Frost Kisses (Bitter Frost #4: Frost Series)

by Kailin Gow

  I sighed. How could I be both Kian's intended and the subject of Logan's prophecy? I couldn't deny Logan right now, especially given the joy in his voice and all he'd suffered, but I felt myself pulled violently in two opposite directions! How could I love these two men – so different, but both so noble and good – at the same time? And how could I be destined for both of them?

  I sighed. “We have to find Kian,” I said, choosing not to answer Logan's protestations of love right now.

  At the sound of his name, I heard a voice – weak and faint, but unmistakable – coming through the back of my mind. Breena! It was Kian. He sounded frail and exhausted; I could sense his pain.

  Where are you? I looked around wildly, as if hoping to see Kian before me.

  The wolves managed to overpower me. Kian's voice grew weaker. They wounded me and carried me off. They haven't done too much yet, but they've taken me to this cave!

  Kian!

  But he'd vanished now – too weak to communicate.

  I sat up. “Logan, Kian says they've taken him to a cave. Do you know where that could be?”

  Logan furrowed his brow. “Balthazar has a cave,” he said. “He uses it as its main lair.”

  “Balthazar said he was paid off to attack me – that Flynn hired him in order to make sure I was never found. Apparently he found out I was still alive – but wanted to make sure I didn't stay that way. He hated Summer – hated Kian for falling for a Summer Princess. He knew that rising through the ranks of the military was the only way for him to gain power in the kingdom, and he couldn't do that if there was peace.”

  “So Balthazar is on the side of the Winter Court,” spat Logan.

  “No,” I said. “He's like the Pixies – he doesn't care who wins as long as he gets the spoils. In any case, Flynn can't be considered part of the Winter Court: Kian banished him. Kian didn't want anyone getting in the way of peace.”

  “And Flynn didn't want anyone getting in the way of Flynn.” Logan rolled his eyes.

  “We have to help Kian!” I pulled at Logan's sleeve. “I know this is the last thing you want, but...”

  “He saved my life,” said Logan softly. “In the battle – he risked his own life to save mine. He has done so before. Whatever my personal feelings are, Kian is a brave man. We owe him that much, I understand.”

  “Thank you.” I squeezed Kian's hand.

  “I know where Balthazar's cave is,” said Logan. “I'll take you there. Not as a favor to you – it's not like that this time. I want to help Kian too. We both care about you and we both care about peace. And I know we all need each other now.”

  He touched my nose lightly. “But if we're going to reach the Wolf Kingdom soon, we'll have to get a move on.”

  He transformed into a wolf once more, barking for me to get on. I straddled his back and we rode on once more into the night.

  Chapter 13

  Logan and I rode into a place I had never seen before, into depths of Feyland that I did not recognize. The lands here were no longer as clearly seasonal as they were in the places where the Fey had sway, nor were they as barren and cold as the Pixie realms where Delano had kept me imprisoned. Instead, this region was beautiful and tangled: everywhere there were thick tree trunks surrounded by long vines and overhanging branches, giving the forest the appearance of a maze. We could no longer run; instead, we had to tread carefully, brushing aside hanging branches and peering around every corner in case of danger. I dismounted, and Logan transformed once more into his human form.

  “Wolf territory,” he said, looking around, sniffing the air as if to identify the scent of the vanished wolf camp.

  “I never knew this place existed,” I said. “You never told me – there's so much about the Wolf life that you never told me.” How had I never known, for example, that Logan was a prince in his own clan, or that he had a grandfather who had been killed? When?

  Logan looked down, ashamed. “I never wanted you to think of me as anything less than human,” he said. “Even when you found out about me, about me being a werewolf, I just didn't bring it up. I didn't want you to think I was weird.”

  I laughed. “I have silver blood and am immortal – how could I think you weird?

  “It's different,” Logan sighed. “Fairies look like humans, they act like humans – but better. Prettier. More powerful. Werewolves – we're...animals. And I guess I didn't want you to see me that way.”

