Forever Frost (Bitter Frost, #2)

by Kailin Gow

  Rodney felled his final knight, and then rounded on Flynn.

  “I'll take it from here,” he called, and Kian ran over to me, helping me up. In the distance we could hear the terrible flapping and clashing of wings as the Fairies, one by one, revealed their expansive wingspans.

  “Are you all right?” Kian hugged me tightly, leading me behind a tree. I could not answer. My eyes were fixed on my father, battling away with the full force of his life.

  At last my father felled his man, and I was able to breathe.

  “Are these...are these your friends?” I asked.

  “Some of them,” said Kian. “Others I do not know. But they attacked a peaceful rally. They acted dishonorably.”

  He pressed my forehead close to his lips. “And,” he said. “They threatened you.”

  “Kian...” I breathed, gasping heavily. “I want to stay. I...I am staying...in Feyland.”

  All around us, the Winter Knights were being defeated. The few that remained alive scrambled to their feet, retreating in a flurry of wings to the sky. Flynn gave us a menacing scowl, but he too dashed – unable to face certain death at the hands of the Summer Court.

  “I know,” said Kian softly. “I dreamed of you last night. But it was not a dream – a mere dream. It was a vision. I knew Feyland had claimed you as its own. And I knew...I knew to follow you, to help you.” He smiled weakly. “I am your intended, after all. And the magic has laid its claim to us. We are bound by it.”

  “Oh, Kian...” I could not resist kissing him – his lips, his face, his eyelids and his cheeks. “I want so much...”

  We heard a sharp “Ahem!” and turned around. My father stood before us, his chain mail stained with blood, with the proud stance of a paternal lion, and only a hint of a bemused grin on his face.

  “The Winter Knights have all been defeated,” said my father. “Save one.” He put a sword against the tip of Kian's throat. For a moment I felt a flicker of fear, until I realized precisely what it was my father had seen us doing. Even in fairy world, I imagined, fathers protected their daughters much in the same way.

  “Who is this Winter Knight who remains?” asked my father in a feigned growl. “Clinging to my daughter as if his life depended on it.”

  “This is Kian,” I said, my voice gaining in strength and confidence. “Prince of the Winter Court. Friend and protector to me. And...” my voice grew even louder. “My intended.”

  “I see.” My father stepped back. “I remember promising to you each other – but you were children then. And in light of the war...”

  “He is my intended,” I said again.

  “It is not your intentions that worry me,” said my father. “Now, sir,” he turned to Kian. “You have fought bravely and honorably – stopping an illegal raid – but I cannot ask you to the Summer Court. It would be...unthinkable. But I shall allow you to...well...to say goodbye, shall we? We shall set up camp for the night in the glen over there – Bree, join us when you are ready. You must thank your...protector.”

  With a knowing, if cautious, smile, my father left us alone.

  I thrust my arms around Kian's neck the moment that we were in private.

  “I don't want to let you go again,” I cried.

  He held me closer.

  “You won't,” he said. “I promise. Not again. Never again.”

  I closed my eyes.

  “It won't be easy,” he said, “I cannot visit you at your court. You cannot visit me at mine. But there is always a way. Love will find a way.”

  He kissed me again.

  “Breena,” he whispered. “Meet me at the hunting lodge. In three days' time – at sundown. Can you do that?”

  “I'll try,” I whispered back.

  He kissed me once more, the tightest, most powerful, most passionate kiss I had ever known.

  “Love will find a way,” he said.

  He mounted his horse and rode off.

  Chapter 19

  At last we arrived together back at the Summer Court. The palace stood awe-inspiring before us, the orange light of sunset casting a ripe, rich glow over the shining marble. Was this to be my new home, I wondered? Last time I had been here as a prisoner, but here I was, coming at my father's side, arriving as a princess. The Summer Guards bowed down before us as we passed, offering us gestures of remarkable respect. They touched their swords to their foreheads, their eyes downcast. I was a Princess now, I thought – and I tried to remember how elegantly Shasta had behaved in the royal court of the Winter Kingdom and to emulate it.

