Winter Queen

by Erica Marie Hogan

  Brecken approached the table, his brothers watching warily the closer he came to the king.

  “Mirae Sundragon was spotted by one of my ... friends ... in the Woodlands outside Quintaria. They say plans are being made by this little army of hers to cross the Kliat Plains to the Pilvaa Forest.”

  “Pilvaa?” Brecken frowned. “That is a dangerous place for any to make camp.”

  “Indeed. But these Woodlanders seem to know how to escape the dark powers of the forests.” Roderick smirked, rolling up one of his maps so quickly it nearly tore in his hand. “I do not want them to ever reach that forest, Captain.”

  “My brother the king and I have discussed these events at some length.” Raphaela stepped in then, coming to her brother’s side. “We wish for you, Brecken Jandry, to take a piece of our army and crush this claimant to my brother’s throne once and for all.”

  “Crush?” Lathan repeated, his shoulder brushing against Brecken’s as he came to his side.

  “It is the only way,” Roderick answered. “Mirae Sundragon must be dealt with. Since the Gracian Wood didn’t take her those years ago when she fled like a coward, then we must finish her now. Her army isn’t an army at all, mostly women and children. She has no defense.”

  “Do you ask my brother to kill women and children, Your Grace?” Brecken could feel his brother’s tension at his side, and he reached over, bracing a firm hand on Lathan’s shoulder.

  “My brother means no disrespect. He wishes only for clear orders,” Brecken spoke before Roderick’s ire could ignite.

  “Any prisoners you wish to take, you may, Captain,” Roderick explained. “But those who raise a sword to you do so as an act of treason—the punishment for which is death. You know that. So, I expect you to cut down any in your path who hold a blade.”

  “Understood, Your Grace.” Brecken bowed slightly.

  Maxx’s broad shoulders hunched with strain where he stood in the corner. He wasn’t as tall as his brothers, but he made up for lack of height in build. Thick arms clasped behind his back and a well-muscled chest pulled against his coat breast. Some would not believe he was their brother if not for his tanned skin and dark hair, marking him a Jandry.

  “What troubles you, Maxx?” Brecken asked, and all eyes turned to his youngest brother.

  “Only this.” Maxx cleared his throat, stepping forward out of the shadows. “If Mirae Sundragon should never raise a sword against us, shall we bring her back to you?”

  Raphaela laughed. “That will not happen, Maxx Jandry.”

  “I am sending some of my best soldiers with you,” Roderick went on. “Lucas Franlaw and Haedron Norley will accompany you.”

  Brecken shuddered. Everyone knew those two soldiers were really Roderick’s best assassins, but no one ever called them that. No one ever acknowledged the fact Roderick had assassins.

  “They are going with you to take care of Mirae Sundragon,” Raphaela smirked. “The last thing we need is for you to bring that girl into our city and rouse betrayal in the hearts of my brother’s subjects.”

  “Then we are to kill the girl? Even if she doesn’t carry a sword?” Maxx’s eyes darkened, his fists clenching tightly at his sides.

  “Oh, she will be carrying a sword. They say her father’s sword is at her side at all times.” Roderick snorted. “I always wondered what happened to that beautiful weapon. Soon, the sword will be mine, as is right.”

  “But, brother,” Damari cooed, nearly stumbling on her own feet as she hurried forward. Brecken jumped at the sound of her voice, having almost forgotten she was there. “Would it not be better to bring Mirae Sundragon back to the city? As an example of what happens if one stands up in treason against you? Killing her on a battlefield will do little good for your rule, will it not?”

  “Sweet, naïve Damari.” Roderick tapped her nose with his finger. “You forget that too many hearts in this city still beat for the Sundragon.”

  “But surely an equal amount beat for you, if not more.” Damari took Roderick’s hand tightly in her own. “Wouldn’t it be better—?”

  “Enough, Damari!” Raphaela slapped her, the crack of her hand against Damari’s skin ringing in the room.

