Brae had sworn an oath never to speak of her sisters or their escape. The possibility that her sisters were still alive plagued the usurper, and Brae had been told that to speak their names would mean her life. If her sisters had lived to fight another day, then Brae would not risk losing her life before she had a chance to rise beside them and take down the man who called himself king, Roderick Kael.
Closing her eyes, she saw her father’s face. Vihaan Sundragon had been a good and fair king. He’d done his best to rule over the people of Nfaros with a firm but generous hand. But the blood of Kael had always been greedy and had risen, using sweet, poisonous words to turn her father’s people against him. Vihaan still stood tall in her memory, his silver hair falling in gentle waves to his shoulders and his long fur cloak, the one that Brae used to snuggle against, draped across his shoulders. She still remembered how his beard scraped against her little fingers when she used to scratch it. She still remembered the feel of his heartbeat against her cheek when she would curl up on his lap.
Brae shuddered when the evening bells clanged through the city streets. The bells had rung every night since her sisters had been driven from Sunkai. The sound sent the people scattering down the streets to their homes, out of sight of the nightly patrol that came through the city, checking every cloaked figure sleeping in alleys. Brae wished she could help the unfortunates, the loyalists who still called out for the Sundragon to return to the throne. They had been thrown from their homes for their loyalty. Everything they ever owned had been taken into the custody of the greedy king.
“I must see you home now, Brae.” Brecken’s hot breath tickled her cheek. “Litia will leave Noelle soon to return home before the last bell.”
“I know.” Brae wiggled her toes in the sand once more as her husband drew her away from the water, his hands firmly clasped at her waist. “The air grows colder.”
“It is a familiar wind.” Brecken raised his face toward the darkening sky.
“One we have not felt in a very long time.”
“True.” He kissed the curve of her neck, turning her slowly to face him.
“When will the watching stop?” Brae wondered, tilting her head. “When will I sleep in peace knowing there is no armored guard at my door, threatening my life and that of my child?”
“When you renounce the name and memory of Sundragon.” Brecken’s fingers tingled her skin as he stroked her cheek. “When you kneel before King Roderick and acknowledge him to be the true and rightful king by birthright.”
“How can you say this when you know he is not?” Brae’s eyes flooded. “You know it is not true.”
“I say only what I believe, and what I have believed for the past five years.”
His words did not match the look in his eyes. Brae watched the doubt fill his dark gaze as his confidence waned beneath the mask of his words. She knew Brecken Jandry better than anyone else in the world, and she knew how true his heart was. He would not renounce Roderick Kael, no matter how strong his love for her. But that did not mean he didn’t doubt.
“He whispers lies in your ears, and you kneel before him,” Brae rasped. “I whisper truth to you, and you turn your back on me. Will it never change, husband?”
Bending to snatch her slippers from the ground, Brae removed herself from his touch. She lifted her skirts, climbing the small incline back to the stone steps which would lead her into the city. Their living quarters had been given to them by the king, shared with the other families of his officers. Brae did not speak to the other wives, even as they shared a kitchen to cook for their families. Knowing that each of them had betrayed her father to his death had soured her stomach, and the silence between them had become a habit over the years. Brae wished only for acceptance for her daughter among the children. She did not want her child to grow up as the traitor they had named her mother.
Strength comes from the fire in your heart. You are a Sundragon, Brae. May your flame never go out.
Brae smiled, rubbing the warmth in the center of her chest. Those words had been the last gift her sister Adlae had bestowed on her before she sacrificed her possible freedom for the lives of her sisters. Adlae’s claim to the throne held strong today, and Brae wished only for the chance to spread the word of her sister’s survival to those who would have the courage to act against the usurper. Doubt would remain, but Brae knew that as long as the flame inside her heart burned, her sister still lived.