  I held my head up as straight as I could, walked the way I remembered Shasta walking – as if I were floating mid-air above the throng – and let my father squeeze my hand to give me confidence. There was nothing to worry about, I told myself. The Summer Queen would acquiesce to my father's wishes. I would be safe here. This was my home now.

  But fear rose in my throat as we approached the antechamber, where the Queen sat on her throne.

  Redleaf, I thought. I hadn't known her name beforehand, nor truly understood her story. Seeing her sit immobile, implacable on her throne, her pain and rage masked by a plastic smile, I could not help but feel sorry for her, to feel sorry for my presence. I gulped and looked down at the floor.

  “My darling wife,” my father said, lightly. “My Queen.” He went to her and kissed her hand; she allowed him to take it, barely even seeming to notice his lips touching her fingers.

  “I see you have brought my replacement,” said the Queen, staring at me with piercing eyes, full of fiery hatred. “And I thought you were such a good, obedient girl, Breena.”

  “I mean you no disrespect,” I stammered. “You are my Queen. I am here to spend time with my father, not to usurp...”

  “Your father?” she spat, looking up at him. “Her father?” She laughed. “You barely even knew the girl! Now, her mother, on the other hand...”

  I had reminded her of my father's love for my mother – inadvertently – and I could see from her face that this was even worse.

  “And now that there is a golden chestnut-haired Summer Princess about, perhaps the people will be reminded that I am but a flame-haired Autumn woman – that I am as foreign as this...this...half-breed. Is that what you want of me, my dear Foxflame?” Her voice was chilling, measured, cold. She did not raise it above the terrifying even tones of polite conversation. “After I have ruled the Kingdom in your absence while you have been off...consorting with your concubines!”

  “Leave us!” my father barked at the guards.

  They marched away immediately; the Summer Queen stood, free now to speak louder, and speak louder she did.

  “Leaving me to run a war and a kingdom by myself!”

  “I admit,” my father said quietly, “that in my youth I have been...indiscreet. I left you to run a kingdom when you and I were both mere children, too young to bear these responsibilities alone. But it has been nearly fourteen years since Raine and Breena left the Summer Kingdom, and in that time I have only rarely consorted with any concubine.”

  (Only rarely! I thought)

  “I have stayed away from the Court for other reasons, which you well know. You have always been the strong one – the powerful one – and I believed we had an understanding. Your political will – my private will. I would leave you the throne – the throne I never wanted, Redleaf, and you would...” his voice broke, “...be kind regarding my weaknesses.”

  “Her mother, you mean.”

  “Yes, her mother.”

  My sympathy for the Summer Queen began to sour! So, she had manipulated my father's love for my mother in order to gain more power on the throne! This wasn't quite the abandoned woman, scraping together a kingdom, that she had seemed to me earlier.

  “I have not been with concubines these many years,” said my father. “I have been among the people of our Court – watching them, relaying their needs to your advisors, spending time in the real world outside this castle.”

  “There is not
hing outside this castle!” cried the Summer Queen. “The only power that matters is here.” She placed her hand on the throne. “And now you want this young strumpet to sit beside me.”

  “I want my daughter to sit beside you,” said my father. “And sit beside me. I cannot stay away any longer – neglecting my duties for your sake. I am home now – home to rule.”

  “And I no longer matter?”

  “You are my Queen,” he said softly – gently, even. “You will always matter. You will always rule alongside me.”

  “As your consort,” she spat. “Not as your equal.”

  “That is the way of the land,” he said. “I have no control over that!”

  “You had control when carousing with your concubine! You had control when coming back here – expecting everything to be the same...it will not be the same!”

  “Redleaf, please...”

  “I will not allow it!” Tears began streaming down her face, tears of rage as much as of sadness. “I have ruled this kingdom – I have fought wars.”

  “Your war,” said my father. “I would have been happy to make peace...”