  Lathan lunged forward before Brecken could stop him, putting himself between Damari and Raphaela while Maxx remained still after a slight wave of Brecken’s hand, despite his fingers curling angrily around his sword hilt. Damari seemed to shrink behind Lathan, her hunched shoulders trembling as she resisted tears.

  “Now, that wasn’t necessary, Raphaela,” Roderick whined. “Don’t cry, baby sister. Raphaela didn’t mean to do that.”

  “I certainly did,” Raphaela mumbled under her breath as she turned her back, strolling to the window. “The girl was talking nonsense, Roderick. She must learn when to keep silent. Besides, she hurt me more than I hurt her. The child’s skin is like fire.”

  Brecken buffed the back of his neck before holding up his hands. He had to stop this arguing before it escalated to more violence. Damari Kael was too innocent to suffer any more at her sister’s hands.

  “We will carry out the king’s orders, whatever they may be. There is no need for discord between you, Your Royal Highnesses.”

  “Good, good.” Roderick waved a hand. “Raphaela, Damari, go back to your chambers and sleep. The lieutenants will escort you. Brecken, you stay. I wish to speak with you a moment more.”

  His brothers bowed low at the waist before they turned, marching to the door. Damari shuffled after Lathan. She looked as though she was trying to hide in his shadow as her sister glided behind them, completely oblivious to the scowl on Maxx’s face when she stepped in front of him, knowing he would follow. Brecken waited until the door closed behind them before he turned back to his king.

  “What do you command, my king?” Brecken asked.

  “I need some assurance.” Roderick turned away, clasping his hands behind his back as he walked leisurely to the window. “I know you love your wife, Brecken. I know she is happy with you, considering I gave her to you.”

  “What does my wife have to do with this, Your Grace?” Brecken’s teeth grated, and he kept himself still, despite the urge to fidget uncomfortably.

  “I cannot help but hear what they say on the streets about your wife and her right to my title.”

  “She has no right. The law states if she does not marry a royal, she can never become queen.”

  “Yes, yes.” Roderick waved him off, turning back. “We know that. But laws can change, and the world is turning. They wish for a Sundragon to rise again to the throne, and it is all because of that girl in the Woodlands.”

  Roderick turned to him, staring at him with those cold, icy eyes. A shudder rushed down Brecken’s spine as he forced himself to look at the man’s face, keeping as still as possible as Roderick growled.

  “I trust you will do what is necessary, no matter who your wife is. I trust, if the task falls to you, you will take care of Mirae Sundragon. Do you understand, Captain?”

  Brecken straightened his shoulders, staring blankly over the top of the king’s head.

  “Perfectly, Your Grace.”

  With a cry, Adlae fell to her knees, thrusting her palm against the ground as she summoned the ice, which broke on the ground, the Wraith Spawn shrieking as it drew back. Adlae dared to look up, her insides trembling with terror as she faced the monster—an ugly creature, covered in black scales that glittered like dragon skin. The Wraith Spawn towered over her with long, opaque claws that glimmered like finely sharpened blades and large teeth protruding at odd angles from its mouth. His pointed ears twitched as he listened, his murky yellow eyes gleaming as he strode toward her, a dark cloud following him.

  Adlae took a long breath, rising slowly to her feet before she reached out. She grabbed him by the throat, and the animal squealed, its bald head bending back, trying to get away f
rom her frozen touch as thick ice gathered around his neck, constricting and crushing his bones until finally, he disappeared in a cloud of black smoke and ash. Adlae fell to her knees once more, gasping in deep breaths. Sweat soaked through the front of her bodice. She scrubbed the thick dust and black blood left on her hands in the grass, holding back the sob that wanted to erupt from her throat.

  You must find what was lost, Winter urged her. You have come this far.

  “I will not survive another like that.” Adlae shuddered. “I cannot.”

  It is too late to turn back. You entered the woods, now you must complete your mission.

  “I do not even know what it is I seek.” Adlae frowned.

  You do. You will find it in ... that place. Winter’s tremor filled her.