  I took Logan's hand. “The only way I see you,” I said, “is as a brave, noble warrior. I don't care what you are!” I laughed. “And hey – at least you're not a pixie!”

  “Small comfort,” grumbled Logan.

  As we walked through the Wolf realm Logan began telling me more about the werewolf clan, about the life he lived outside of me, outside of the intrigues of the fairies. “I have my own reasons for fighting this battle,” Logan said. “My loyalty is part of it, but it's so much more than that. It's about my people. My wolves – my pack. My clan. It was my decision to ally our clan with the Summer fairies. But there were rogue wolves among us, wolves who ally with anyone who gave them the largest spoils of war.”

  “Wolves like Balthazar,” I breathed.

  “Yes, like Balthazar. And those he commands. They believe that the best outcome for us all is that the fairies of Summer and the fairies of Winter kill each other, so that we wolves can take over in their absence. They didn't like the fact that Grandfather wanted peace. They wanted to sell themselves as mercenaries to the highest bidder – fighting for Summer or Winter, whoever paid them more, in the hopes that the two fairy courts would cancel each other out. So they conspired to assassinate Grandfather. And they managed it!” Logan's expression turned dark. “He died in my arms. And with him died many of the hopes of the Wolf Fey.”

  “The chance for peace?”

  “More than that.” Logan sighed. “I never told you this, Breena – because I didn't want to pressure you.”

  “What?”

  “We're not simply human-wolf hybrids, werewolves. We have a certain amount of Fey magic within us – magic that allows us to shift back and forth between our wolf and our human natures. And the fairy blood within us is dying out, more than ever now that wolves like Balthazar have bred a hatred of Fey in our clans. And if the fairy blood dies out...”

  “You won't be able to shift?”

  “Exactly. We'll become dumb, mute beasts, who only snarl and attack. Not this generation, and perhaps not the next, but our grandchildren...they may be but wolves.”

  “And you didn't tell me.”

  “How could I tell you that the hopes of all my wolf supporters rested on my love for you?” Logan laughed. “I know how you felt when Delano wanted to use you to breed pixie-fairy hybrids. How is this any different?”

  “It's different,” I said – haltingly, as I tried to put my thoughts together - “because I care about you. Because you're my friend.”

  “It is not every wolf who finds a fairy bride,” said Logan. “We can't all be so lucky.”

  We came to the end of the tangled wood, and arrived at the foot of a mountain. There we saw a manor built into the side of the rock out of wood and stone, an elaborate mansion that looked, I thought, like a rustic grand manor in the woods.

  “Wolves like darkness,” Logan explained. “Especially when we shift. I'm used to shifting, so it's not so bad, but it's...less embarrassing if we have a bit of privacy.” Logan looked down. “Something else you should know since you’ve met him a few times at my house in Gregory… my father is a werewolf, too, and he’s the Wolf King.”

  My mouth opened in astonishment. His father, too? I pictured Logan’s father, who was shorter and smaller than Logan, but still powerfully-built. I had always seen him in a suit since he was a lawyer in Gregory.

  “I know, you’d never have thought,” Logan said smiling. “Like father, like son. We’re both wolves.”

  He picked up the brass knocker and knocked loudly three times.

  The do
or creaked open.

  “My Prince!” An old man with a mess of white bushy whiskers opened the door. “But your father is not at home!” His eyes bulged in surprise. “We did not expect you; the King is attending to business in the Land Beyond the Crystal River.”

  Logan sighed. “So he’s still not back. Thank you, Baneflint.” He put an arm around my shoulder and whispered to me. “Business means my mother. She's human...and not well at the moment. Dad had to see her back in Gregory.”

  I touched Logan’s hand. “I’m sorry she’s ill.”

  Logan smiled. “It would be nice if she can cross the River and stay in Feyland, but she’s human. Her life’s in Gregory.”

  I nodded. “Like my mom. I wished I knew all this before. My mom and your mom could’ve help each other… talk about Feyland gossip or something. You know… have them connect with Feyland society.”

