Winter Queen

by Erica Marie Hogan

  Where is he? Winter asked her. Why does he not sit here, awaiting our arrival?

  Adlae shook her head, frowning. But she kept silent. When she had realized Brecken noticed her whispers, she decided discretion was best while in his presence, no matter how Winter’s voice pestered her.

  Adlae frowned suddenly, looking over her shoulder at Brecken. “I sense something. Something strange.”

  A curious looked passed between Brecken and his second before they turned back to her, staring at her blankly. Adlae sighed.

  “Is there a person of power in the Blood Keep? Someone who possesses great magic?”

  “Princess Raphaela,” his second said. “She is to join the Eventide Sisters.”

  “Raphaela ...” Adlae shuddered, attempting to ignore the chill which skittered down her spine. She remembered Raphaela as being a proud, cold person who didn’t have an ounce of sympathy or empathy in her body. If she was joining the Eventide Sisters, then Adlae was certain the woman had ulterior motives for seeking the ways of magic.

  Suddenly then, a door opened, scraping against the marble floor, sliding in a wide half-circle until thundering against the opposite wall. Adlae’s breath caught as she watched the usurper enter the throne room, barely sparing a glance at her as he made his way to the throne. He was wearing the king’s colors of black and red, over his shoulders was draped a velvet cloak, which dragged the ground as he strode across the room. Upon his blonde hair sat her father’s crown, rising high in twisted arcs decorated in rubies and diamonds. On each side of his face were jagged scars, evidence of the battles he had fought on his journey of treachery toward Sunkai.

  Her blood grew hot at the sight of him practically dripping in her father’s gold and jewels, valuables her father would have given to the people to help put food on their tables.

  What magic does this simple man weave to have turned the people against your father? Winter asked her.

  “I do not know,” Adlae mumbled.

  After him followed Princess Raphaela, her black hair falling in long ropes against her back to her waist, and her body adorned in a pleated ivory gown that nearly matched her skin. Adlae frowned, recognizing the dress as one which had belonged to her sister Brae. The Kael’s had pillaged the entire palace, taking everything that had once belonged to her family as though owed to them by blood and birthright.

  Adlae unclenched her fists, easing the fury from her mind so they would not see her emotions. At this moment, she could not be Adlae Sundragon, she had to be the Winter Queen and only her. Revealing herself was not an option. She could not give into her feelings now. Not with the plans she had for these pretenders.

  “Your Majesty.” Roderick Kael’s silky voice echoed in the hollow hall as the sun shifted in the sky, clouds passing over the crystal ceiling to shadow the room. “You honor the Blood Keep with your presence.”

  “Especially after so many years.” Raphaela sniffed, rolling her eyes. “So long with only a hint of winter, but never the fulfillment of one.”

  “Your Grace.” Adlae’s brow arched as she slowly lowered herself in a curtsy. “I am grateful for your hospitality.”

  “Perhaps you can explain why you have been so elusive, Winter Queen,” Raphaela spoke again, resting a light hand on her brother’s shoulder. “Really, two small snows in five years? The snowflakes melted before they ever touched the ground.”

  “Much has changed since the Sundragon was overthrown,” Adlae answered boldly, rising from her crouched position near the floor.

  “Are you saying my brother is not a blessed king?” Raphaela snapped.

  “I say nothing, for I have no right to an opinion. I follow the orders of the Creator, that is all.” Adlae spread her hands. “Come now, my lady. Let us be friends? I have come to bring winter to Sunkai.”

  Raphaela smirked, turning away as her brother rose from the throne. Roderick tilted his head, observing her carefully as he stepped down from the platform. He stopped a few feet away from her, pushing his cloak behind his shoulders before clasping his hands behind his back. Adlae stared into those beady eyes, and for the first time in five years, she felt cold. His lips twisted in some semblance of a smile, and his words sent tremors through her body.

  “We welcome you to our palaces, Your Majesty, and thank you for bringing winter with you. May you always be blessed by your rightful King and by the Creator of All.” He stepped close, bending as though to kiss her cheek but instead whispering, “You are not exempt from my laws, Winter Queen. If ever you speak the name of Sundragon in my presence again, then I will find a new Winter Queen to take your place. Am I clear?”