  Adlae’s frown deepened as she turned and hurried deeper into the woods. She’d promised never to return to this spot; never to look upon the place where Winter had died. They had a silent agreement between them. Yet here she was, walking steadily back to the place where the Wraith Spawn had wounded her; where he’d struck the fatal blow. Adlae felt Winter growing anxious the closer they came to the clearing, her fear working through Adlae as a thick, cold fog began to gather around her ankles.

  “You don’t need to be afraid,” Adlae murmured. “I do not hear anything.”

  Neither did I. It is the silence that kills in these woods, Adlae Sundragon, Winter whispered.

  Adlae opened her mouth to speak again when she came upon the clearing. No words could describe the feelings rushing through her then. Standing here now, she could see Winter as clearly as she had that day. How she had lain back against the same tree, blood soaking through her dress where the Wraith Spawn had stabbed her, her white hair falling in thick waves to her knees, and her eyes pleading for Adlae to make the pain stop. She shivered, stepping forward to kneel in the same place she had all those years ago.

  It hasn’t changed, Winter sighed in her ear. The wind is the same. The damp air still smells of melting ice and the fog mirrors that I made upon my death.

  “They did not mark the place for you,” Adlae murmured, placing her hand on the tree trunk.

  Of course, they didn’t. They did not know my true name. No one did. I was long in this world, Adlae Sundragon. I reigned, the Winter Queen, many years before your own birth. You knew this.

  “Yes, I knew.” Adlae bowed her head. “Why am I here, Winter? What is it I seek?”

  Look in the grass, and you will find it, Winter answered.

  Adlae sighed, rolling her eyes before she carefully wove her fingers through the blades of grass, searching. The wet grass dampened her skin, and for a moment, she was surprised she felt the cold of the grass. But then something caught her eye, something glittering in the starlight breaking through the darkness of the Abyss. Adlae frowned, bending closer to lift the golden object. Her breath caught when she saw it.

  “After all these years ...” Adlae whispered, lifting the necklace from where it had fallen.

  The necklace was one of three—an intricately woven gold dragon with ruby eyes hanging on a long chain. Adlae smoothed her thumb along the shape of the creature, turning the piece in the starlight to make the eyes glitter.

  Three necklaces, all with the same ruby eyes. Three—one for each of you, gifted to you by your mother. You never understood their significance. You never understood what you had lost, Winter murmured in her ear.

  “They are magic, aren’t they?” Adlae’s eyes flooded.

  The people always said something magical happened when the three of you were together. They always said you were your strongest when you were together. But you did not understand that, with these, you were never apart.

  “We always knew what the other was thinking. We could feel it in our hearts.” Adlae tilted her head back, closing her eyes as tears slipped down her temples into her hair.

  Your sisters still wear theirs always about their necks, Winter said. So, you must also.

  “They will link us.” Adlae shook her head. “They do not know I am alive; they will not understand what they are feeling.”

  They will think it is each other, Winter replied. You must awaken this old magic, this last gift from your mother. It is the only way you can protect them in the days to come.

  Adlae nodded, knowing Winter’s words to be true. Slowly, she lifted the necklace over her head, sliding it down until it rested against her heart. Gently, she laid the chain beneath the collar of her dress. When the dragon touched her skin, she gasped, a burning beginning in the center of her stomach and building until she thought she would burst into flames. The air strangled her as she clawed at the necklace, but she couldn’t remove it. A gust of wind slammed into her, and she fell back, writhing on the ground. Then, as quickly as the pain had come … it ceased.

  Brae sat up in her bed, gasping for air as she reached for her necklace. The rubies glittered so brightly their red light reflected off the walls of her little bedchamber. Vaguely, she heard Brecken sit up beside her, asking her what was wrong. He had returned from the Blood Keep, sullen as ever, and would not tell her what the king wanted. But Brae didn’t care. Why hadn’t mattered.

  Now it seemed as though the air itself was strangling her; the blood rushing to her face as she fought to breathe, as she fought for life. Her body convulsed, and she tumbled out of their bed, overcome with fever and sweats as she thrashed on the floor.