  At that, Logan and I looked at each other before bursting into laughter. Picturing our mothers together talking about Feyland gossip was so far removed from our grave thoughts of battling rogue wolves and Pixies, we had to laugh. And it felt great to be able to laugh with Logan, just like we always did back in Gregory.

  Finally Logan stopped and said. “I needed that, Bree. Thanks.” He noticed Baneflint standing there then. “Baneflint,” said Logan in a loud, commanding voice. “I need you to gather up all the wolves that are in this house – right away, and tell them that the Prince commands them to appear in an assembly in the Main Chamber. Can you do that?”

  The old man responded not with words but with a bark, and transformed instantly into a silver-white wolf – looking aged but still noble, as did his human counterpart – and bounded past us into the depths of the manor.

  “The house-bit is just the front,” said Logan. “It makes the non-wolf side of us feel at home, but the rooms all extend into the mountainside – through caves and tunnels. There could be hundreds of wolves staying here at any one time. We'll need reinforcements if we want to march on Balthazar's men.”

  Suddenly, the sound of running feet came down the hall. I gasped as I saw what must have been easily a hundred pairs of yellow, lupine eyes staring out at me from the darkness. One by one, the wolves emerged, their noses sniffing at the intruder – me – their haunches raised and their mouths just agape enough to display rows of grinning teeth. I knew that these were simply wolves like Logan, but I couldn't help feeling nervous at the sight of all those fangs. Logan squeezed my hand reassuringly, but I held my breath until, at last, they changed at once into a hundred humans.

  They were beautiful, almost uniformly – strong, rugged, masculine creatures whose muscles still bore the sense of animal urgency. They all stood up straight, staring at Logan with love and admiration – the loyalty of soldiers waiting for their Prince to speak.

  “It is my duty,” began Logan, “to inform you that I have been attacked by Balthazar, the traitor wolf and conspirator against our Wolf Clan!”

  A murmur rose up from the crowd. They may have been humans now, but there was something distinctively animal about the way the pack interacted, sniffing and muttering to each other.

  “He has also threatened the life of my fairy queen, Breena! Some of you may have remembered being present at our engagement...”

  I gulped. I wasn't sure how this pack of wolves would take my rejection of their leader's hand in marriage. Luckily Logan seemed to pass over the issue.

  “There you swore an oath of loyalty not only to me, but to my fairy bride-to-be, the Queen Breena. And I will ask that you act upon this oath now. Balthazar's wolves have attacked and kidnapped the Winter Prince Kian, keeping him hostage in the hope of extending this war further. In the hopes of propelling us into a war we do not wish to fight.” Logan raised himself up to his full height. “You remember my Grandfather, Silverfoot. You remember how he hated war, and loved peace. You remember how you all loved him!”

  The crowd murmured and nodded in assent.

  “Now I ask you to honor him – by retaliating against these dreadful invaders. If Winter wishes to take control of the rogue wolves, we must side to protect the interests of Summer, including the restoration of Breena's friend and ally, Prince Kian, to the throne!”

  The werewolves howled in unison, transforming once more into their unsettling animal form as they did so. I instinctively stepped back into Logan, letting him place his arms around my shoulders for protection. The Wolf Fey were a formidable group, and as I watched these large wolves, I could not help but fear for their foe. I wasn't interested in getting on the wrong side of these creatures.

  “They're perfectly safe,” Logan whispered. “They're loyal. They're my men.”

  All the same, I was glad when they transformed once more into humans, and began marching in a soldierly line out of the mansion, and towards Balthazar's cave, secreted away in the distant, cloud-capped North.

  Chapter 14

  We marched through the middle of the night. The stars shone cold above us, like so many bright snowflakes illuminating the ink-blue darkness. The light of the moon and stars set into relief the shirtless bodies of the werewolves – each stronger and more chiseled than the last – and I must admit that Logan caught my gaze lingering too long once or twice on these mysterious creatures, whose animal eyes and animal urges made them all the more entrancing. Who were these enigmatic figures, this clan that Logan had for so long kept from me? He said that he was afraid that his wolfish side would make me see him in a new light – was that true?