  Adlae twisted her neck to look into his eyes, their noses nearly touching.

  “Perfectly, Your Highness.”

  The Nfaros Sea

  The wind clawed at her veil, pressing the cloth against her face to tickle her eyelashes. Navaria rested her hands on the ship rail, leaning over to look down at the whitecaps crashing against the walls of the vessel. A smile teased her lips as she swayed with the rocking of the ship. Never had she been carried across the sea; never had she thought she would have a reason to leave home, but winter was coming, and her people were endangered. Prophecy spoke of only one who could save them, one who lived across the sea far from the Mountain People.

  Navaria turned to look up at her companion, tilting her head as she watched him. He stood tall at her side, taller than an average man. Among their people, he was handsome, the scars on his face a symbol of his age and strength, and his silver hair, one side half shaven from his scalp, a sign of his status of nobility. Tilting her head, Navaria wondered how they would be welcomed in Nfaros. She had no intention of alerting the false king to their presence, which would only cause trouble, but the one she sought was settled in the Blood Keep even now. There would be no avoiding entering that place with its ugly marble and glaring glass.

  Her skin burned at the mere thought, and she turned away, buffing her arms as a chill breeze washed over her once more. Navaria smoothed her hands down her simple brown robes, tightening the rope around her waist that kept them formed to her body. Her companion glanced down at her, his hand fisted around the hilt of his sword at his belt. He seemed not to notice the cold, despite being bare to the waist.

  “It is Winter’s wind,” he commented.

  “I know,” Navaria replied.

  “You did not need to do this, my lady. Another could have been sent.”

  “No other among our people still has the Gift.” Navaria closed her eyes. “Only one with the Gift could do this. So the task has fallen to me.”

  “We need only bring the one back with us. You did not need to cross this sea. You did not need to enter these strange lands that could ...” He did not finish, but his eyes spoke the words.

  These strange lands that could kill me. Navaria shuddered.

  “But I did, Krow,” she answered, pressing her hands to the veil that covered who she truly was. “We must find the one who does not feel the cold and bring her back to the Mountains where she can be born again, cleansed in the waters of our people.”

  “Must you always see such things through yourself, Navaria?” Krow growled.

  Navaria just smiled, patting his arm lightly before she rested her hands once again on the ship rail. Bending over she stared down into the water, seeking her Gift. But her Gift did not come as she had hoped. There was no image on the waves, no face of the one she sought. Closing her eyes, she bowed her neck forward.

  “Tell me her name again. The name of the one we seek,” she whispered. “Tell me, my Chalqüin. Remind me of our purpose.”

  Navaria felt Krow’s warmth behind her, his body nearly encircling her to keep Winter’s coming chill from her body. His lips came close to her ear until his breath rippled her veil.

  “The one we seek is the one who does not feel Winter’s chill.” His voice rumbled
against her ear. “The one we seek is Damari Kael, Princess of Nfaros and Sword Maiden of Sunkai.”

  Mirae sat crouched on a chopping block, swiping her knife back and forth idly across a stone as she kept a close watch on the people in the village. They’d stayed here for two days now, herding the king’s guards together in the village stables where her men could watch them and be sure none escaped to alert the usurper’s armies. She wanted word to spread of her survival, but she wanted the news to leak out slowly, without risk to her of being captured sooner than planned. For captured she would be, but she had a time and place for that.

  Mirae fully intended to become a captive of the pretender; she knew of no other way she could have access to the Blood Keep. She knew Roderick Kael wouldn’t kill her right away; he would want to make her killing a show, to make the people lose all hope. To show he had done what he’d set out to do five years ago. Kill all the remaining Sundragons in Nfaros. But he would not expect her escape plan; he would not expect her to already have men lying in wait in the city to storm the Keep once she’d sounded the bells.