  “Brae! In the name of eternity, what’s happening to you!” Brecken’s shout reached her from a great distance, and his hands were cold when he grabbed her up in his arms.

  Brae tried to speak but she couldn’t as hot tears forced themselves from her eyes. Suddenly, air pulled into her lungs, her face cooling as the sweat dried on her skin. She stared up at her husband where she lay in his arms.

  “Brae ... you’re bleeding,” Brecken rasped.

  Looking down, she found her necklace clutched in her palm as a stream of blood poured down her arm where one of the rubies had cut her.

  Creator of Night, what is happening! Mirae screamed, rolling onto her back as her spine attempted to snap in two. Jaeger tried to lift her, tried to help, but his hands trembled too hard. The fear in his voice as he ordered everyone back from her was clear.

  None came close; none tried to touch her. Was this some dark magic of the Wraith Spawn as they continued to thrash against their circle? Was this some attempt of the Abyss to claim her soul? Mirae didn’t know, and she didn’t care. All she knew was the pain was burning her from the inside out, and she couldn’t breathe.

  Her fingernails clawed at her neck until she realized she was reaching for her necklace. Grabbing the pendant, she pressed the dragon between both of her palms and curled her knees up against her chest. Suddenly, she gasped and blessed air filled her lungs, expanding her throat. Mirae coughed, her head lolling to the side as exhaustion took her.

  Brae.

  She gasped again, sitting up. Lara fell backward, the water she had brought for her sloshing over the rim of the cup.

  “Brae!” Joy filled her as quickly as the pain had left her. “My sister. Jaeger, it was Brae!”

  “You are feverish, Mirae,” Jaeger soothed her. “I do not know what dark magic this is, but it has made you delirious.”

  “No, feel my skin.” She pressed his hand to her forehead. “I have no fever, and it’s not dark magic. It’s Brae, Jaeger! I can feel her, as strongly as though she stood beside me.”

  Jaeger shook his head, smiling at her as he would at a sick child. When he tucked her into her cot, she didn’t argue. When he pulled the blanket to her chin and stroked her hair, telling her to rest, she didn’t resist. But she knew what she felt, she knew her sister’s presence, her spirit as well as she knew her own.

  I have her back. Blessed Sun, I have her back!

  Mirae crouched beside the ruins of the tent, lifting t
he dirt and ash between her fingers. Rubbing them together, she raised them to her nose, sniffing. Mirae’s nose scrunched. She didn’t know what she expected to find or smell for that matter, but she was learning what being a tracker meant, and anything she could discover helped. The Wraith Spawn had done their work, leaving trails of ash and charred grass in their wake when they finally disappeared at the sight of the rising sun. Mirae dropped the lump of dirt in her hand, rising to look around at the others as they searched the ground for any signs of a trail.

  Where are you, Astra? Mirae wiped her hands on her pants leg, readjusting her quiver strap across her chest. The morning had brought many questions, but the most prominent was the one Lara asked about their Tree Prophetess. The woman and her guards had simply disappeared, her tent gone up in fire and smoke. There were no signs Astra or the others were inside when their tent was consumed by the Wraith Spawn fire, yet there were no footprints of their flight—no proof they had found safety.

  Jaeger approached, sending a birdcall over his shoulder so the others would gather around. Mirae sighed heavily, dragging her feet toward him. She was still exhausted from the attack last night, not just the Wraith Spawn, but by whatever magic had awakened the necklace that linked her to her sister.

  Even now, she thought she could feel Brae breathing—could hear the steady beat of her heart. She seemed disturbed this morning—no wonder after what they’d both experienced last night. But Mirae wanted to see her face more than anything. Until she reached Sunkai, she supposed she would have to be satisfied with Brae’s presence in her heart and soul. The people had always said there was something magical about them, and her father said they each had a little bit of magic in them, buried deep inside. Mirae supposed this was the magic she and her sisters had inside of them. Their love for each other had created their own special piece of power.

  “What do we do now?” Griyer asked, puffing as he jogged up beside Jaeger.