Giant anemones swayed around the boundaries of the entry hall. Sand spread in ripples, stirring slightly as the group floated down to walk along the ocean floor into the main hall.
The sand shifted to patterned swirls of pearls and scalloped shells. Coral arches spread overhead, luminescent growths along them that would illuminate the hall once night fell. More Reef Guards lined the sides of the halls, all staring impassively. The king waited at the head of the hall, his queen clutching her hands together.
Tonya’s two escorts halted five paces from the monarchs and bowed. Tonya barely remembered to do the same.
“We found her on the surface of the island,” one of the guards spoke up. “It appeared to be the epicenter.”
Tonya’s aunt gasped and pulled away from her. Tonya kept her eyes fixed on a pearl at her feet. A faint swirl of pink wrapped around its creamy surface.
“What happened? Did you try to attack us?” King Stavros leaned forward, his narrow features creasing into an accusing frown.
Sophie stiffened, but Tonya tightened her grip on her friend’s hand in warning. She risked a glance up at Stavros instead. He regarded her with distaste, and another little piece of her heart broke. But she might as well get it over with.
“Please, Your Majesty, if I may?” She pressed her hand to her chest in another bow, avoiding his glance of disgust. “I had gone up to the surface for some air.” She tried not to wince as she gave them another reason to look down upon her. “I always go to the island. There’s never anyone else but me there, except for today.”
Stavros actually looked at her with something like interest. The queen only wrung her hands more vigorously.
“Someone came up behind me. I only saw a shadow. They touched me and I just—froze.”
She shivered. The strange cold had placed invisible binds around her, sapping any strength or power she could muster. “Then they said something that I didn’t understand, knocked me out, and then…” She lifted a hand almost helplessly. “When I woke up, everything was frozen.”
“You’re saying that you’re not responsible for all this?” He gestured up at the surface.
Tonya swallowed hard. Maybe she was. In the brief seconds before she’d blacked out, she remembered the feeling of cold and ice coming from her and through her and around her. But the coils still wrapped and tangled within her.
Whatever it was, she was just as powerless as always.
“I don’t know,” she finally whispered.
Her aunt and uncle slid farther away. Sophie stayed next to her, still clenching her hand in a tight grip.
“Can you undo it?” the queen blurted.
Tonya stared helplessly at the queen. If she strained hard enough, a slight tingle of magic touched her fingertips. Maybe even enough to move the pearl at her feet and send it bobbing among the waves. Not nearly enough to unfreeze the ocean.
Stavros cleared his throat, stroking his chin and beginning to pace—little puffs of sand stirring in his wake. The guards didn’t move. Neither did Tonya’s heart.
“Until we can establish just what exactly you did, you will be placed under guard. You will be allowed up to the surface once every tide to take some fresh air.” Stavros’s lip curled in slight derision at her need. “We will have some of our strongest magic users investigate. And then we will decide what will be done with you.”
Tonya’s heart sank like a rock to the pit of her stomach. His words sounded ominously final. Like it had already been decided and she would never go up to the surface to see the snow and ice again.
She managed a bow. The guard gently took her arm, prying her away from Sophie, and led her from the throne room. She glanced back once. Her aunt and uncle stood together, a strange sort of relief on their face. Only Sophie watched her go, a faint quiver to her chin.
Tonya tried for a smile, but she felt just as frozen as the surface. Still just as powerless.
Chapter Three
Then wars troubled the mortals’ lands. Count Stefan rose up and united them. He was named as the first king of Myrnius, and he ruled long and well. But that was long ago, and my ancestor’s lands have since fallen into decay. The faeries have not been seen in these parts for many long years, and indeed, many doubt their existence.
But the forest still stands, and the mountains remain. As I sit among the ruins of my forefathers’ castle, I hear a voice whisper a blessing through the wind. One day the lands will be restored, and Damian and Adela’s children remain to watch over Myrnius.
Diane paused, rubbing the quill along her chin as she re-read the passage she had just written. She shifted on her rocky seat and chewed the inside of her lip.
“Ralf!” she called.
Her guard circled back around the scattered masonry and picked his way towards her, climbing over fallen pillars.
“Yes, Your Highness?” he asked, his deep voice unerringly patient.
“How does this sound?” She read her latest effort out loud.
He cleared his throat and she braced herself.
“It’s not exactly historically accurate, is it?” he said carefully.
She narrowed her eyes at him. “The ruins part is!”
Diane swept her arm to encompass the crumbling remains of a once-proud castle. It had been destroyed when she was a child, barely able to walk. She didn’t remember its old glory. But the ruins were beautiful in a way.
Nature had begun to spring up around the tumbled columns and arches, and ivy clung to the remaining interior wall of the great hall like a leafy tapestry. But she liked to imagine what it had been like in her ancestor Stefan’s time.
Ralf conceded her point with a gruff hmph.
“And the part about the faeries is technically true,” she persisted.
He stood firm. “If by ‘many long years’ you mean three.”
She sat taller on her rock and jabbed the quill at him. “Why do I ask you for advice anyway?”
