The Snow Queen (Not Quite the Fairy #4)

by May Sage

  The Snow Queen

  Not Quite the Fairy Tale

  © May Sage 2016

  ISBN-13: 978-1530512997

  ISBN-10: 1530512999

  When the gods wish to punish us

  They answer our prayers

  Oscar Wilde

  And She Wakes

  Time was a strange notion to those of her blood. Eira wasn't sure how many seasons she'd seen, but it was a fair few – enough so that every single thing she could do had become routine.

  One day, the prospect of opening her eyes became oppressive, so she slept.

  And slept.

  And slept.

  The call wasn't more than a whisper at the back of her mind, but it effortlessly broke through the haze.

  Help, the child said.

  Eira wasn't sure how that was possible. No younglings able to talk to her mind should exist in this world. Not anymore.

  She could easily have ignored it, but curiosity – a feeling she wasn’t used to – needled her mind. Opening her lids took a while, sitting up, longer yet: her muscles had lost all of their force during her little nap, which did indicate that the slumber might have lasted a while, this time.

  Looking down, she saw that her limbs were practically blue. Frozen. She pushed up to her feet, ignoring the pain; she felt the cold, but the knowledge that it couldn't harm her allowed her to ignore it.

  Each step was an effort; she stumbled at first, like a clumsy fawn.

  By the time she'd reached the entrance of her cave, she'd regained her balance, her color, and outside, a torrential storm indicated that her powers were just fine, too.

  Chapter One

  Another child was gone.

  They’d located him, but by the time they’d made it, it had been too late. He’d already been changed.

  Over the last twenty years, only twelve children had been born to his clan. Five of them had made it; three had died, and four had been enslaved.

  “It’s not your fault,” Gerda told him, just like she’d said every single time they lost one of their own.

  He shrugged off the hand she’d rested on his shoulder, needing to distance himself from her.

  It wasn’t his fault – the fault rested with the monsters who hunted them down like animals. But little Flin had been his responsibility nonetheless. They all were. And he’d failed them.

  Kai was the last of the Eldorian alive. Some called him Prince or King; he didn’t accept either title. Princes and Kings sat on thrones, within solid walls, and kept their people content, safe.

  Kai’s idea of ruling had been leading them to the frozen wasteland they now called home.

  As soon as he’d become old enough to be called a man, back when his father had still been alive, Kai had led a quest. He’d explored the whole of Gaia to find the remaining free elves, would they be woodland, water, light or dark – those distinctions didn’t matter, to a race so close to extinction.

  Before the quest, there had been close to sixty elves in his clan; now, they were three hundred and ninety seven.

  Three hundred and ninety six, he corrected himself.

  Blast! He hated feeling that powerless; hatred and darkness made him colder every day. He recalled a time when he’d known how to laugh, when he’d played with the children – he couldn’t now.

  Objectively, Kai knew he’d done his best.

  He’d found these mountains by chance in his travels, following a rumor about slavers who targeted elves in the area.

  He should have headed straight back, but something had called to him, pushing his feet north, and Kai knew not to ignore such feelings.

  He’d had reasons to be shocked when he’d opened his eyes to a series of infinitively tall, threatening peaks, higher than any mounts in Europa.

  It wasn’t on maps, and he’d hit a ward so strong it had almost brought him to his knees, when he’d stepped too close to the highest peak.

  The entire chain of mounts was warded, but the protection grew exceptionally powerful the higher up he went.

  It also grew cold; colder than anywhere else in Gaia.

  That had been his grand idea; the place where he’d lead his people.

  To be fair, it had worked: it was their first loss since the move.

  Kai’s decision might have saved a lot of them, but fuck, had he given them a life worth living? They were scavenging for food, forever looking for water, fighting the torrential snow.

  Kai was out of his depth; he needed help, badly.

  But who would come to his aid? He’d considered appealing to a modern kingdom, such as Alenia – especially given the fact that both the King and Queen were fay descents – offering their skills as healers, fighters, in exchange for a place in the new world his kind wouldn’t survive without allies; but it was a risk he couldn’t take.

  Kai’s folks used to be as well-known as the fays, as populous as humans; now they were neither and it might be for the best.

  The last time an elf had sought to make a deal with a human, they’d paid dearly for it. They’d found out their weakness, and were still exploiting it, enslaving any elf they could capture.

  Kai was strolling through the frozen forest, almost knees deep in snow, trying to calm his fury, his sense of betrayal, before he returned to the village, when his snarl suddenly disappeared, replaced by curiosity, first, then apprehension.

  The girl was completely out of place here. Despite his stronger constitution, Kai wore long pants, and his coat was made of thick wool and lined with fur.

  She was enveloped in nothing warmer than leather jacket and a pair of leggings; that was it. No gloves, no hat, no scarf. Even her shoes were dreadfully impractical: at least, they were boots, but the fashionable, pretty kind with a wedged heel which did wonderful things to the shape of her legs.