The strange looks she received from the customers of the evening market were familiar to her and ones she turned away from. Brae could sense Brecken following close behind her, prepared to defend her if anyone should try to stop her on the street. Yet she also knew that he kept his distance, aware of her foul mood toward him. The love she felt for her husband was strong, but she knew that love was not strong enough to bridge the gap between them concerning Roderick Kael. They would never be truly united until one of them turned from the thing they believed in most for nearly their entire lives.
Brae turned sharply down the alley, taking the back staircase, which would lead her directly to their quarters. Her toes grazed against the rough stone as she bounced on the balls of her feet to the top of the steps. Pausing at the door, she turned, looking over her shoulder where Brecken remained at the bottom. She knew he wouldn’t follow her up the steps; she knew that until the bells chimed the midnight hour, he would stand watch at the Blood Keep. His routine was the same each night and would not change. Not until the world shifted. Not until the first snow fell.
Not until the ice shatters over the sea and the wind chills our skin. Nothing will change until the Queen comes.
Brae turned from his penetrating gaze and slammed the door behind her.
The Ice Mountains
Crisp air swirled flurries over the Ice Mountains. The crystal flowers crinkled as they opened, revealing their small, curled inhabitants. The Winter Queen smiled, raising a snowy hand to touch one of the heart-shaped petals with the tip of her finger. The tiny, winged figure inside raised her head. The face was one the Winter Queen had come to know well, one who had sustained her and urged her toward fulfillment of her quest. Little iridescent wings fluttered, sending sprinkles of snow over the petals.
Frost gathered on the Winter Queen’s hand as the sweet creature floated into the air, a rose-red smile gracing her little lips. The Winter Queen raised her hand palm up, and the fairy settled her feet on her skin. A layer of shattered ice traveled up the Winter Queen’s arm, but she did not feel the cold.
“Have you missed me, little Frostling?” the Winter Queen whispered, her white breath twirling about the small figure.
“I have been asleep far longer than I should have been, Winter.” The Frostling’s voice was a song, her wings batting rapidly to create more flurries. “You have chosen to speak to me in waking. Our dreams no longer satisfy you.”
“No, they do not,” Winter replied.
“The winter flowers bloom. You understand what you have done?” The Frostling’s brow angled up in question.
“I have released your sisters.” Winter dipped her head. “Soon, I will send them to Nfaros to bring the snow.”
“We do as you command, but we follow the voice of the Creator. Do you follow His intentions, Your Majesty?” The Frostling rose slowly from Winter’s palm.
“I follow my heart, and He guides it.” Winter clutched a hand over the golden eagle across her heart. “It is time, Frostling.”
“You are certain?”
“I am certain.” Her chest rose with a deep, icy breath. “Winter must come to Nfaros. I have waited long enough.”
The Frostling nodded, rising higher toward the top of the mountain.
“Then we shall awaken the wind.”
The Winter Queen and the Frostling’s eyes met, holding fast and strong.
“We shall bring the storm, and at your command, we shall release it upon
Nfaros.”
Brecken flattened a palm to the large iron door, pressing ever so slightly. The hinges groaned angrily at the pressure, sliding open to reveal the throne room of the Blood Keep. The hall was empty, golden marble floors glittering beneath the sunlight shining through the glass ceiling. Brecken stepped inside, the echo of his steel heels against marble vibrating through the empty room as he approached the throne—a simple chair carved from the oldest oak tree in the Gracian Wood many years ago by the first Sundragon. A worn velvet cushion was roped to the seat. The simplicity of the chair was supposed to be a sign of humility by the Kings of Nfaros.
Brecken’s brow furrowed at the thought, remembering the mysterious actions of King Vihaan Sundragon in the final years of his life that led to his death. Roderick Kael had conquered this throne and this city, snatching it out from under King Vihaan. But Brecken had quickly begun to question King Roderick and his motives. He knelt before the throne, pressing his fist to his heart, then to his lips. He remembered well the face of Vihaan Sundragon, especially the day he died.
“Still paying your respects to a dead man, Captain?” The voice emerged from the shadows, bringing Brecken quickly to his feet.
