by Amber Argyle
Elice gave a bitter laugh. “She’s not my mother at all.” She pivoted on her heel and marched away.
“Don’t say that,” her grandfather called after her.
“Chriel was right! Ilyenna should no longer be queen!”
“The only way to unseat a queen is to kill her. You know that.”
Elice whipped around. “The War of the Queens has been raging for longer than I can remember. If my mother was dead, it would stop.”
Her grandfather’s eyes glittered with anger. “And what do you think would happen to you if she dies? With the powers of winter, you are a threat to any future queen. One she would end easily.”
Elice backed away from him. “Would I be in any more danger from a stranger than my own mother?”
“Are you willing to take the chance?”
“Chriel was right, Grandfather, and we both know it.”
“You better hope she wasn’t.”
Elice walked away with a measured cadence. When she opened the door to her room, she was surprised to see Adar there. He jumped off her bed, atlas in hand.
“I know you told me not to come in here anymore, but the wood is completely out and I think there is a way we could hike out of—” He stopped, his expression changing to one of concern. “Elice, why are you bleeding?”
She rushed to her wardrobe and jerked open the doors, then grabbed her satchel and stuffed in a change of clothes. Next she went to her bed and stripped off the blankets. “We’re leaving. Now.”
“Chriel?”
Elice staggered as the pain of losing her friend slammed into her again, but this time without anger or disbelief to curtail it. She hunched over, gasping. “My mother killed her.”
“Fire and burning, no.” Adar came toward her. Elice held out her hand to stop him. “Don’t—don’t touch me.” With the cold raging from her, she didn’t trust herself not to hurt him.
Dropping his hands to his sides, he nodded. Elice wiped her nose on her sleeve and said, “We’ll head west, along the coast until it curves to the south. There are villages farther southwest. If we can get on a boat we’ll be all right.”
Adar watched her with concern, his hands hovering as if he thought she might pass out. “Your mother will send the fairies after us.”
“I can protect us from the fairies,” Elice scoffed.
“And from your mother?”
Elice slung her satchel over her shoulder. “She can’t force me to come back.” Realizing he was probably more worried about himself than her, she said, “I won’t let her hurt you. I swear I won’t.”
He advanced on her with the same carefulness she used when approaching a wounded animal. “Are you sure you want to do this? Because there might not be any coming back.”
She looked up into his dark eyes. “I never want to come back.” Very slowly, he reached out. “Don’t—”
“You won’t hurt me, Elly.” He took hold of her arms and pulled her to him. She collapsed against his chest, and even through all the layers of his clothes, the warmth of him was overwhelming. Soft and yielding, yet strong and right at the same time. She fit here—her body molding itself to his.
Adar pulled back and looked into her eyes. “What if you knew you were going to be captured by the Summer Queen? Would you still go?”
Elice steeled herself. “I would be no more of a prisoner with the Summer Queen than with my own mother.” He looked at her a long time, indecision on his face. She clenched her hands into fists. “I’m going. You don’t have to come, though you won’t survive without me.”
He reached out and tucked a stray strand of her wild hair behind her ear. “I know a warrior’s heart when I see one. I’ll stick with you.” Elice didn’t understand why he seemed so sad when he said it.
The pain of Chriel was still there in her heart, still overwhelming, but there had to be a way through it. A way beyond it. And Elice had a purpose now.
Just then, a startled gasp sounded from the door. Before Elice could even think, Adar had shoved her behind him—a stupid move, since he was the one who needed protecting.
“Elice,” came the voice of her grandfather.
She emerged from behind Adar, her hands up to encourage them both to stay calm. “Grandfather, this is Adar—he’s one of the men from the ship Mother sank. I found him. I’ve been caring for him.”
“The fox,” her grandfather said.
Elice nodded. “I’m going with him. And—and I’m not coming back.”
Her grandfather quickly shut the door behind him. “I’m sorry about Chriel, but this . . .”