A smile flickered across his face, making him actually look his young age, instead of the solemn guard he turned into whenever others were around.
“Because I’m stuck with you and have to do whatever you tell me.”
She flicked the crumbly remnants of her lunch at him. He easily dodged the bits of bread.
“But really.” Diane plopped her chin down into her hand. “Do you think it’s that bad?”
He took a seat on a rock a few feet from her, adjusting his sword. “It’s very poetic.”
She flicked more crumbs at him.
His smile emerged for another half-second. “Maybe by the time it becomes one of the epic histories of our time, no one will bother to fact check to make sure that you weren’t writing only three years after the second dark war.”
Diane huffed a sigh. To have one of her tales considered as a historical document was a dream. But one that would likely not ever see fruition, as their country was still reeling from the war.
Instead of living in a castle, her older brother Edmund ruled from Chelm, the nearby township that had grown with refugees over the years. She had only one dress made from fine silk and it had been her mother’s. The dress she wore now was made of more sensible materials, plain and with little to differentiate it from the common townspeople’s clothing.
“Who knows? Maybe you’ll see the re-building of this castle, or a new one, in your lifetime.” Ralf’s voice drew her back.
“Maybe,” she agreed.
It wasn’t like she knew what she was missing by not living in a castle. She’d lived in Chelm for as long as she could remember. And even though still a dreamer at eighteen after living through the war and its continued aftermath, she knew she would probably never see the ramparts and walls re-erected.
A breeze stirred her long brown hair. She looked up in confusion. It had a chill to it that didn’t belong in the middle of summer.
Ralf stood, his brow furrowing in unease as he turned to the south. Another wind swept through, even colder this time. It grabbed some of
her parchment and knocked it away. She didn’t chase it, stepping closer to Ralf to stare with him at the approaching cloud.
It rose tall and white, shoving frigid air in front of it. Flecks of white peppered the front of her green dress.
“Snow?” she whispered in shock.
“Diane, move!” Ralf grabbed her arm in unaccustomed force and dragged her further into the ruins. She reached towards her pages in a desperate attempt to rescue them, but the wind scattered them all.
He pulled her, stumbling, through what had once been a corridor into the servants’ quarters. They pushed into one of the rooms, and Ralf tried to prop the shattered door back up on its hinges as some sort of flimsy protection. The wind howled around the corners, sneaking around the corner and through the door to send them shivering.
“What is this?” she whispered. “Magic?”
The word sent a new chill through her.
“I don’t know.”
He shepherded her into the corner, sheltering her with his body and providing a little warmth.
A shriek of wind pummeled the door down, flooding the room with cold and stinging snowflakes. Ralf shivered against her, sheltering her from the worst of the blast. She curled frozen fingers into his tunic.
Not again. Creator, please, not again.
The wind built to a howling crescendo. She bit back a whimper. A freak snowstorm in the middle of summer reeked of magic. And she had too many terrible memories of magic used against her people. Fires that couldn’t be quenched, twisted animals that preyed on the helpless, and sleepless nights spent listening to the distant thunder of battle.
She huddled against Ralf until the wind finally stopped howling, subsiding into an uneasy murmur. Ralf began to pull away, but she didn’t release his tunic. His cold hands covered hers and she managed to look up at him.
“It’s all right,” he whispered. “I’m just going to look outside.”
She jerked a nod and stumbled after him as he crept towards the door. Drifts of white poured through the door. He stirred it with his boot, and it came away crusted in snow.
Ralf kept her back with one arm as he peered around the door. She couldn’t bear the eerie silence.
“What’s out there?” she whispered.
He fixed her with a frown, the expression turning him back into the serious guard who had endured more combat than a young man of twenty-one should ever see. He drew his sword and she stepped back.
He’d been her guard for the past two years, and she trusted him with her life. He made her feel safe and he’d protected her on more than one occasion.
I can trust him now.
Still, she held her breath when he disappeared around the corner, only the soft crunch of his boots in the snow betraying him.
Her heart skittered around her chest at the silence that fell. Did he leave? He’d never leave me. She forced a calming breath. And another one. I never thought I’d have to hide again while someone went to confront magic. Her heart stuttered again. It wasn’t like the war. It was too cold and quiet.
Ralf’s quiet, “Diane,” startled her so much she almost screamed. She composed herself as much as her shivering body would allow. Tucking frozen hands under her arms, she cautiously stepped out.
Snow covered the ruins, and icicles jutted out at odd angles as if the wind had blown them sideways. The sun shone again, sparkling off the snow. In the gardens, a fallen rose rested as a red blotch against the snow.
She walked towards Ralf, every step sending her sinking almost up to her knees. Thank the Creator I decided to wear my boots today.
Ralf stood on the rocks, where just minutes ago she’d sat surrounded by summer. He helped her climb up above the drifts.
“Look.” He pointed to the north. A wall of ice and snow pummeled its way farther north, coating the land in white as far as the eye could see.
“What happened?”
He shrugged. “Come on. We need to go see if anything happened to Chelm.”
Diane clapped a hand to her cheek. Edmund! Matilde.