  “My people know the life of Summer. But we know death, too – death and rebirth, renewal and decay – that is my way!”

  “Your power is great,” he said, trying to be tactful.

  “Great, yes,” and then she smiled a terrible smile. “Great enough for this.” In a flash, a sudden, terrifying bolt of lightning ricocheted through the room, shaking the walls.

  “Dad!” I cried, my voice escaping my body before I could control it.

  When the smoke cleared, I saw my father's body lying prostrate on the marble floor.

  “Dad!” I cried again, rushing to him. I looked up at the Summer Queen, shaking. “Is he…?”

  “And leave you the throne?” she scoffed. “No, he's alive. For now. He is asleep.” Her voice took on an eerie kindness. “He's quite tired, you see, Breena. He's had a long voyage. And he'll be asleep – for a very long time...”

  “Everything you said, about my father abandoning you, about him being away - it was all a lie...” I tried to process my feelings.

  “Not a lie,” she said. “Not at first. At first – he did run off to womanize. And at first I was forced to run this kingdom on my own. It was only later, you see, that I realized – I began to enjoy it. I could mandate legislation to benefit my Autumn people – now subjugated under the Summer name. I could have my will enacted. I was, in essence, the most powerful woman in Feyland. Why...sacrifice that? Why sacrifice that for a man who never even loved me?”

  She rang a bell.

  From a passageway I had not seen before emerged a short, toad-like man, with bright, bushy flaming hair.

  “Wort,” she said. “See to it that the King is placed somewhere...comfortable for his rest. He may be asleep a while.”

  “Of course, my Queen,” he said with a sniveling grin.

  “Please...” my voice trailed off. There was nothing I could say to her.

  “I think the King's escorts should be sent on another mission, don't you? As quickly as possible! Perhaps up north, to the Pixie strongholds. A heroic mission – don't you think? So brave – so unlikely they'll survive it...”

  “Naturally...what a pity...” said Wort.

  “I do not tolerate betrayal here,” said the Queen. “Not from knights. Not from my husband. And certainly not from you, girl...”

  “I didn't...”

  “You gave me your word that you would leave here! You lied!”

  “I didn't lie – I didn't know...”

  “I would have been happy to let you go – be free – be happy away from me. But you betrayed me. And you will be punished. Just as Rodney will be punished for his betrayal.”

  She saw my stricken face.

  “Yes, my advisors have told me all about that. He will be executed – tomorrow, in fact. Don't worry – child – I won't execute you! You're Foxflame's child – the Kingdom wouldn't have it! But he's “ill” - you see – and I shall rule in his illness. And by the time he wakes up, you will be dead. Of old age. For we fairies do not age, after a point. It is only murder that can kill us. How terrible, to outlive one's own child. Unnatural. That is why fairy-human unions are so disgusting, so unnatural.”

  “Please...” I whispered again.

  “And your mother will be dead, too.”

  “Just let me go – I'll go home across the River – I promise...”

  “I don't trust you enough to let you loose. Why should I?” she snapped. “Wort, take this girl to a guest room.”

  Wort seized my arms. “Come on then,” he said.

  “And yes,” said the Queen. “I know about your boy, too. The Winter One. Pity you won't be seeing him again, either. Ever again...”

  “No!” I cried out, but it was too late. Wort was dragging me away – down the halls of the Summer Court, away from my father, away from safety...

  I was a prisoner once more.

  Chapter 20

  I did not sleep all that night. I couldn't sleep. My mind was on fire. I couldn't stop thinking about Rodney and his execution – at dawn, the Summer Queen had said. I thought of Shasta – did she know? Could she stop him? I remembered how happy and how close the two had looked, how much they loved each other. And I had inadvertently separated them – forever! My heart writhed with guilt. I paced the spartan floors of my bedchamber and rattled over and over at the locked door, but there was no use. The Summer Court was composed of far better trained guards than the chaos of the Pixie Court, there was no chance of escape.