It was still too raw for Elice to talk about. “I won’t be a prisoner here anymore, Grandfather. I have to go.”
He watched her with his filmy gaze. “I know.” She blinked at him in surprise. She’d expected arguments. “I’ve been trying to get your mother to let you go for a few years now.”
“You have?”
Otec sighed and stiffly lowered himself onto one of her chairs, then rested his hands atop his cane. “Your soul shines too bright not to share, Elice.” His gaze swung to Adar. “But I’m not convinced this is the way to leave. Do you even know this man?”
Adar inclined his head. “I am her friend.”
Her grandfather made a sound low in his throat. “What was your ship doing in the Winter Queendom in the first place?”
“We were lost in a storm and couldn’t navigate because of cloud cover.”
“So you were lost? Very convenient.”
Elice sighed. “Grandfather, he knows who I am. He knows I could freeze him with a thought. I can take care of myself.”
Her grandfather’s gaze softened as he looked at her. “Sometimes men only reveal what they want you to see, Elice. Believe me, there are other ways he can hurt you.”
She swallowed an angry retort. “Mother will never let me go. You know that. This is the only chance I will ever have.”
Otec pursed his lips and studied her for a long time. “You will do this with or without my help?”
“Yes, I will.”
“Very well.” He rose to his feet, kissed her forehead, and started toward the door.
“Grandfather, what do you mean to do?”
He turned back to her. “I’m going to try to save this young man’s life.” Elice shot Adar a nervous look. Her grandfather sighed. “I can’t make any promises, but she is my daughter. Sometimes she forgets that. It’s time to remind her.” He studied Adar. “I hope you are as honorable as my granddaughter seems to think you are.”
“I will do whatever I can to help her.”
“Even if that means letting her go?” Elice’s grandfather said quietly.
Adar’s brow furrowed and he slowly nodded. “Even then.”
Unable to stand it anymore, Elice darted forward and embraced her grandfather. The pendant he’d given her was a painful lump between them. He squeezed her and whispered, “I love you, my Elly girl.”
“I love you too,” she said. And then he was gone, leaving another aching hole in Elice’s chest. For all that she was going toward, it seemed she was leaving more behind.
“Let’s go,” she said to Adar. “Before my mother discovers we’re gone.”
Hand in hand, they raced down the front stairs of the palace. The movement jostled Adar’s shoulder, but he only gritted his teeth and kept moving. He didn’t try to cover his face. A confrontation was looming no matter what they did. Now more than ever, he wished for the comforting weight of his swords—even if those swords would be next to useless against the Queen of Winter.
Just as they left the sheltered grove of Elice’s ice trees, an aurora shot through the sky above them. The snow reflected bizarre green shimmers. Elice whirled around, pushing Adar behind her. He let her. Here, she was the one with the power. Though it rankled him, he kept his good arm at his side.
In the sky, green lights shifted like a current curving around a rock. In the center of that current, he saw her, the Winter Queen. She wore w
hite, and her hair had the same wavy tangles as her daughter’s. They shared the same large eyes and full lips. But where Elice was emotive and eager to please, Ilyenna’s expressions were all harsh lines and sharp edges.
The woman landed in a crouch before them. Her gaze locked with Adar’s. In her eyes he saw a raging blizzard that seemed to scourge him from the inside out. He held tighter to Elice, silently asking her to take the cold beating down on him.
“Elice,” Ilyenna said, her voice warbling as if she was barely in control. “What have you done?”
“I’m leaving, Mother. And I won’t be coming back.”
Her mother rose regally to her feet with the smooth grace of a barely leashed predator. “Chriel was a traitor—”
“She was more of a mother to me than you have ever been!” Elice cried, her touch suddenly sending freezing barbs through Adar’s hand. He jerked free and cradled it against his chest, his fingers already numb and heavy. He should have realized how close she was to losing control.
“You have no idea how hard I have to fight to retain any scrap of humanity.” Ilyenna’s nostrils flared and cold radiated off her in waves, piercing Adar’s thick clothing as if he wore rags.