  A smirk twisted her lips, and she looked down, her short hair falling to brush against her cheeks as she watched the swift flash of her blade on the stone. Her wrist moved with ease, recognizing the feel of the weapon in her hand, a familiarity she never thought she’d know. Yet here she sat, in men’s clothes and short hair. This was how the Woodland people lived; this was how the rebels of the land had lived since her father was killed. The women took up arms and cut their hair as a sign of mourning for the king they had loved.

  Mirae knew falling into their hands the night her sister abandoned her had saved her life. She still didn’t know why Adlae had given up so quickly—why she thought the only way to save Mirae was to leave her in a strange wood on a night when magic was thick in the air, and the mysteries of the Gracian Wood stirred uneasily from their rest.

  That was when the Woodland people found her. Just when the magic of the wood was about to consume her, to take the very life from her, they snatched her from her horse and took her to the circle—a place they’d made safe from the hunger of the woods. In that circle, Mirae had cut her hair in mourning for her father and sisters—there Jaeger had placed her first sword in her hand and told her to fight. She’d known nothing of the sword when she was fifteen, and Jaeger had inflicted many scars which now made her proud. They reminded her of the beginning, of the strength she’d gained by following him, and the respect she’d earned which made him kneel before her and declare her his queen.

  For a queen she was, perhaps not of Nfaros yet, but of these poor people. They had named her Queen of the Woodlands, a title she would not relinquish. A title she knew would lead her to the throne of Nfaros, where she would kill the pretender.

  Mirae put the stone away, sliding the sharpened dagger into the sheath in her boot. Striding across the village street, she ignored the stares and whispers, taking a long breath when a few of them bowed. She did not want that honor—the bowing. It made her uncomfortable, and she wanted them to love her, not fear her. Bowing was the symbol of a tyrant in Mirae’s eyes, and she would not have them bow during her reign. There had to be equality. There had to be fairness, and Mirae would see those values established in all Nfaros if she was able.

  Her mind strayed to the Mountain People across the sea and the stories the Woodlanders told her of their tyrannical rulers. Perhaps, for such a wild people, they needed a firm hand but if Mirae could reach her gentleness across the sea, she would.

  But gentleness would have to wait. This was a time of war, and there was no place for a gentle hand in war. Mirae sighed, tilting her head back to look at the sky. The clouds were rolling toward Sunkai at a rapid rate, and she knew their progress had to be the Winter Queen’s doing. There were rumors she had come to the city and even now slept on a soft bed in the Blood Keep. Mirae didn’t know what the Winter Queen intended by inserting herself under the same roof as the pretender. No Winter Queen had ever come to stay with her father before, but whether the Keeper of Winter was on Roderick’s side or not was no concern of Mirae’s. At least, not her concern until she reached the city.

  Mirae stopped at the town line, looking out over the fields that gave way to mile upon mile of woods. These villages thrived on what the woods had to offer—from its rich, strong timber to its nourishing plants. This was a life Mirae had never known existed when she was a young Princess of Nfaros.

  Sometimes she missed that life, but now she couldn’t even imagine having grown up that way. She knew she wouldn’t be the person she was today if she had, and that thought made her almost glad she’d been driven away from her home. This usurper had only made her strong when he had wanted to make her weak, and Mirae had discovered there was an entirely different person living inside of her from the timid, spoiled girl who rarely stepped foot outside the Blood Keep’s gates.

  Closing her eyes, she could see her sisters, Adlae and Brae, smiling at her as they played on the Blood Keep’s battlements. They’d looked alike in almost every way from their blood red hair to their emerald eyes, and they had moved as one when they walked through the city. The people always said there was something magical about them when they were together that struck fear in the hearts of everyone who saw them. But no longer. That magic had been stolen on the fateful night when Brae sacrificed her future for Mirae and Adlae. Mirae was sure the magic of the woods must’ve consumed Adlae, leaving her the only freeborn Sundragon left in Nfaros.

  Mirae absently ran her fingers over the dragon embroidered over her chest. Her shirt used to be part of her household garb, the king’s colors of black and red. She and her sisters had donned them when Roderick Kael’s armies first came crawling over the city walls. She hadn’t wanted to give up the symbol, carrying the gown with her through all of her adventures with the Woodland people. But finally, she’d altered it so she might wear breeches to walk and run freely during the battle, all the while keeping her family’s emblem on her heart.

