Winter Queen

by Erica Marie Hogan

  She shook her head. A statue was the least of their worries right now, which was why Damari was out here in the first place, practicing her skill with a sword. The news had reached them quickly; the rumors buzzing through the city that Mirae Sundragon was alive and had claimed a village just a few miles north of Sunkai. Raphaela was infuriated she had not sensed the disruption, along with the realization her Eventide Sisters had to have known and did not tell her. Damari was growing weary of reminding Raphaela that she was not officially one of the Eventide Sisters yet and as creatures of magic, they had no obligation to tell Raphaela of their business, whether she was a princess or not.

  If Mirae Sundragon were, as rumor claimed, heading for Sunkai to kill Roderick and reclaim the throne by invoking blood and birthright, then they would have to be at their best. Damari knew that for her sister and brother to believe she was preparing for a battle to come was imperative when truly she was doing everything in her power to help Brae Sundragon escape Sunkai. If Damari could get her and her daughter Noelle safely out of the city, then she could begin preparations for Mirae’s arrival.

  Only a few choice words whispered in the shadows of the city would be enough to begin the uprising, and Damari could convince Roderick then things were not safe here, moving him to the Tower of Righteousness in the Gracian Wood. Safe there until she was able to convince Mirae Sundragon to exile him instead of executing him. Damari’s love for her brother may have waned over the years, but she would never wish him dead.

  Damari sighed, rising once again to pick up her swords. She wore the colors of her Kael household, green and white with a panther etched over the chest. The skirt was neatly split down the center to allow freer movement. Her brown boots were scuffed but comfortable from years of use. She would often wear this garb when not in the company of her brother and sister, who desired her to act the spoiled princess in her silky gowns and brightly colored jewelry. Damari never wanted to be a princess, but Roderick believed royalty to be their destiny, and Damari had no choice but to support her brother. She knew from the beginning that her siblings would turn on her instantly if she hinted at her doubts in their destiny—if she even suggested that her heart dwelled with the Sundragons and only them.

  Her swords hissed as she returned them to their scabbards, fingered the jewels inlaid on the hilts. Damari turned away, knowing the boy would come to collect them soon. She stopped short with a gasp, her hand fluttering to her chest.

  The Winter Queen stood before her, a gentle smile on her full, pale lips. Her eyelids fluttered, ice crystals forming on her lashes and falling from them every time she blinked. She wore the same gown she had when she arrived. Shiny satin that clung to her slim form, emphasizing her curves with a golden eagle perfectly weaved across the chest. Raphaela said all her gowns were the same; she never wore anything else. Damari tilted her head, observing, and she couldn’t help the smile that spread on her own lips.

  “Damari Kael,” the Winter Queen murmured, taking a step forward. Still, she walked barefoot, despite being offered slippers when she first arrived.

  “Your Majesty.” Damari curtsied low. “Is there something you needed?”

  “I’ve not been to the Blood Keep in many years,” she replied, lifting her gaze to the sky. “I’d forgotten how big the sky looked from this courtyard.”

  “Did you visit the Blood Keep often before ...?” Damari bit her lip, knowing to discuss the Winter Queen’s previous life was rude but unable to help herself.

  “Yes, very often.” The Winter Queen lowered her voice, her eyes downcast. “I have a question for you, Damari Kael.”

  “I am at your service, Your Majesty.”

  “I have had no news of Brae Sundragon since my arrival.” Her blue eyes were piercing, and at that moment, Damari was certain the Winter Queen knew all her secrets. “I wondered if perhaps you might know where I could find her.”

  “She is now called Brae Jandry, Winter Queen,” Damari murmured.

  The Winter Queen closed her eyes. “Yes, of course.”

  “She was married to Brecken Jandry five years ago,” Damari explained. “My brother spared her on that condition alone.”

  “Yes, I know. He did not even marry her to a noble,” the Winter Queen mumbled. “A noble would have been better. She would not have been a princess, but she would have been honored. Instead, she was brought down to the lowest ...”

  “Your Highness.” Damari took a step closer to her. “Did you know Brae Sundragon?”

  “You could say that.” The Winter Queen turned back, straightening her shoulders. “Where might I find Brae?”

  “I can show you tomorrow,” Damari offered eagerly. “She is not far, but the bells will be rung soon, and no one is allowed on the streets after the last bell.”

  “Good.” The Winter Queen nodded her approval. “You will show me. Good.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty.” Damari dipped into another curtsy.

  When she rose once more, the Winter Queen was gone.

  Roderick leaned over the large oak table, staring at the maps cluttering its surface. He could feel the sting of the Winter Queen’s eyes on his back, watching and waiting for him to speak. A lock of his hair fell over his forehead, reminding him he needed to have one of his servants cut it again. He grumbled, raking his fingers through his locks to keep them out of his face before he turned.

  Leaning back against the table, he crossed his arms, studying this woman who called herself a queen. A snort nearly escaped at the thought. Who was she to call herself a queen when she had no coin? Who was she to claim the right of royalty when her home was an icy bed on the side of a mountain? There were no jewels around her neck, no crown upon her white head, yet she was called a Queen of a Season. But in her body, she possessed more power than he ever would. The power to change the season, to bring freezing rains and cover the land in a blanket of snow.