He studied Elice, whose beauty was exemplified in everything she touched, and he wondered how that touch had failed to penetrate her mother’s fierceness. How lonely Elice must have been, lost here in the dark. Suddenly, his anger toward her mother roared inside him like a bonfire. “Well, you failed,” he shouted. “You’re more fairy now than—”
Ilyenna made a flinging motion with her hand, slamming a raging blizzard into him. Adar staggered back several steps before he could brace himself. Pain lanced through his shoulder. Hand up to protect his face from the snow flaying him alive, he struggled forward a couple steps, blinded by the storm.
“Elice!” he cried.
Then the wind stopped. Elice was trapped in a cage of icicles. With one flick of her wings, the queen stood before Adar. He staggered back, holding in his grimace of pain as she studied him, calm as death. “So you are why my daughter has turned against me.”
“Don’t hurt him!” Elice screamed.
Adar felt real fear then, for Ilyenna was endless and inhuman. But he was a warrior—one of the finest in his realm. He squared his shoulders. “Let her go.”
Ilyenna’s gaze narrowed. “You cannot trust this man, Elice. You can’t trust any of them.”
The ice binding Elice flickered to snow that immediately turned back to ice. “I trust him more than I trust you!” she screamed.
Ilyenna shook her head. “I have warned you—all my life I have warned you.”
“And because of that, I have been safe.” Elice’s words dripped with bitterness. “But the price of that safety is that I have never known warmth. Never felt the grass beneath my feet. Never smelled a real tree. I’ve never had a friend I shared secrets or gossip with. Never laughed myself silly. I would trade one day of that for a thousand years here.”
In that moment, Adar swore he would find a way to give Elice at least some of those things before his mission was through. Then Ilyenna’s chin came up and she reached toward him. He tensed, waiting for the cold to suck his life away, but her fingers gently brushed across his cheek. Adar thought of the dagger Elice had given him. But though he was fast, he knew the queen’s cold was faster.
“I could kill him,” Ilyenna murmured. “And then you would forget such ridiculous fantasies. You would come home and things will be as they were.”
“Things will never be as they were.” Elice had finally stopped struggling. “And if you hurt him, I will never forgive you.”
Ilyenna finally looked at her daughter. “Very well. I will agree to let him go. We will never speak of this day again. And you will stop this little . . . rebellion of yours. You see how merciful I am?”
Then Elice would never be free. It was foolish, so very foolish, but Adar drew his dagger and lunged at the queen. Ilyenna didn’t even look at him as a blast of wind hit him and threw him back. His back crashed into one of Elice’s trees so hard it shook, sending delicate prisms cascading down around him. The pain in his shoulder was momentarily blinding. Dizzy and reeling, he tried to get to his feet, but his body refused to cooperate.
“I told you, Elice, you cannot trust them.” Ilyenna stalked toward Adar, her hands shifting to a brilliant silver-white.
“No!” Elice screamed at the same time another voice said, “Ilyenna, let him go!”
Elice’s grandfather was gasping for breath as he emerged from the edge of the forest. He came up short as icicles fell from the sky, impaling the ground around him and trapping him. “Ilyenna, stop!”
The Winter Queen walked calmly to Adar and cocked her head as she looked down at him. “What game are you playing with my daughter?”
“I swear,” Elice sobbed, “if you kill him I’ll throw myself from the towers!”
Pretty sure he wouldn’t survive this encounter, Adar tried to catch his breath. Might as well tell the queen what he thought of her and how she treated her daughter. “I’ve been her friend. Which is more than I can say of you.”
The Winter Queen’s gleaming hands twitched. “Elice has no inkling of the guile of men. I will not allow any harm to come to her.” She bent down, stretching toward him. Adar knew he was going to die. But he did not flinch away. He would not face the end as a coward.
Otec whacked at the ice shards with his cane.
Elice screamed, “I’ll make a bargain!”
