Black Ice Burning (Pale Queen Series Book 3)

by A. R. Kahler

  I am no longer just the assassin. No longer a servant. No longer a pawn.

  I’m the Winter Queen.

  And there is a shit ton of work to be done.

  Epilogue

  “Your Majesty,” Pan says, limping slightly into the room—weeks of repair, and he’s still not his usual self. He bows his head, which has been patched over. It’s a gesture that I’m finding quite easy to get used to. Especially when I’m looking down at my subjects. Being on a high throne like this has its perks.

  “What’s up?” I ask. Because I tried sounding all queenly and Mab-like in the first few days, and just ended up giggling to myself a lot. I figure I’m in charge now—they can put up with the way I talk.

  “You have . . . a visitor.”

  I can tell just from the twist in his words who it’s going to be. Despite myself, a smile forces itself over my lips. Right before he strides into the room. Right before I garb myself in the coldness Mab bestowed upon me. If only because it makes for a much better game.

  “Royalty suits you,” I call down. I love how my voice carries from up here. Makes me feel like I’m doing voice-overs for shitty fantasy movies.

  The Summer King strides in. It didn’t take him long to begin wearing the clothes of his station—the long flowing robes in brown and green, the tangle of vines that constitutes a crown in his black hair. Then again, as much as I thought I’d hate it, wearing Mab’s dresses does make me feel powerful. And sexy. And, okay, maybe there’s a metaphor in there, but not about shoes to fill. Bra sizes. Woman definitely had bigger knockers than I.

  “Your Highness,” Kingston says. He actually drops into an elegant bow, complete with a flourish of his cloak. It’s a move I’ve seen him use before, center ring. Almost as though he’s been training for this.

  “What brings you all the way here? Don’t you have a garden to plant?”

  He smiles at me when he rises. Oh, yes. I picked the right man to duel with for all eternity. He has a fire that matches mine. And I can see it only growing with age.

  “Many gardens, and many shows to plan. I trust you received my schedule.”

  I nod. He sent over the rough plans a few days ago. The Cirque des Immortels tour schedule. It didn’t feel right to let the show go to ruin, just as it didn’t feel right to let it fall from Winter’s clutches. But Kingston earned his place in the show. So I let him run it. I even let him keep 20 percent of the Dream.

  He bitched at the time, but I honestly think he likes it. After all, he could have walked away from my offer. He didn’t even blink.

  “You didn’t come here to discuss hiring performers,” I say. “You know that I don’t really care.”

  “I know. You should, but I know.”

  “Then why are you here? We’ve signed all the treaties.”

  “Yes, well, three things.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “One. Giving Eli control of Penelope’s castle was a horrible idea. I want you to reconsider.”

  I shrug. Regally. “I refuse to reconsider. He deserved as much.”

  “He’s luring in my people. You don’t want to know the rumors of what goes on in there.”

  “I don’t need to hear rumors. I’m an honored guest. And I know for a fact that you’ve been haunting his live aquatic shows. You’re not as good at the cloak-and-dagger gambit as you think.”

  He cocks an eyebrow at me, studying my face. I take a great amount of pride from the fact that, judging by his expression, he can’t read a trace of truth.

  I wasn’t lying, though—I’ve seen him lurking. Hell, I’ve seen the whole of Faerie at Eli’s shindigs. His parties are notorious in Faerie, which is saying something, since the Fey are already notorious in general for partying. He just seems to bring in a little je ne sais quoi.

  I didn’t think the Tapis Noir could get any better. Or more deviant. Or darker. But Eli found a way.

  “Two,” Kingston says, pulling my thoughts away from my last foray into group acrobatics. He doesn’t say anything at first. He’s practically bouncing, waiting for me to ask him to continue.

  “What?”

  He smiles, and all hint of regality slides off. He looks as giddy as a schoolboy.

  “Remember how Oberon tied the Oracle to himself? How her next life would be bound to him?”

  “Yes . . .”

  “She was bound to him, yes. But not to the creature. To the title. The Summer King.”

  I keep my face smooth.

  “I’d like to introduce my wife,” Kingston says grandly. “The Summer Queen.”