“He was my wife’s father.” Brecken frowned, turning to bow slightly at the waist.
Raphaela Kael swayed from her hiding place, the train of her red dress hissing softly across the floor. Brecken resisted a shudder as she came closer, her black eyes chilling him to the bone. Raphaela had grown into a cold, proud woman, and the entire city knew even the king himself would not stand in her way when she wanted something. But the rumors of her joining the Eventide Sisters troubled Brecken. The thought of the coldhearted, dark-haired beauty wielding powers that could rival even the Winter Queen’s shook him to his very core.
“Your actions here today could be called treasonous.” Raphaela tossed her long braid over her shoulder. “Your wife’s father was a tyrant, and she has the blood of a traitor. She walks the streets and whispers of her sisters. They are long dead, yet she fills the people with traitorous thoughts of their survival.”
Raphaela snatched Brecken’s hand, tugging him closer. Brecken forced himself to look her in the eye.
“Why my brother gave her to you, I will never understand. It is wrong, Brecken, that you belong to her and not to me. How powerful we would have been together, but instead you are trapped with a woman who would do everything in her power to unseat my brother and take the throne for herself.”
“Brae has no such thoughts.” Brecken reclaimed his hand, backing away from the woman. “She is loyal to me.”
“And is she loyal to my brother?” Raphaela’s eyes narrowed as her bony hands clenched into fists at her sides.
Brecken clenched his jaw. Raphaela laughed softly as she sashayed across the throne room. Stopping at the doors, she looked over her shoulder at him, stabbing him with those icy eyes.
“You cannot trust your wife, Brecken Jandry. She will turn on all of us at the first chance, even you.”
The door rebounded when she left, shaking the hall. Brecken tilted his head back, staring up into the cloud-filled sky. The sun glistened like crystals off the glass ceiling, rays of color dancing in the hall. Brecken flexed his hand around the hilt of his sword, remembering how that very blade had once held Brae hostage. He would never forget the fear in her eyes when he had held the tip to her neck and demanded she tell him where her sisters had gone. Yet even in fear, she did not speak. Loyalty was something Brae knew well.
‘And is she loyal to my brother?’ Raphaela’s words reverberated in his ears.
Brecken bowed his head.
“Come away from the window.”
Damari Kael looked over her shoulder at her sister. Raphaela twirled a strand of her black hair around her finger as she lounged on the cushions decorating the platform. Damari always wondered why her brother had granted Raphaela permission to turn what had once been the Hall of Treaties into her personal quarters. The room was cold and harsh—where Adlae Sundragon had once sat upon a wooden stool and negotiated with the Mountain People. She sighed, tugging her shroud closer around her bony shoulders.
“Your skin will burn under the light of the sun.” Raphaela sighed irritably. “Come, sister, do not be stubborn.”
“I am not stubborn.” Damari closed her eyes. “I enjoy the warmth.”
“Very well. If you wish to destroy your skin, then you may do so. It makes no difference to me.”
“You are all heart, sister.”
Damari released a heavy breath, fiddling with her golden necklace. The golden eagle of winter had draped her neck since she was a child. Before her death, Damari’s mother had told her that as long as she wore the necklace, she would be protected from winter’s chill. Since then, Damari had not once felt the harsh wind of winter, and the snow melted upon her skin.
“You should wear the Kael signet, Damari.” Raphaela’s breath tickled her neck.
Damari turned with a gasp. Raphaela’s silent steps always troubled her, but her sister never spoke of her growing magic or her ability to stir fear in the hearts of the bravest soldiers. Damari knew her sister had suffered at the hands of their parents. Their treatment had turned her into the cold, distant person she was today. But Damari didn’t understand how her sister could be so void of love.
“Aren’t you proud of your brother?” Raphaela fingered her own necklace, the silver panther resting in the hollow of her throat.