Ilyenna turned to face her daughter. “You are willing to strike a deal with the queen of all the winter fairies?” Adar had seen that same hungry gleam before—no fairy could resist a bargain. Especially when she knew she would win.
When Elice’s eyes came to rest on him, he shook his head. He would rather have her here, making her sculptures of ice and living what life she could, than torn apart by fairy magic. “Their price is always too high.”
But Elice’s expression only hardened. “Yes,” she said.
Adar wasn’t sure if her confirmation was for him or her mother. Maybe both.
A slow, brittle smile spread across Ilyenna’s face. “Very well. If you can pass beyond my queendom by the close of Winter’s End, you and the boy shall go free. Fail, and you will happily return here and never again leave.”
Adar could see Elice calculating in her head before she said, “Nine days. And you swear you and your fairies won’t interfere or try to stop us?”
“We will not. But I warn you, Elice, my protection will be withdrawn. If you want your freedom, you must earn it alone.”
“You can’t trust her, Elly,” Adar hissed. “She won’t keep her end of the bargain—they never do.”
“And if I fail,” Elice went on, ignoring him, “you’ll let Adar go? You won’t hurt him?”
Ilyenna spread her hands and gave a little bow. “He shall be free to do as he pleases, provided he never return to the Winter Queendom.”
Elice stared at the fairy who was her mother. “And the price?”
“You will lose everything save yourself.”
Elice took a deep breath and let it out. “I accept.”
“Then it is done,” Ilyenna’s voice rang with authority. Elice winced and Adar knew what she was feeling—the bands of the bargain snapped in place tight over her ribs. He knew enough about fairies and their magic to know they were both doomed.
With a wave of Ilyenna’s hand, the ice encasing Elice turned to snow. She stood on shaking legs, snow cascading from her. Head held high, she marched to Adar and pulled him up by his good hand. Pain stabbed through his shoulder, and he wobbled a little. She wrapped her arm around him and steadied him against her side.
Her grandfather was already free. He shuffled up the rise and wrapped Elice in his arms. “But that I could come with you.”
Elice held on just as tightly. “You’re the only person who keeps any humanity in her at all.” That he would not make the journey was left unspoke
n, though they both had to know it was true.
Otec held her at arm’s length. “I can’t let you face this alone.”
“I’m not alone,” Elice whispered back.
After a long time, he released her and glanced at Adar, his gaze assessing. “I hold you responsible for her.”
Adar knew immediately what the other man meant. “I will spare her the price, if I can.” Though he knew that if they did manage to escape, Elice would pay that and more. Fire and burning, what had he done?
Elice took first one step back and then another, her gaze never leaving her grandfather’s face. “I swear,” he said, “one day, we will be a family again.”
Elice’s gaze flashed to her mother before settling back on her grandfather, and she gave him a wobbly smile. “I know.”
Otec nodded and Elice turned, her tread heavy. This time, Adar took her hand, pulling her to his side. He retrieved the ice knife from where it had fallen, then tucked it back into its sheath on his belt. Together, they crested the hill and started down the other side.
Though it was the middle of the night, the sun still shone brightly, as it always did this time of year in the queendom. But for once, Elice was blind to the light. To her left was the sound of the rolling waves. To the right were the massive cliffs of the glacier. The vast emptiness around her felt like a living thing, sucking the life from her. She listened to the wailing call of the seals, their haunting melody making the night all the more bitter.
“You need to rest, Elice,” Adar said from beside her. She heard the pain and cold in his voice—he’d hit her tree very hard. She reached out, taking his hand.
“I’ve already lost everything. What else does my mother think to take?”
Adar cleared his throat. “There’s a story about how the stars came into the sky, it involves a woman and—”
“Luminash.” Elice knew he was trying to distract her and felt infinitely grateful for it. “I read that in a book.” She pushed her palms into her eyes to stave off her tears. “A book Chriel gave me.” She choked back a sob. “My mother revoked her ability to transfer and killed her.”