  She strides in. Her dress is white and emerald, her hair long and black and wavy, vines twisting through the strands. That’s when I notice that her ears are a little more pointed, her dark face ageless, yet somehow mature. Faeries come into this world full-fledged. And this woman’s a tree nymph if I ever saw one.

  “A pleasure,” I say. My heart hammers in my chest. Because this woman, this faerie, is just a body. I was always told the Oracle was a force, that in her reincarnations, she didn’t remember her past. She’s just the Oracle. Just another host for a force that remembers nothing of her lives before. She isn’t my—

  “Claire,” the Oracle says, smiling up at me. “Is that really any way to speak to your mother?”

  If I weren’t already sitting on a throne, I would have dropped to my knees.

  “Vivienne?” I whisper. “Mom?” I look to Kingston. “How?”

  “I’ve almost made you speechless,” he says. He holds up the woman’s hand. The ring I gave him glints darkly on her finger. “I owe you,” he says. “If you hadn’t given me this, I might not have figured it out.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “This stone holds memories,” he whispers. “You were wearing it when your mother died. And those memories transferred into the stone. I thought I felt something when I picked it up. And then, when you offered me the Summer Kingdom, it all clicked. The Oracle was bound to Summer, but she would come back without knowledge of who she was. But I had her memories right here. And if there’s one thing I’m good with by now, it’s memory magic.”

  My mouth is hanging open. I can’t . . .

  Then the woman smiles, and there’s something in her expression, in that warmth, that tells me everything Kingston said is true.

  I don’t descend slowly and gracefully from my throne. I leap down and land in the snow and run over to her. She flings her arms around me, buries her face into my neck, and I am crying, and she is crying, and despite the fact that I am surrounded by ice, my heart has never felt this warm.

  Kingston clears his throat after a moment. I remind myself harshly that encasing him in ice is not something I should be doing right now. Especially if I have my mom to answer to. Which just makes me wonder how I’m supposed to be at war with my own mother.

  Then I remember that Mab and I had been doing quite well with that, so it probably won’t be hard.

  “There was one more thing,” Kingston says. The excitement in his voice has died off. So much so that when I step back and look at him, I actually feel a note of . . . not fear. But hesitation.

  “What?” I ask.

  What more could there be? My mother is back—the Oracle is back. We’re in power. That’s all I need.

  “Well . . . ,” he begins, but it’s my mother that takes over.

  “I have had a vision,” she says. Her voice wavers, but it’s not the same emotion as our touching little reunion. Something in me whispers that the relief is going to be short-lived.

  “Winning lotto numbers?” I ask, trying to keep my voice light.

  She bites her lip. “It’s the Pale Queen.”

  “No,” I say. “She’s bound. Gone. Kablammo.”

  “Yes,” she replies. “But her work is not. She began breaking down the barrier between the mortal and faerie worlds.”

  “She failed,” I say, my words cold. “It’s been weeks since she was vanquished. Balance is being restored.
”

  “Perhaps,” says the Oracle, trailing off. But it’s Kingston who picks up the slack.

  “There are those amongst the Fey who still believe in her ideas,” he says. “And those who have found the remnants of her workings. Not to mention . . .”

  “What?”

  “Lilith didn’t die when she faced Penelope. She vanished. I don’t like it.”

  “You think she’s planning a revolt?”

  Kingston looks at his queen. He looks troubled.

  “I’ve seen hellfire,” Vivienne whispers. “I’ve seen the world of mortals wreathed in flames, and Fey dancing amidst the carnage.”

  “Lilith is the only demon I know of, save for Eli,” Kingston says. He hesitates. “When she finds out about Vivienne . . . she won’t be happy. Lilith always wanted to be with me. The only reason she’s been calm so long is because Vivienne was out of the way. I never fell for Lilith, but I think she thought I was hers.”

  I sigh.

  “You think she’s going to try to lead a rebellion?” I ask.

  Kingston nods. “I think she’ll want our whole world to burn.”

  I shake my head and turn, weaving a small amount of magic through me so I float up to my throne. When I’m seated, facing them, I feel like I’m back in power. For the moment.