  Roderick cleared his throat, gesturing for her to step forward. She did so without a sound, and he noticed her bare toes peeking out from beneath the hem of her gown. Who was she to refuse the gift of slippers his sister Raphaela had offered? Roderick knew his sister didn’t want the Winter Queen here, but she had shown a gesture of good will to offer the woman more comfort for her feet. His fists tightened at his sides. Did she think herself above them? Were their offerings not good enough for the Keeper of Winter?

  His eyes strayed over her trim body, traveling up the length of her long white braid to her eyes. Her lashes glittered with melting crystals; those blue eyes glaring at him like cracked ice. Roderick shivered at the sight alone, wondering if her breath really was cold enough to create ice. Wondering if, with one touch, she could freeze his heart as the legends said. But he knew the Winter Queen could not use her powers for evil. Only in defense of Nfaros or her own life could she inflict this power upon another soul of their lands—never before had one dared to do even that. If this Winter Queen were holding off bringing the first snow to Sunkai because she intended to usurp his throne as Raphaela suggested to him, then the Creator would surely strip her of this power and strike her down.

  “My sister worries about your reluctance to bless us with winter, my lady.” Roderick broke the silence between them.

  Her eyes did not waver, her face stone-like as she watched him.

  “She fears your heart lies outside my Blood Keep. That you are not loyal to my rule.” Roderick’s brow arched. “Is there truth to this?”

  “Who is to say what is true, Your Grace?” The Winter Queen shrugged one shoulder, tilting her head to the side. “The Creator will demand the storm from me and only then will I bring the first snow to Sunkai. I know only the time is soon, but I cannot tell you when.”

  “I know you spoke with my young sister, Damari, today.” Roderick turned his back, pacing around the table to the windows. “You inquired after the Sundragon girl.”

  “The Princess Brae�
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  “She is no princess!” Roderick roared, spinning around.

  His face reddened into a thousand flames, eyes narrowing on her in a heated glare. His hands fisted before slamming down onto the table. His entire body trembled with his fury at the sound of that woman’s name; the memory of how she had tricked his guards and gotten her sisters out of the gates of the Blood Keep rushing back to him like a sudden blow. How could one seventeen-year-old girl be so clever? How could a nitwit of a princess outsmart him so?

  “You will never call her such in my presence,” Roderick hissed.

  “Forgive me, King Roderick.” The Winter Queen bowed in deference. “I will strive never to offend you again.”

  Roderick did snort this time and turned his back. He clenched his hands behind him. From here, he had a perfect view of the Tower of Truce, from the top of which he had thrown King Vihaan’s headless body the night he took Sunkai. The three princesses, Adlae, Brae, and Mirae had all gathered here in the Blood Keep, trying to defend their father’s throne even as they heard the screams of the people when they realized their king was dead. Roderick grinned remembering the devastation on their faces; remembering the blood of the Sundragon where it had spilled on the floor and sprayed on his armor.

  “I do as the Creator commands me, King Roderick.” Her sweet voice brought his head around again, and he watched her as she spoke. “But I will say that Winter will come, but only from a willing heart. You have dishonored Brae Jandry. You dishonored her when you forced her to marry Brecken Jandry.”

  “How?” Roderick growled, spreading his arms wide as he faced her. “I had to secure this throne, and I didn’t want to kill the girl. So, I married her to a man far beneath her, stripping her of all titles and birthrights.”

  “You married her to a soldier.” The Winter Queen glared. “If she had married a noble, she would still have been stripped of title and birthright. Only marriage to a prince would have assured her title and birthright for her life. But marriage to a nobleman would not have disgraced her so. She could have kept her honor.”

  The Winter Queen stepped toward him, and Roderick moved back, his eyes straying to the ground where ice was beginning to form on the stone floors.

  “With a cruel hand, you began your rule, and the Creator kept silent. He did not bless you with a frost for years, he saw fit to keep silent, to keep apart from me ... until now.” The Winter Queen breathed deeply, her chest swelling. “Only He knows the reason for this. But what the first snow brings will not be a blessing. For it comes five years too late.”

  “You dare speak to me this way?” Roderick hissed. “I am your king!”

  “I have no king but the Creator. I am a creature of magic, embodied with power only the Creator can give, and you do not threaten me.” The Winter Queen raised her chin. “I will honor you while I am in the Blood Keep, but I am not a subject you may rule over. We are equals, Roderick Kael, and threats from you will never frighten me.”

  He opened his mouth, but she had already turned away, striding from the room on silent feet with a flurry of snow following her. Roderick shook his head, resisting the urge to run after her. Ordering her arrest would be, as Raphaela sometimes called them, like a child’s tantrum on his part, and he would not be made a fool. He only needed the Winter Queen to bring the first snow to the city, and then he would not need her anymore. Then he could destroy her, kill her and appoint the girl he had selected from his most loyal subjects to take her place. A grin split his mouth as he felt a deep chuckle begin in the base of his throat.

