by Bree Barton
Mia held her breath. She turned around slowly, too afraid to hope.
Nelladine stood on the pier.
“Hello, Raven.”
Mia swallowed the lump in her throat. She braved a smile.
“Actually,” she said, “it’s Mia.”
“Hello then, Mia.” Nell gave a shy wave. “You two looking for a ride? Because I happen to have a boat with space for two passengers.”
She stepped aside, revealing a modest boat tied to the pier.
Pilar had no idea who this girl was, but she didn’t care. A new crush of people was descending on the dock, threatening to sink what few boats were left.
“Done,” she said, hurtling herself onboard. She felt Mia hesitate behind her. “Get on the boat, Rose!”
Mia didn’t move. She looked at Nell, heartbeat roaring in her ears.
“What made you come back?” she said.
Nelladine took a tentative step.
“You weren’t wrong to want to feel something. I should know that better than anyone. You trusted me with the truth, told me a secret from the deepest part of your soul. And I did the absolute worst thing. I left.”
Nell’s gaze was clear and honest.
“I won’t leave you again. We women need each other now more than ever. We’re fighting for the same side.”
She reached out her hand.
Mia took it.
Instantly she felt heat. As Nelladine pressed her long brown fingers into the frostflower mark, warmth spilled over Mia’s skin. Why did Nell’s touch spark a sensation when nothing else did?
An ear-splitting boom ripped through the air.
Mia and Nell whirled around.
The glacier was collapsing. An avalanche howled down the mountain, swallowing the upper half of the village in one gigantic white gulp. In a moment it would devour the Snow Queen’s palace.
“Angie,” Mia murmured, at the same time Pilar said, “Quin.”
“No time for nostalgia, you can reminisce later.” Nell was already tugging Mia aboard. “Boats are good for that.”
“She really did it,” Pilar said. “Angelyne tipped the world out of balance.”
“Unless,” Mia said, her voice quiet, “Quin tipped it first.”
“I don’t care who’s to blame,” Nell said. “All I know is that I’m getting you both out of here.”
Mia tore her eyes away from Valavïk. “Where are you taking us?”
“Where I should have gone a long time ago. To the only person who can help.”
“Who’s that?” Pilar cocked a brow. “On that note: who in four hells are you?”
“I’m Nelladinellakin. We’re going to see the Shadowess.”
She gave them each an oar.
Epilogue
Dear sisters,
Let me tell you a story.
I once believed hurting people made you weak. I thought all heroes who hid behind their fists and arrows were cowards in disguise. That if we could simply break bread together, we might be able to come to an accord.
I don’t believe that anymore.
Truthfully, I’ve never liked my own story. A weak boy. A scorned son. A used, manipulated lover. Whether prince or king, I have always been the pawn. I have never been the leading man.
But as a wise (albeit bent) woman once said: We all cling to myths about who we are. If you don’t like them, choose a different ending.
I choose to return to the people of the river kingdom.
I choose to take my rightful place as king of Glas Ddir.
I choose to never be enthralled, enkindled, or controlled again.
And if these choices throw me into conflict with any one of you, so be it.
For the first time in my life, I feel no fear. I have always known myself to be broken. But finally, after so many years, I understand my brokenness is a gift.
Each of you has hurt me. Each of you has claimed to care about me, only to rob me of something precious. At the end of the day, your loyalties lie with one another. No matter how you carve up the bonds of sisterhood between you, you will choose each other every time.
Thanks to you, I have no sister. But credit where credit is due. They say only when a man is free of love is he free to do what he is meant to do.
Take care of yourselves, sisters. Take care of each other.
I cannot promise I will do the same.
Very truly yours,
Quin
Acknowledgments
This book was hard to write, for many reasons. I am forever grateful to the people who came to my aid.
Alex Arnold, you helped shape this story—and held my hand every time I stumbled. When Toast ate the first page, I knew I must be onto something.
Rebecca Aronson, to say you picked up the baton would be an understatement. You took my ungainly words and made them graceful and honest, like any good ballerina. #Derrida4eva.
Joel Tippie, Joel Tippie, Joel Tippie. I still regret not getting your name into the Heart of Thorns acknowledgments in time, so I’m thanking you in triplicate. I clearly have the best art director in the biz.