  I considered Logan alongside the other werewolves. At their head, it was true; he did seem less human than he did before. I had always seen Logan as an affable best friend, a charming – reliable figure that could always be counted on to do the right thing. Even the Wolf I had so often seen Logan become had been a figure of stability to me.

  But it was different now. Seeing Logan lead this army of half-men, half-wolves, who seemed no less dangerous with their weapons and their armor than they did with their teeth and their snarls, Logan seemed stronger, somehow, more powerful. He was not merely the loyal best friend I had come to take for granted. He was a prince in his own right, strong and brave, with a life I had never even heard about despite knowing him almost my whole life. How could I not have known about his grandfather, or about his promise to wed a fairy woman? How could I have known that behind the soft, kind exterior, beneath those warm brown eyes, there lay this stalwart warrior, whose resolve was only matched by his power? Logan's face had never seemed more alluring to me then, when it was set against the opposition – his jaw clenched and his dark eyes blazing as images of Balthazar danced across his brain. His body had never seemed more powerful. He had never seemed more dangerous.

  I was almost afraid to speak, lest I awaken the wolf within him. That loyal dog had become in my mind a dangerous beast, like these other majestic beings. He had let me ride him, but it became increasingly clear to me as I watched the werewolves march that any woman who tried to ride on a werewolf's back unbidden would very easily risk becoming their dinner.

  I thought back to the nights of passion Logan and I had shared under the spell. My memory was fuzzier than it had been – freed by time from the prison of my fantasies which had haunted my dreams, off and on, for so many nights since Kian had broken the spell – but I still remembered Logan's strength, Logan's passion, his kisses… Looking at him now, in the context of his wolfish clan, it no longer surprised me as it had done that first night, when I expected friendly affection and got his fiery ardor instead.

  Perhaps, I thought sadly, trying not to let Logan see my face, it was better that Logan had kept me in the dark about his Wolf side up to now. The last thing I needed was any distraction from my love for Kian, and the sight of so many stunning werewolves marching in unison, their muscles so prominently on display was, to say the least, distracting.

  Logan sauntered up next to me. “So, you see – you've gotten to know the Wolf clan at last,” he said.

  “They're certa
inly...interesting.”

  “You think they'll bite?” Logan gave me an affable grin, but I couldn't help but perceive the slight flirtation behind it.

  “It's ridiculous,” I laughed. “This whole time knowing you – and I never knew...”

  “That I commanded armies? That there were more like us?”

  “No, I knew that... I mean, once I found out about the werewolf thing... I just didn't really think about it. So much was going on right then, you know? I didn't really just sit down and think about what life must be like for you. What being a werewolf was like?”

  “Is this what you expected?” Logan gave a little laugh.

  “Well, it's certainly more... primal than the Summer Court.” Two of the werewolves had stopped for water, and had gotten into a tussle over the first taste, an argument evidently solved by wrestling each other by the riverbank – like two overgrown puppies.

  “I suppose it's not as refined as what you're used to with Kian!” Logan looked down quickly, realizing that I'd said too much.

  “It's a nice change,” I said. “I'm not worried about Court etiquette and negotiating diplomacy.”

  “Just about being eaten!” Logan let out a hearty laugh, one that it was all too easy to join in.

  “You're joking, right?” I just wanted to make sure.

  “These wolves are loyal to me,” said Logan. “But don't go sitting in front of the noses of any rogue wolves...”

  “Wasn't planning on it,” I said, putting my hand on my sword. “Next time I'm in front of those wolves I intend for them to be far too terrified to worry about dinner.”

  “That's my girl,” Logan clapped me on the shoulder.

  His hand lingered a moment too long, and we exchanged a glance – fleeting and full of meaning – before hurriedly springing apart.

  “Sorry,” Logan mumbled.

  “Sorry.”

  We had by now reached a plateau in the mountain range, which led into a deep cave that gaped open at us like the mouth of a snake. The wolves all stopped short, and I gathered that this was the lair that we had come to seek. Two men – by their long hair and furry chests I guessed werewolves – were standing guard.