by SM Reine
The instant that Marion saw her expression, Marion knew that Leliel had already heard of the vote.
“I have a message for you to deliver to your future in-laws,” Leliel said. “Tell them that war is coming.”
“Wait, Leliel. We should talk,” Marion said.
“You’ve done enough, mage girl.” Her enchanted wings whipped free of the tattoos on her back. The other angels unfurled their wings as well—genuine wings, feathers glowing with so much energy that all the lights immediately extinguished in the dock.
The wind caught them, and they were gone.
Marion stepped up to the edge to watch the three of them go. She had a foul taste in her mouth.
“I voted in your favor, dammit,” she said into the foggy evening.
But it didn’t matter.
Marion’s fists were shaking, and she realized that her fingernails had cut neat half-moons into her palm because they’d been clenched so tightly.
Strangely, she wasn’t angry that Leliel refused to listen. Marion never would have expected her offer to talk to go over well.
She felt queasy that she’d even voted in the favor of Leliel, her would-be killer, even though she and Konig had agreed that it would be the easiest way to prevent war.
What’s wrong with you? Jolene had asked.
“If only I knew,” she muttered.
3
Marion arrived in Niflheimr with no fanfare and only Nori at her side.
“Here we are,” Nori said. “Home sweet home.” Marion couldn’t even make out her face because she was bundled in so many furs.
Like Marion, Nori Harper was half-human, half-angel Gray, and equally unexcited to move into the Winter Court. But she was capable of planeswalking like many of the sidhe, and Marion wasn’t, so Marion couldn’t travel between dimensions without Nori.
Nori had agreed to assist Marion in establishing the court, but only when Marion had promised a prestigious position as her advisor. And also a pound of very fine Belgian chocolate.
Marion couldn’t respond at the moment because the coldness of the wind had sucked her breath away. She pulled the scarf up and her hood down until only her eyes were uncovered, allowing her to see her new kingdom.
And what a kingdom it was.
She’d known that the Winter Court was in trouble after its years of anarchy and infighting among the sidhe. Its population was estimated in the hundreds, and the survivors were spread out in camps in the forest where the warring Summer Court hadn’t been able to kill them.
Even so, she hadn’t imagined Niflheimr would be such an absolute wreck.
It was a castle of ice standing alone in a frozen ocean. Nori had taken her to the landing platform that Konig had indicated would be safest, but safest didn’t seem to mean intact. They were on a balcony near the top of the only tower that didn’t have any holes in its walls large enough to suggest imminent collapse. A couple of the other towers were swaying in the wind.
The balcony, however, had several large holes in it, and the door leading into the tower stood ajar, windows shattered.
Beyond the delicate railing edging the balcony, there was a vast ocean, bordered on one side by a frigid shore. A broken bridge crossed the space between the two.
Marion couldn’t see a single hint of life.
This was what the gods had wanted her to take. She was steward of this—little more than a grave.
“Changed your mind? Want to go back?” Nori must have been smiling, because the corners of her eyes were tilted up.
Marion gathered herself, standing up straight and throwing her shoulders back. “Very funny.”
Niflheimr didn’t look like that much, but it meant that Marion’s legacy would be so much more impressive once she restored it. She’d need to take pictures before she began repairs. Before-and-afters would make quite an impression on the front page of the newspapers.
“Princess, you’re here!” Konig strode onto the balcony, unaffected by the cold and easily dodging the holes in the floor. He wore a long scarf over a snug t-shirt that hugged every line of his lean body.
He swept Marion up into a hug, spinning her in place. She choked back a squeal.
“There are holes,” she said, trying to push away from him, closer to solid ground.
He laughed without releasing her. “Not afraid of falling, are you? You’re an angel!”
Marion wasn’t nearly as afraid of falling as she was striking the icy ocean many thousands of feet below. “Let’s go inside. I’m cold.”
Konig all but carried her inside. The Raven Knights milled around the landing, murmuring amongst themselves. They were dressed as lightly as their prince. Nobody who was loaned from the Autumn Court was going to care much about the climate.
Marion was finally set on her feet.
“I’ve been looking at bedrooms,” Konig said, keeping his arm around her shoulders as he steered her downstairs. “The king’s quarters are truly impressive. Cooper’s taste really was something!”
“Cooper? The king was named Cooper?”
“And my father is named Rage.” Konig rolled his eyes. “All the old guard kind of suck at names. But not at decorating! Wait until you see the ice sculptures above our bed.”
Marion’s cheeks would have gone hot if she hadn’t been so cold underneath her scarf. “Our bed,” she echoed.
Moving in together meant that they would finally get to share a bedroom. Konig had a drawer at Marion’s house in Vancouver Island, and her quarters in the Autumn Court were adjacent to his, but they hadn’t truly shared a living space yet.
In fact, Marion hadn’t shared anything with him since waking up in Ransom Falls aside from a few kisses. Konig made passes at her. She had the kind of lingerie that had made it clear that they’d had a very active sex life. But she still didn’t remember any of it, and she balked every time things got too intense between them.
Konig had been respectful of her boundaries. He was wonderful in every way.
Now they were going to share a bedroom.