Katherine Tegen, thank you for the gift of this trilogy, and the privilege of seeing my name on it. Mabel Hsu, you are my fearless in-house champion; your kindness has meant the world. Tanu Srivastava, your emails always make me smile. Jill Amack, you have bestowed upon my inner geek all manner of grammarian delights.
Nicole Banholzer, your presence on this journey has been a blessing many times over. Inhala, exhala. Ante Aikio, I’m lucky to have your thoughtful insight on Sami culture and an “insider look” at the life of a reindeer herder.
Tae Keller, you saved me more than you know. You cast light into a dark room—and did so in less than sixty-five hours. This story is better because of you.
Amelinda Bérubé, you were my first reader of messy early pages, and Maura Milan, my second. When I was pretty sure there wasn’t a book here, you both believed there was.
Emily Wibberley, your kind and persistent nudges restored my faith in what I was doing. Thanks to you and Austin for making me laugh uproariously in public. Wet Jams!
Emily and Mia, my favorite violinists: thanks for lending me your eyes and fingers (not literally; that’d be gross). Caden, you made my beautiful cover even more beautiful. I appreciate all your friendship and support. Lorna and Kate, you sanctioned Tears of Frost over bone broth. Sirpa, my translation queen: thanks for the idioms and the laughs. It’s all gone to taters.
Alison, Amy, April, Aya, Bridget, Britta, Cori, Dana, Farrah, Hayley, Honora, Isabel, Kyle, Lana, Laura, Nica, Nicole, Sara, Sarah Nicole, Sonia, Teresa, Terry, and my magical Djerassi crew—I drew so much strength from your texts and emails this year. Thank you. I needed them.
I am grateful for all the friends who have shared their stories with courage, honesty, and a healthy dose of female rage. I hope I’ve done you justice.
To my Rock ‘n’ Write girls—and the countless students, librarians, booksellers, and readers I’ve met—thank you for reminding me why I do this.
Thank you to my mom for every pep talk and word of encouragement. To my sister Cat for sharing her truth with such ferocious bravery—and inspiring me to do the same.
Christopher DeWan: you read this book more than anyone and made it better in a million little ways. You’ve made me better in a million little ways, too.
And because not all inanimate objects are truly inanimate: I’d like to thank the northern lights. When I gazed up into the sky that night in Iceland, I felt happy to be alive.
Resources
The following organizations have saved many lives. Each hotline offers a live chat or text option, so even if you are not a phone person (I am definitely not a phone person), someone will be ready and available to support you.
National Sexual Assault Hotline
https://www.rainn.org
1.800.656.HOPE (4673)
Call the 24/7 hotline to be connected with a trained staff member from a sexual assault serv
ice provider in your area.
National Suicide Prevention Hotline
https://suicidepreventionlifeline.org
1.800.273.TALK (8255)
The Lifeline provides 24/7, free, and confidential support for people in distress, prevention and crisis resources for you or your loved ones.
The Crisis Text Line
https://www.crisistextline.org/texting-in
Text CONNECT, HOME, or any message to 741-741
Being “in crisis” doesn’t just mean suicide: it’s any painful emotion for which you need support. Crisis Text Line serves anyone, in any type of crisis, providing access to free, 24/7 support and information via text.
And if you or a loved one is in immediate danger, call 9-1-1. Tell the operator this is a psychiatric emergency and ask for an officer trained in crisis intervention.
You got this. As Pilar and Mia come to understand by book’s end: you are not alone.
About the Author
Photo by Anna Cecilia
BREE BARTON is the author of Heart of Thorns. When she’s not lost in a story, she teaches dance classes to teen girls. She is on Instagram and YouTube as Speak Breely, where she posts funny videos with her melancholy dog. Bree lives in Los Angeles but dreams of the northern lights.
www.breebarton.com
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Books by Bree Barton
Heart of Thorns
Tears of Frost
Soul of Cinder
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Copyright
Katherine Tegen Books is an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers.
TEARS OF FROST. Copyright © 2019 by Bree Barton and HarperCollins Publishers. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
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Cover art and design by Joel Tippie
Digital Edition NOVEMBER 2019 ISBN: 978-0-06-244773-9
Print ISBN: 978-0-06-244771-5
1920212223PC/LSCH10987654321
FIRST EDITION
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