  The night seemed to go on forever – I was alone with my thoughts, and they terrified me – and yet I never wanted the night to end, for the ending of the night spelled dawn, and with dawn came death. I saw the blood-red fingers of the morning spread out across the sky and then I knew it was too late. There was nothing I could do to save Rodney.

  I peered at the gallows being built in the courtyard through the bars of my window.

  Please, I closed my eyes and tried to think of Kian. Please, Kian – wherever you are – help me. I felt my love for him surge into my heart. I focused all my energy on his face, his voice. We had been able to connect telepathically in the past – I prayed now that we could do so again.

  Help me.

  Like an electric shock, I felt his voice echoing back to me.

  I'm on my way.

  Get Shasta.

  She's gone...

  Gone? Had the Queen's advisors assassinated Shasta, too? I swallowed hard and tried not to think about it.

  When the sky had at last been enveloped in a golden, pink glow, I heard a rough, brutal knock at the door.

  “Princess,” the voice mocked me. “You are summoned to the execution!” The door swung open. It was Wort, the Queen's toady adviser.

  “Please,” I begged him. “Don't do this! Rodney is a brave, loyal servant of the Crown.”

  “Just be glad it isn't your own execution, Princess. The Summer and Winter Courts cannot intermingle. The people are baying for his blood.”

  “Because you started this war!” I shouted! I had no doubt that Wort and the Summer Queen were at the root of all this chaos in Feyland.

  “You will not finish it, Princess,” he said, and along with some armed guards escorted me to the courtyard.

  As a child I had played here, wandering in and out of the fragrant orange trees and rose bushes. But now it was a cruel place – a place of sacrifice, of execution. I did not like it here.

  The scaffolding had been erected, and a crowd had gathered to watch the execution, crying out horrible slurs - “Winter-lover!” “Ice-heart!” in voices filled with pure hatred. Rodney stood chained on the scaffolding, his gaze proud and resolute.

  The Summer Queen sat upon her throne, her eyes terrible and implacable. “Sit by me, Breena, dearest.” She smiled her horrible smile at me. “Let's watch the show together.” I felt the firm, uncompromising hand of Wort pushing me downwards into
my seat. “It will be...entertaining.” She looked directly outward. There was no chance of mercy coming from her.

  My heart was beating like a hummingbird – hundreds and thousands of short, sharp beats, fear rising in my throat. We had the maximum view of Rodney's stern, kind face, of the executioner's axe, of the shadow of that cruel steel cast over Rodney's face. I didn't want to watch. I couldn't bear to see him die. I thought of Shasta.

  Kian...

  My love...

  Even his voice, echoing through my head, could not calm me. Tears were pouring down my cheeks.

  “Not crying for a traitor, are we?” asked the Queen.

  “No, your Highness,” I said, turning towards her and holding her gaze. “I am not.” Rodney was not a traitor.

  “We are ready,” said the Queen, and the bugle sounded – a harsh, horrible sound.

  I scanned the crowd – looking for Kian, for Shasta, for my father, for anybody who could help me, who could stop this terrible thing from happening.

  “One,” announced the Queen, and the executioner's hand gripped more tightly on his axe.

  My heartbeat grew faster; I could not breathe.

  “Two.” I clutched my hands so hard that my nails dug into my fingers and made them bleed.

  “Three...” I closed my eyes, unable to look, unable to see...

  There was a flash and a sound – and suddenly everyone around me was standing – there was shouting and commotion everywhere, voices disassociated from bodies, shouting, crying, screaming...

  I turned my face back towards the scaffolding. Rodney was gone.

  I saw a flash of black whirling through the crowd – Rodney in tow – and then vanishing, no more substantial than a shadow.

  Suddenly another flash, and the figure was right near me, so close I could feel the breathing breeze from its cloak. I heard a horrible slashing sound and then it was gone again – Rodney was gone – and there was blood everywhere and there were shouts and I could not put together what was happening. I was covered in blood – it stuck in my hair and rolled down my cheeks – and then I heard Wort's words, and it all made sense to me.