“Konig…” Marion began.
She didn’t need to finish. “There’s another room behind the king and queen’s,” he said. “It looks like it belonged to a non-unseelie member of the court. It’s enchanted to a somewhat more jungle-like climate. You might be more comfortable starting out there.”
Marion rested her head against him. “Thank you. So much.”
“Anything for my princess,” he said. “I’ll work on the perimeter wards with the knights so that you can join me in the king’s bedroom—once you’re ready.”
Even Konig, patient as he was, couldn’t mask the longing in his voice.
Sidhe were creatures who needed hedonism the way that most people needed air to breathe. Konig claimed that they would waste away without the staples of good food, good drink, and great sex—if not to the point of dying, then to the point where they could no longer cast magic.
Konig wasn’t short on food and wine, but he’d gone weeks without sex, and Marion knew it was hurting him.
She didn’t feel quite guilty enough to get over her trepidation. Her excuses for continuing to resist were rapidly dwindling, though.
They reached the throne room without falling through any holes in the floor. It was as pathetic a hall as the rest of the towers; one of the walls had been blasted away, and the icy thrones had melted into lumps. It must have been impressive at one time, though. There were giant cogs and chains of shining snow. The fact that those had survived when everything else degraded meant the magic that had erected them must have been impressive.
Marion circled the bump in the floor that had once been a throne.
“What happened here?” she asked.
“Not a clue,” Konig said. “The knights will bring some real furniture to replace all of this stupid frozen crap, though. We’ll get some proper décor in here and it’ll be great!”
Marion eyed the rolled tapestries that some of the sidhe were carrying in. One of them
was already hung, and it featured one of the forest nymphs typical of the Autumn Court. “Your mother’s choice of décor?”
“It’s easiest to just nod and smile when she gets opinionated,” Konig said.
“What about my opinions?”
“You don’t want to make the Onyx Queen angry, do you?”
Marion couldn’t tell if he was joking or not. Truthfully, she had little urge to pick fights with Violet, even less than she wanted to pick fights with the angels.
On that note… “What do you think of trying to negotiate a compromise with the angels? I was talking to Jibril and he’s interested.”
“It’s not Jibril we need to interest,” Konig said. He whirled his hands through the air, and magic splayed over the hole in the wall, blocking the harshness of the wind.
“Oh, thank the gods,” Nori sighed, finally dropping her hood. She’d followed them downstairs silently, and in the few stories they’d descended together, her eyebrows had frozen.
Marion hooked a finger in her scarf and tugged it down to expose her face. The temperature wasn’t as chilly as it had been on the balcony, but her breath still came out in foggy plumes. “Jibril seems to think we can work something out without Leliel. He wants to discuss it tonight.”
“Look at you, getting back to your old manipulative self, with all those darling little back-room deals of which you’re so fond,” Konig said. “Be practical, though. Where would we even put the angels? The mere presence of sidhe in the dimension makes the magic too intense to grow a nest.”
“The Wilds,” Marion said. It was an uninhabited swath of forest on the edge of the world. “Once we’ve moved refugees into Niflheimr, there should be enough distance to safely isolate the angels there.”
“Hmm.” He rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. “We won’t be able to repopulate the old villages.”
“We’ll also have to regrow the Wilds so that they’re less hostile,” Marion said. They had been hit hardest in the invasion by the Summer Court, and the Wilds were somewhat barren at the moment.
“How do you know that? Have you remembered?”
“I’ve been reading everything I can find on the civil war this week.”
“Cute. Very cute. Yes, we can talk to Jibril and offer the Wilds. You should let me take the lead, though.” One of his knights dropped a chair near a mirror in the back corner, and Konig hurried over. “Be careful with that! It’s an authentic looking glass!”
Marion followed him, unwilling to drop the subject. “I can lead discussions with the angels. I’ve been working with them all week at the summit.”
“Which is why it’ll be easier for me to play hardball,” Konig said. He ran his hands over the looking glass, as if searching for cracks.
Marion frowned. “I guess.”
“Do you need my help?” Nori interrupted. She’d already pulled her hood over her head again.
“I’d appreciate it if you could get some clothes from my house for me,” Marion said. Her warm house on Earth that was not a ridiculous ice castle.
Nori gave her a look of gratitude. “Of course.” She ran upstairs for the ley line, rubbing her hands together.
Konig watched her go, mouth twisting with something that resembled disapproval. “You angel types are so cold-blooded.”
“Hence why smart angels hang out in the Ethereal Levant,” Marion said.
“If they’re smart, what does that make you?”
“Steward of the Winter Court,” she said, which seemed increasingly like it was synonymous for stupid.
Konig laughed, sweeping her into his arms again. Now that her face was exposed, there was nothing to keep him from kissing her all over. He considered them to be as good as alone when they were in the company of his guard. He got very handsy.
Marion couldn’t help but laugh along with him, even though she wasn’t nearly as comfortable. His joy was infectious.
Niflheimr may have been miserable, but it was theirs.
“When did you say Jibril would be here?” he murmured, tangling his hands in her hair, lips trailing along her jaw.
Marion’s head tipped back and she sighed. “Tonight.”