  “You are thoughtful,” Jaeger’s voice murmured in her ear.

  “It is but one village,” Mirae replied. “I am anxious, Jaeger. We need to move on.”

  “You know what we discussed, Mirae.” Jaeger stepped in front of her, blocking her view of the forest. “Now we return to the Woodlands. Now we disappear once more and let the pretender stew.”

  “Perhaps that’s wrong. Perhaps we should take another village.” Mirae clutched her hands behind her. “We need to show him my full strength.”

  “And we will, in good time.” Jaeger took her face in his large palms, staring down at her with wide, compelling eyes. “You are a queen, Mirae Sundragon. You will be Queen of Nfaros—I will see to that.”

  “But if we wait too long ...”

  “You have waited a long time already, Mirae. This is a small victory, but a victory nevertheless and the first step.” Jaeger kissed her forehead lightly. “We will take this country. We will take back your city. But now we must disappear like a ghost. We must make the usurper’s mind soft. We must drive him deeper into his insanity until he is weak—until he is vulnerable.”

  “I know.” Mirae nodded.

  “We will take back your home.” Jaeger drew her close, and she buried herself against him, remembering how he had carried her out of the stifling fog in the Gracian Wood. Remembering how he had sheltered her in the circle with his family, treating her as one of his own from the start.

  “We will make Nfaros your home too,” Mirae whispered. “For I will not live without you at my side.”

  “I will never leave you, little one.”

  “I know.”

  Mirae sighed, feeling again like that little girl who had sought a father and found one in Jaeger. She knew they would never be parted. Nothing, not even death, could break the bond of their family.

  Not even Roderick Kael. This is what makes us strong. No one will separate us ... no one.


  The City of Sunkai

  Damari turned slowly, each hand occupied with a sword as she faced her invisible opponent. She’d trained in the ways of the Sword Maidens since her brother had declared her Princess of Nfaros. The custom was for every princess to know their ways—to be able to defend themselves in battle if needed. She still held the image of the three Sundragon sisters, adorned in their household garb and wielding their swords specially made with their names carved intricately into the steel in her mind. Those swords still hung over the hearth in Adlae’s old room where Raphaela would sit and stare, observing them, as though she could draw the essence of the three sisters from the steel to discover which of them—besides Brae—still lived.

  A shudder rushed through her, and she twisted again, the steel slicing the thick air of the courtyard as she bent her knees, moving in a constant circle—the swords spinning in her hands. Damari stopped, tossing the blades to the ground. They clattered, echoing in the empty yard as she turned away. Tangling her hands in her hair, she paced the courtyard, her mind racing with thoughts she couldn’t possibly understand. The eagle medallion felt hot against her chest, emanating warmth to keep out the cold the Winter Queen had brought with her when she became a guest in the palace.

  Damari rubbed away the sweat on the back of her neck, lifting the medallion from beneath the collar of her dress. Her skin was relieved from the heat as Damari rubbed the imprint from her chest. The eagle was meant to protect her from the cold, not overwhelm her. More than anything she wanted to remove the necklace, but her mother’s warning kept her heart trapped in fear.

  ‘To remove the eagle is to embrace death. You must never take it from around your neck, Damari. Never.’ Lila Kael’s warning rang in her ears even now.

  Damari crouched, wrapped her arms around her knees and leaned back into her heels. She stared across the yard at the empty circle of stone where the statue of Vihaan Sundragon once stood before being destroyed by her brother. They’d intended to erect a statue of Roderick in there, but the stone masons never seemed to be able to craft a monument the way her brother wanted. If he was displeased, then Raphaela was displeased. They continued to start over until Roderick finally decided to send for a craftsman across the sea from the Mountain People, whose specialty was stonework. Damari had always known such a thing could take a long time, but after a year passed since they’d requested the craftsman, she wondered if the Mountain People were ever going to fulfill her brother’s wish.