She jumped off the rock, foregoing decorum and plunging into the snow. A bit of parchment poking out of the snow halted her. She gently freed it. The ink remained unsmeared and she read the paragraph she’d written only minutes ago.
It seemed silly now. She turned her gaze again to the south where the forest of Celedon loomed just out of eyesight.
Whose magic is this, and will the faeries even help us?
Chapter Four
Ralf insisted on taking the lead, plowing through the snow drifts towards the town half a mile away. For the first time ever, Diane regretted going to the castle.
Creator, please let everyone be all right. The prayer repeated over and over in her mind as she tried to fit her strides to Ralf’s longer ones, misstepping into drifts more often than not. Finally, she stopped.
“Take shorter steps!” She propped her fists on her hips as he turned to look at her.
He flattened one eyebrow in mild exasperation. She never knew how he managed the look. She’d practiced in the mirror, but the closest she’d gotten was looking like a strangled griffin.
Still, he adopted a more reasonable pace.
Snow covered the red shale rooftops of Chelm. Mounds of white piled up against the southern sides of the houses. A relieved exhale puffed from Diane’s lips as figures stumbled around the buildings.
One ran toward them and Ralf stepped aside to let her fling herself into her brother’s arms.
“You all right?” Edmund demanded.
“I’m fine. Is everyone else?” She wriggled from his protective embrace.
His square jaw set in tense concern—a look that shadowed his young face all too often in the years since he’d been forced to take up the mantle of king.
“So far,” he said. “We’re trying to figure out what exactly happened.”
“Magic is the only explanation,” Ralf said.
He and Edmund exchanged a grim look. They’d fought together on the magic-ridden battlefields and held off the twisted creations that still roamed the lands. Diane had seen her fair share of it all.
They’d had relative peace for the last three years, and she hated to think that everything they’d tried to build back up had been lost.
She shook herself, crumpling the parchment in her hand.
“Let’s evaluate the damage.” She strode forward. We’ll need additional fuel. I’ll make a list of houses that need extra patching to the walls to keep the cold out. Blankets. Food stores.
Edmund caught up to her and together they went to each family, making sure they had enough blankets, inventorying food supplies, and staving off most of the panic that threatened. Diane used the back of her parchment to run calculations, scratching numbers with a bit of charcoal she’d left in her pocket.
Nearly an hour later, she and Edmund stood in the middle of the town square. Ralf waited a few feet away. He’d stayed at her side the entire time, even handing her a spare piece of charcoal when hers had rubbed down to an un-useable nub.
Edmund had smirked a little at his preparedness. An expression Diane had pointedly ignored.
Her brother looked over her calculations, biting his lip in a frown. “This isn’t going to last long. We’ll be lucky if any of the crops survived this freeze.”
Diane’s heart sank a little lower. In her immediate concern, she hadn’t even thought about the outlying farms. Or the rest of Myrnius. She gave it until the end of the day before people began arriving from the nearest villages and towns to seek out Edmund.
He turned over the paper. “What’s this?”
A smile touched the corners of his eyes as he read. She snatched it away, straightening the creases.
“Still enamored with the old tales of our ancestors and faeries who cared?”
She hated the despondence that tinged his voice. It didn’t belong in a young man of only twenty-one. One who had already been king four years.
“It just seems a better t
hing to think on than all this.” She swept an arm around them. “Not that this is terrible!”
He only smiled again. “I know what you mean. Sometimes I wish that we could have the wealth and peace that Father did before the war.”
“If anyone can bring Myrnius back to her glory, it’s you.” She lifted her chin in determination. I have to believe in something, and he’s stubborn enough to do it.
“That’s why I’m glad I have you around. You manage to keep me a little bit optimistic.”
She wrapped one arm around him in a hug. “Happy to help.” She pushed him towards their house. “Let’s go inside and get warm for a minute. Oh, Ralf! Go see your family and make sure they’re all right. I’ll be fine.”
The guard gave a small smile and bow and left.
The sun shone down with the intensity of a summer day, but the snow remained, not even deigning to show signs of melting. Diane tried not to let it panic her. Gusts of cold wind scurried around the corners, only to be repelled by a bit of warmth.
She glanced up at the cloudless sky. Even the wind and sun didn’t know what was happening.
Inside their manor house, a symmetric two-story structure, Diane’s maidservant—Matilde—hurried to bring her a coat.
“You look chilled to the bone, my lady.” She ushered Diane closer to the fire.
Diane rubbed her hands together, shivering a little as she took a seat by the wide fireplace. “You can’t even rebuke me for not taking a coat out this time.”
Matilde pursed her lips in a smile. “I’ll bring you some tea. Sire, can I bring you anything?”
Edmund shook his head, eyes already distant as he stared into the fire. Diane kicked off her boots and tucked her feet up underneath her. She rested an elbow on the armrest and propped her chin in her hand.
“We’ll figure it out,” she said.
Edmund didn’t look away from the fire. “With your unfailing optimism, do we have a choice?”
“No.” She inserted extra cheerfulness that she didn’t quite feel into her voice.
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