  Disastrous as her attire could be, it wasn't the worst of it, because more pressingly at the minute, there was a bear close to her; a live wild, enormous bear, and she didn’t even seem to see it.

  He cursed under his breath.

  That this set-up might be some sort of trap crossed his mind, but he was not leaving her there. It wasn't the way Kai had been raised. Like it or not, he was the one who cared for, fed and protected the weak.

  For the first time, he understood those who called him Prince, aloof and unenthusiastic as he might be. It wasn’t because he was the heir to a throne he, like all his fathers before him, would never sit on, but it might have to do with the fact that he just couldn’t help acting the part.

  Another man might have turned around rather than face one of the most ginormous bears he’d ever come across in his life, but with or without a crown, princes did not condemn women to their death.

  Chapter Two

  The previous day, Jereena

  She didn’t dislike the child; her youthful vigor entertained her.

  You’ll be just like me in half a millennium.

  Her thought felt bitter to her own ears; truth was, she knew the child would be nothing like her.

  Because contrarily to Eira, Belle Archer wasn’t alone.

  Belle begged her to help her understand her own existence, and Eira didn’t exactly have a busy schedule – given the fact that everyone she’d known was either dead or stuck in another dimension – so she stayed.

  After two seasons, though, she couldn’t deny the prospect of leaving her bed grew more and more painful everyday.

  She was bored and the boredom would soon make her sleep.

  “You can’t leave!”

  Belle could pout and beg and give those puppy dog eyes all she wanted; Eira wasn’t born yesterday. Or the century before. Or the millennium before that, to tell the
truth.

  She needed to go, now, before it was too late.

  She knew she’d start hibernating eventually, and that could not happen in Jereena, or anywhere near mortal civilization.

  While Eira couldn't actually think of one reason why, she was rather attached to her life – which meant that she wasn't letting a coward behead her in her sleep.

  “I have to; and soon. Tomorrow, in fact.”

  It wasn’t only her fear of sleeping in this vulnerable place, something called her back to her home; a strange feeling whispered that she was needed there.

  “You’ll come back for the christening?” Belle tried, when everyway she’d begged her to change her mind had failed.

  Eira glanced down to the stomach which had been flat when they’d met; there was a little bulge now.

  The answer should have been “no,” or a noncommittal shrug, at least, but when she talked, it was to say “yes, I think I might.”

  Strange. It didn’t even feel like a lie.

  Despite the complaints, Eira left first thing the following morning: it would be a long journey, and she had no intention to start it in the dark.

  While most of the distance could be covered travelling with the wind, she knew the road to her home wasn’t going to be an easy hike.

  She disappeared from her room in the Jereenan palace, and followed the winds to the border of the Northanger Peaks.

  The kind of wards she'd place on her domain meant that no one – her included – could enter it anyway but by foot.

  Eira grumbled on her way up; why the shit had she come up with that stupid rule? Or was it “why the hell”?

  She wondered at her use of modern idioms for a while, before shrugging; she wasn't staying awake long enough to justify learning the correct use of this century’s slang.

  By lunchtime, she was a quarter of the way up, when she reached a village she didn't recall.

  Eira frowned, displeased.

  She was used to finding new things outside, but her chain of mountains had been the one unchanging constant – no mortal was silly enough to wish to reside here, in the perpetually frozen wasteland she called home.

  There were so many pleasant territories that she could have claimed, but pleasant meant populous, and she valued her peace and quiet.

  Going to sleep for centuries wasn't easy; in fact, it was point blank impossible, unless she entirely emptied her mind and numbed her powers. Otherwise, she just took a nap and woke up within months, years at best.

  Meeting people was the last thing she needed now; if she found any of them interesting, she might wonder about them and curiosity had already awoken her once.

  Eira gave the town a wide berth and carried on, following the path.

  She’d reached a clearing where a white bear was licking a dirty puddle, trying to quench his thirst.

  Eira frowned again, when an unexpectedly acute pang of guilt made it through her mental shields.

  There wasn't any large source of fresh water down these parts, because everything was frozen. Everything was frozen by her wishes. How many creatures had died of thirst here? Their fault for staying, she told herself; but it had been their land, before she’d taken it, stealing what she wanted like every god before her.

  “Hey you! Come with me.”

  She wasn't sure which tongue she used, but the animal lifted his head and enthusiastically ran towards her.

  He was the very opposite of a pet yet, as he was bidden, he slowed down to follow her steps.

  There used to be some sort of a pool around there, she was certain of it.

  When she found it, it was entirely solid, as expected. She put both hands on the thick ice, and sent a jolt of her energy right through it.

  The transformation was quick; the white, unchanging block of ice melted and soon, there was water everywhere.

  Eira was already paying the price for it: she started to feel.

  The beauty of the silver and blue world around her struck her afresh, and she smiled faintly at the beast, making a mess as he gorged himself.

