one are you, though? I usually deal with Shaytan’s Council,” he said, narrowing his icy blue eyes.

“I’ll be ascending to the Council soon enough, Dhaxanian, so you’d better show me some respect. I’m Cason, tenth son of King Shaytan, and prince of daemons,” the leader replied, crossing his muscular arms.

We were definitely valuable assets to the king of daemons, since he’d chosen to send one of his sons to come get us. I could hardly breathe at this point, and my brain struggled to come up with alternative scenarios. Were they going to just pick us up, ice included? Or was Nevis going to set us free, giving us a couple of seconds of transition time? If the latter were to happen, it meant that there was still a thread of hope left.

And I was ready to pull it. I may have temporarily lost my hyper-speed because of the frost, but I could still give the daemons a run for their money.