  “If she thinks she can take this kingdom from me, she will learn the true strength of Winter.” My words are heavy, laden with power. I practically feel the castle—my castle—hum in response.

  “Besides,” I say, letting the pretense of royalty drop. “You’re the one who broke her heart. Maybe this will teach you not to mess with girls you don’t truly love.”

  He opens his mouth, but I wave my hand and his lips freeze shut. Technically that’s against our rules—no direct harm to the other monarch—but he’s on my turf.

  “Now, if you’ll excuse me,” I say, “Eli is having a party tonight. And if the world truly is about to end, I want to go down with a bang.” I grin. “Or twelve.”

  Kingston looks at me as if he wants spiders to shoot out of my skull. But here, he’s pretty much powerless. He takes Vivienne’s arm and starts to drag her away.

  “Oh, and Mom?” I say. She stops and turns. I can’t tell what she sees when she looks at me, but I know it’s not anger. I think she’s honestly intrigued. “I hope to see you there. Now that you’re back, we have a lot to catch up on. Eli makes a killer old-fashioned.”

  For a moment I worry that she’s going to go all logical on me—she just saw the end of humanity, just got reincarnated. It’s probably a lot to take in. But then she smiles, and in that look I know the truth—she’s put up with a lot. Hell, she put up with Kingston and the circus. She’s good at rolling with the punches.

  “I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” she says. “Which. Again. Is ending.” Then she winks at me. “Like always.”

  Then she turns and leads an aghast Kingston from the throne room.

  I can only hope the world isn’t ending.

  Eternity is going to be a lot of fun with her.

  It’s about time I fought against an equal.

  Acknowledgments

  It’s bittersweet to end a series. Especially a series that truthfully started five books ago. It’s been quite an amazing ride, and I would never have thought it would take me this far. I’m eternally grateful for the experience and the chance to share this all with you. There are countless people to thank, and as usual I won’t manage to mention each and every one. The list continually grows, which is just another thing to be thankful for.

  First, to my agent, Laurie McLean of Fuse Literary. There aren’t enough words to describe how important you’ve become, both to my career and to my life in general. You’re dear family and my knight in cybernetic armor. I couldn’t have done any of this without you, and I am so excited for the things we will do together. The entire team at Fuse Literary has been the greatest ally—thank you for being there, every step of the way.

  Next, to Jason Kirk and the entire team at 47North, including Nicci Hubert and Rebecca Jaynes. I’ve been blessed to work with such amazingly talented and passionate (and innovative) people. Thank you a thousand times over for continuing to help share my stories with the world. The love and attention you’ve put into these books both inspires and humbles me.

  A huge thanks to my parents, for supporting me throughout the crazy process that is, well, having a writer for a son. You believed when I didn’t, and that has meant everything.

  They say where there’s a will there’s a way. In my case, where there’s a Will there’s a way. A huge thanks to Will Taylor for constantly being there. From emotional support to edits to helping me out of the many corners I’ve written myself into, none of this would have been possible without you. Here’s to Iceland, and a thousand more misadventures.

  To my many other writing friends, Kristin Halbrook, Danielle Dreger, Lish McBride, David Levithan, Kirsten Hubbard, Sarah Enni, and Delilah Dawson. So many of you have held my hand or pushed me forward. It takes a village. I’m very proud to be part of the havens we’ve built.

  And, finally, to you. The thousands of readers who’ve gleefully stepped into this kingdom of riley faeries and mysterious circuses and a diabolical Faerie Queen. Your letters and notes have made it all worth it. I cannot wait to keep sharing more worlds and excitement with you.

  The show will go on . . .

  About the Author

  Photo © 2014 Kindra Nikole Photography

  Originally from small-town Iowa, A. R. Kahler attended an arts boarding school to study writing at the age of sixteen. Since then, he has traveled all over the world, earning a master’s degree in creative writing from the University of Glasgow and teaching circus arts in Amsterdam and Madrid. He currently lives in Seattle, Washington. For more information about him and his work, visit www.arkahler.com.