“Of course.” Damari’s smile was tight as her sister turned her around, slowly releasing Damari’s blonde hair from its braid. “I will always be proud of Roderick; you know that Raphaela.”
“Then you should put aside that cursed bird,” Raphaela hissed. “The Winter Queen should not mean so much to you.”
“The Winter Queen gave this to our mother. I wish only to wear the necklace as she wished me to—for protection.”
“Hmm.” Raphaela ran her hands over Damari’s tresses, leaning in close. “I saw Brecken today.”
“And Brae?” Damari’s breath caught on the name of the last living Sundragon.
“She would not dare show her face in the Blood Keep.” Raphaela’s nails dug deep into Damari’s shoulders. “She belongs in the barracks. Besides, we will not have to worry about her for long now.”
Damari’s heart stopped.
“What do you mean?” She turned on her sister quickly, grabbing hold of Raphaela’s arms. “Raphaela, what are you planning? What have you and Roderick been discussing in the darkness?”
“So, you are smarter than our brother thinks.” Raphaela skimmed a finger down Damari’s cheek, sending shivers rushing up and down her spine. “Have you been spying on us, little sister?”
“No.” Damari forced the words past the lump in her throat. “Of course not, darling sister. I would never. You know I love you.”
Raphaela searched her eyes. What she saw there must have satisfied her as she turned away, returning to her pillows. Damari returned to the window, her eyes searching the city until they fell upon the barracks where Brae Jandry rested unseen by the world. Her stomach twisted when she felt her sister’s eyes boring into her back, daring her to say the name of the Sundragon once again. Damari picked up the train of her ivory dress, turning slowly to make her way to the door.
The lace around the hem of her skirt rustled, brushing against the floor. Damari kicked at it with her toes, trying to quicken her pace as her legs battled the slim skirt around her knees. Her hand rested upon the cold latch, pushing the lock sharply. The thud echoed in the hall, alerting the guards to attention where they stood watch over her sister.
“Where are you going, Damari?” Raphaela twisted onto her back to stare up at the intricately painted ceiling.
“For my walk.” Damari quirked a brow at her sister. “You know I always walk before sleep.”
“The last bell has ru
ng.”
“I know. I am the king’s sister. I will go where I want when I want.”
“Ahh, such fire in so little a body.” Raphaela laughed. “You are his sister, and still, you do not understand your king.”
Damari left without another word, lifting her shroud over her head to cover her hair. An eerie silence filled the castle this evening; Damari’s shoes clicking against the stone was the only sound to be heard. Glancing over her shoulder, Damari slipped down the back steps, quickening her pace when she stepped out into the cool night air. The streets were empty, everyone safely behind closed doors.
Her brother warned them horrible things lurked in the night after the last bell rang. But Damari knew the truth. The stories were Roderick’s way of keeping them under his control, of being sure that no one gathered in the darkness to plot against him. Anyone caught outside after dark would be arrested.
Except for his sister. Damari smirked, stopping before the barrack gates.
The guard at the door saw her and then turned his back as he always did. Their understanding was simple. He never saw her. He never heard her. But most importantly, he never spoke to her. Damari knew as long as he did not know what she did behind these gates, he would be safe. She raised her skirt, tugging the key from where she had tied it to her calf. The gate squealed in protest as she opened it just enough to get through, locking it behind her.
Brae wasn’t expecting her tonight, but Damari could not wait until their scheduled meeting to tell her what her sister had said. Damari took deep breaths, her fear of having to face Brecken nearly making her turn away as she made her way up the steps. Raphaela had wanted Brecken from the moment she saw him. She knew that if her brother had not named Raphaela a princess and his rightful heir should he never have a child, then Raphaela would have been granted her wish.
But royals did not marry soldiers, not unless they were willing to give up their title and inheritance. Damari still wondered her sister thought Roderick could so easily change the laws. Nfaros had been through enough because of her brother’s rebellion against the Sundragon. The city did not need to suffer more at the whims of her sister.
Winter Queen Page 2