  I need only for her to bring the first snow ... and then she will be gone, and I will have a Winter Queen who will do MY bidding and no one else’s. Not even the Creator’s!

  Roderick’s laughter filled the empty hall.

  Adlae frowned down at the board, waving her hand over the red and white stones. Glancing up she saw Winter grin, the little Frostling sitting quietly on her shoulder. Mumbling under her breath, she lifted her red stone, replacing one of the white ones on the other side. Winter giggled, whispering something to the Frostling before she wiped the board, the stones circling with the motion of her fingers until the board was empty, revealing the map of Nfaros beneath it. Adlae sighed, sitting back with her hands on her knees.

  “The game wasn’t fair,” she said, arching her brow.

  War never is. With a snap of her fingers, Winter made the board vanish. If you are not careful, the clever pretender will defeat you and keep your throne.

  If we are to gain the support of the people of Sunkai, then we must have Brae and Brecken Jandry standing beside us. Winter rose from her place, her golden hair hanging low to her knees.

  Adlae followed, linking arms with the woman as they walked through the meadow. This was often where they met in her dreams—the meadow of Winter’s birth. Adlae hadn’t questioned her about her mysterious life before she became the Keeper of Winter, but she knew more than they had discussed, more she would never speak with her about. There were things better left unsaid, pasts better left behind them. Adlae wouldn’t take the chance of losing Winter’s voice by offending her. It was a silent agreement between them, as it was with Adlae and the people of Nfaros. The past was just that, the past.

  “I need only Brae,” Adlae replied, her grip tightening on Winter’s arm. “Brecken is inconsequential.”

  There you are wrong. The young captain is important, and if you win his heart, then you win the people. He has a part to play in your future.

  “What do you know about my future?” Adlae turned on her, considering the woman’s dark blue eyes. “What have you seen, Winter?”

  I cannot tell you. Winter’s full pink lips formed a gentle smile as she stroked her finger along Adlae’s cheek. You know this, my friend. I am a soul, a piece of you the Creator blesses with foresight so I may advise and keep you safe.

  “You know the end of this,” Adlae whispered, searching her friend’s gaze. “You know what will become of me when this is all over.”

  You know I do. Winter turned her back, walking a few paces away.

  “Then tell me,” Adlae pleaded. “Tell me my fate! Tell me it will not come to what I fear most! Tell me my country will not be torn apart once more by war so I may gain what I desire!”

  Winter looked over her shoulder, the same smile still in place. Adlae watched her, her pleated red gown rippling in the wind against her legs. The bodice clung to Winter’s figure, smoothly formed to her curves down over her hips to the light skirt. Adlae wondered about her, wondering what had happened the night she’d passed over everything she was to Adlae and embraced death.

  It was the one thing Adlae was not privy to about this woman; the one secret she was able to keep. Who or what had harmed her that night? Who had dared to even try to kill her; to take away the Winter Queen’s power? Adlae wanted to know now, but she knew Winter would tell her only when she was ready. Only the memory of a shadow, of a creature Adlae thought lived only in legend, remained with her from that night. But Winter never confirmed if the creature was what had harmed her.

  Adlae stepped forward, closing the distance between them to take her hands. They were warm in Adlae’s frozen palms, a sensation Adlae could only feel in dreams. The warmth of people never spread to her. Never filled her—dusted over her skin. Warmth would never be a part of her again. But it was a sensation she remembered—one which awakened itself in sleeping and that she clung to as long as rest consumed her.

  If the Creator wishes you to know your fate, He will tell you, Winter whispered, leaning forward to press a light kiss to Adlae’s cheek.

  “I am alone in this,” Adlae said. “I have only the Frostlings to bring the storm and you to whisper in my ear. I have no support here, for none know who I truly am.”

  Then you must make them love you, Winter replied.

  “How?”

  You know how, sweet one. Winte
r laughed softly. You need only look for the answer, and you will find it. Trust your heart ... you will find a way.

  Adlae gasped, sitting up in bed. She closed her eyes again, running her fingers through her long hair to her neck. Taking her tresses in her hands she roped her hair quickly behind her, tying it with thick strands at the end. Lifting herself from the bed, she walked to the window, a breeze teasing the hem of her nightdress when she stopped in front of the open shutters. The Blood Keep was quiet tonight, the guards standing frozen at their stations, watching for any unusual movement in the darkness.

  “Why did you let me wake?” Adlae whispered into the empty room.

  It was time. You will have no more dreams of me tonight, Winter’s answer came as a whisper on the breeze.

  “You are the only one who can help me now, Winter. There are things we must discuss.”

  I will not tell you what to do, Adlae Sundragon. You are your father’s daughter, and you have been chosen by the Creator. You needn’t seek answers from me when they are already in your heart.

  “But I cannot trust my heart. When I look at these courtyards, when I walk these halls ... all I seek is revenge. I must have my home back, and you alone keep me from lashing out in anger.” Adlae ignored the glassy tear that fell from her lashes.