  Other things she’d blocked out were less pleasant. Now that her carefully constructed walls around her heart had faded, Eira found that she was cold, and hungry, too.

  She looked down at her shaking hand, and tried to warm them by rubbing them together, blowing steam on her fingers – all in vain. Anything coming from her lungs right now was colder than the air around her.

  It was an absolute disaster; cold and hungry meant that she wasn't even a little bit comfortable – and being uncomfortable meant she wouldn’t be sleepy.

  She managed to control herself, firmly reminding her body that she could live without food, and that the temperature would not harm her.

  But you’re hungry. Come on, a piece of bread wouldn’t hurt, either.

  But it would; anything in her stomach would prevent her fall into eversleep.

  You’re stronger than that. Don’t you give up now.

  It was strange to recognize a dose of fear; she couldn’t understand why going to sleep was quite so important right now.

  Sure, she knew she had to, and soon, but her mind was desperate to get there right now, as soon as possible, as though it expected a disaster if she failed to.

  Eira knew better than to ignore it: there was something game-changing brewing under the surface.

  She was no coward, but waiting for an unknown threat wasn’t in her nature, either.

  Getting up to her feet, she resolved to make haste and turned, only to hit an unexpected solid form.

  Chapter Three

  Cursing at her uncharacteristic clumsiness, Eira looked up. And up. And up.

  She was not used to feeling small; right now, she did.

  It turn out the form had belonged to a man, who stood a good foot above her frame. She took in his features – the strong jaw, the delicate mouth, the forest green eyes and more notably, the long ears.

  Not a man, then. An elf.

  That did make things marginally better; elves hated her kind, like every other breed of mortals, but she tolerated them more than humans.

  They lived longer, for one.

  “Careful,” he told her, his smooth, deep voice pleasant, as elves’ generally were, but she could tell, by the expression his face bore, that he’d meant it to be harsh. “Don't make a noise and move this way.”

  His eyes were fixed on the poor thirsty bear; Eira might have laughed, if he hadn't been right to fear him. Bears were dangerous.

  To anyone who wasn't her, that is.

  Eira surprised herself by obeying, letting the hand he'd pushed against her back guide her away.

  Soon, they reached the path she was supposed to follow north, but he tried to lead her south; that, she protested against.

  “Thank you,” she said politely, hoping against all hope that she'd gone for the right tongue. As his frown didn't deepen, she guessed she had. “But I'm heading that way.”

  She gave the general direction of her home, and the elf laughed humorlessly.

  “There's nothing, that way.”

  She shrugged.

  “That's what those who don't care to seek answers say to those who discover wonders.”

  “An explorer, then?” He hazarded. “Well, I can believe that. Somehow, I doubt they'd send a spy who looked like you.”

  Eira wondered how she looked.

  She was well aware of her physical features, but they were perceived differently every time she awoke.

  In her youth, she'd been ordinary, quite plain, in comparison to the likes of Aphrodite, Medusa, Frejya and Persephone.

  When the other gods were gone, she'd been intimidating; too tall, too graceful, too quick and quiet. Five centuries after, waking from her first long nap, they'd called her a demon; then she'd become a painter’s muse.

  She didn't change – hadn't since her first century. Her hair was dark ash, her eyes icy blue. Her skin wasn't pale, ironically; she looked sunkissed, unless she used too much of her power
in one go. Then, everything went white, from head to toes.

  She glanced at him, trying to determine whether he seemed repulsed, intimidated or attracted, but she saw nothing. The elf was still frowning, trying to make her out, however past his puzzlement, she had no idea what he thought of her.

  Perhaps she was ordinary, then?

  She was occupying herself with those conjectures when his eyes fell on her ears. He swore out loud.

  “You're human,” he assumed – erroneously. “You must be freezing.”

  And before letting her answer, he'd removed his own coat and wrapped it around her shoulders.

  Her denial fell flat on her lips as the warmth spread through her iced up bones. The material was delightfully warm and smelt tantalizing – pine and musk, mixed with something she couldn't put her finger on. She liked it, though.

  The elf was now wearing a long dark jumper held at his waist by a belt fitted with a dagger, and heavy black boots; a million times more practical than the shoes she'd been given by Belle, who, to be fair, had probably not imagined she'd be climbing up mountains.

  “I cannot keep this. You'll be cold.”

  And cold could harm him; it did nothing to her.

  “I'll get another one,” the male shrugged. “Where are you headed? If you were looking for Virvolla, it’s miles south.”

  He must have referred to the fortified city she'd passed before entering her lands.

  “I'm going up.”

  “You're not dressed or equipped for going up,” he protested impatiently.

  Eira scrutinized his eyes, trying to read what would make him let her go.

  And nothing.

  The elf was shielded, which made him exquisitely interesting.

  Eira recognized a kindred soul: like her, he was controlling his mind, making himself indifferent to the world.