“Then there’s plenty of time for us to clear out Leiptr.”
She pulled back, surprised. She’d been expecting him to make a pass at her. “The village on the shore?”
“I’ve already sent some of my parents’ army with trucks to start gathering refugees,” Konig said. “Would you like to help supervise bringing them to Niflheimr?” They’d agreed it would be safest to home the survivors of the Winter Court within the castle, but Marion had said that before seeing the condition of the castle.
Still, better the ruins of a castle than spread out in the frozen wasteland.
“Let me get another coat,” Marion said.
* * *
The instant Ymir saw the army descend on Leiptr, he knew that he had to run. It had been months since he’d seen an attack from the Summer Court, and he had no clue why they’d have returned to attack again, but the reasons were irrelevant. The sidhe were relentless hunters.
The twisting alleys were narrow enough that only a child of Ymir’s size would be able to fit within them, so they were his refuge. The sound of the approaching army echoed against the ice-encrusted walls, magnifying the sounds of descending sidhe a thousand-fold. The seelie invaders wouldn’t need to fit into the alleys to kill Ymir; they had proven that they only needed to shoot bolts of magic down those narrow paths.
It was pointless for Ymir to run, yet he still tried. He would keep trying until the seelie collapsed a cave on him the way that they had his parents.
He squeezed behind the back wall of an inn—a space that offered perhaps twenty centimeters between building and the sheet of ice bordering the southern edge of Leiptr. The ice was so thick that no light could penetrate it, though it did glow faintly. Ymir’s frightened face reflected back at him, distorted in the waves, fragmented by captive bubbles.
The army’s motion was reflected on the ice as well.
They were coming.
Shouts followed him as he squirmed around the corner of the inn. He dropped into a window well, crouching down to hide behind the ground.
Moments later, seeking spells flitted past him like deadly little acid fireflies. Their mere proximity carved divots into the ice wall. The melt trickled a few inches before freezing again.
Ymir peered through the frosted window to the inn. There was an uninhabited storage room on the other side.
Were those boxes filled with food? Or instruments of war?
He was weak with need—too weak to pry the window open on the first try. But he kept wiggling his fingers in the cracks, pushing and pulling until ice snapped. The window opened. It was narrower even than the alley behind the inn, but he was very thin with hunger.
Ymir dropped inside the storage room. Light flashed outside as more seeking spells darted overhead, barely missing him.
The nearest of the crates was a big plastic red thing with black latches. It wasn’t locked, but his cold fingers fumbled to throw the lid open.
There was no food or weapons inside.
It was filled with furs. Blankets. Coats. The sort of accouterments that an invading force unaccustomed to the cold would need to survive in the Winter Court.
Ymir couldn’t hold back his sob.
Someone moved on the other side of the storage room door. The handle twisted.
He dropped to the floor behind the crate and peered around the edge to see a willowy woman slam the door, flattening her back to it as she let out a sigh.
She wasn’t one of the sidhe warriors who had ransacked villages throughout the Winter Court. Ymir had seen enough of them that he’d have recognized their cruel inner glow, far harsher than that of the seeking spells. This woman was olive-skinned and pale-eyed. Her body was wrapped in so many furs that it overwhelmed her form.
The woman felt around her pockets. Plastic crinkled.
A wrapper.
She had food.
A longing groan escaped Ymir before he could stop himself. Her gaze snapped up, pale eyes focusing on him in the shadows behind the box.
“Why, hello,” she said.
He scrambled for the window. It was still open, gusting frigid wind into the basement.
“Wait!” the woman called.
Ymir jumped, trying to reach the window. He missed.
“I can share with you,” she said.
He finally turned.
The woman was still hanging by the door, extending the food toward him with one hand. She pulled her furred hat off with the other hand, allowing mounds of chestnut curls to tumble free around her shoulders. She had a pleasant, open face.
“It’s a granola bar,” she added when he didn’t move. “You can have it. I have another one.”
“Yes please.” Ymir edged toward her. She handed him the unwrapped bar, and their hands brushed. She was so warm that it hurt.
Leaping back toward the crate of furs, he scarfed the bar down too quickly, watching her out of the corner of his eye.
She shed her cloak. Underneath, she wore a long white blouse over slim-cut jeans and snow boots. She was human. A human in the Winter Court. It made no sense. But she wasn’t sidhe, and it had been a long time since Ymir had seen anyone who was friendly.
“My name is Marion,” she said. “Who are you?”
He swallowed down the last bite of granola bar. “Ymir.”
“Ymir,” Marion echoed. “What are you doing in here, Ymir?”
“Hiding from the army,” he said.
“Funny, I am too,” she said.
“You’re hiding from the seelie? Why do the seelie want a human?”
She surprised Ymir by laughing. She sat on the floor to be closer to his level, using her furs to keep herself off of the dirty floor.
He started to edge away again.
“The seelie armies are nowhere near here,” Marion said. “I’m hiding from the Autumn Court’s army. They’re moving survivors to Niflheimr for safety’s sake. That’s what I’m doing here. Helping the army. But they are asking a lot of questions of me, and it’s very tiring, so I thought I’d take a break.” She held out another granola bar. “Still hungry?”