by Amber Argyle
“I’m coming with you,” Sakari said, her face set.
Elice reached out and touched her cheek, which was smooth and soft. “My mother’s wrath isn’t kindled toward you. I think she would let you go.”
Sakari took Elice’s outstretched hand in her own and squeezed it before releasing it. “Even after you leave winter, you will need help from the people. I can get it for you.”
Elice shook her head. “I can’t see you hurt. Not after today. I won’t let anyone else die for me.”
“You think I fear death?” Sakari snorted. “If it takes me to be with all those who died instead of me, I welcome it.” She pushed past Elice and Adar.
“Come on, Elice,” Adar said, and then he too trudged up the hill.
She paused and turned back, considering Aklaq. She formed a shelter of packed snow, leaving plenty of room for the dogs. “Will you be all right?” She didn’t look at him as she asked, knowing that if she met his eyes, she’d completely lose hold of her emotions.
“I am strong, and I have plenty of food and a shelter. We will be fine.”
It sent a pang through her to realize it was true—he would be safer without her. “Thank you,” she choked out. “Tell Tikaani’s family . . .” Elice couldn’t finish. She turned around and made for the others, not wanting the highman to see the tears freezing to her cheeks.
With Adar and Sakari beside her, Elice studied the steep slope. Far below, the terrain flattened out into a never-ending plain of green that made her insides churn with longing. There was summer. They only had this one last mountain to cross. But her mother was certain to come after them with something else.
Elice pulled on winter, spreading a blanket of fluffy snow straight down as far as she could see. Then she formed three sleds of ice. “Let’s outrun her.” She took the first sled—she’d need to be in the lead in case she had to call upon more snow. “Steer by leaning,” she told Adar and Sakari. “Jump off before you crash into anything.”
Elice pushed off. Immediately, the wind tore at her loose clothes and hair. A pang of fear tore through her. She glanced back to find Sakari and Adar racing after her. She vowed to protect them with her own life if necessary.
A lone howl brought her head around. Behind them, standing above a precipice, Lowl lifted her black snout toward the sky. The precipice before the wolf began to slide, the snow sloughing off its surface. An avalanche hurtled toward the sledders, moving like water, billows of snow rising like dust.
The roar reached Elice then, the wind pushing against them from behind. Adar was shouting something, but she couldn’t hear him over the rushing sound. The snow would overtake them in moments. Elice turned back to see her friends veering off the path. Thinking fast, she adjusted the slope ahead of them, making it not quite ice, but almost. She adjusted the runners, too, sharpening the edges.
All three sleds careened dangerously down the mountain, the wave of snow thundering after them. Elice concentrated, keeping the ice slick and the runners working perfectly; if either failed, she and Sakari and Adar would be overtaken.
At the base of the mountain, Elice’s power over winter suddenly slipped. It was like winter was still there, but muffled instead of crisp and clear. The sleds kept going, but she had lost her wicked-fast control over snow and ice. They were at the mercy of the mountain now. The mountain and her mother.
The icy path softened, the snow turning slushy. The sleds slowed down and veered dangerously, first to one side and then the other. It took all Elice’s effort to steer her sled. Then one of her runners caught an edge. She flipped and rolled down the mountain. She heard a grunt and something slammed into her, shattering when it hit. Another body was rolling with hers—Sakari, her limbs flying in every direction.
Finally, they came to a tangled halt. Moaning, Elice sat up and caught sight of Sakari’s form—limp and unmoving, just as Elice’s father had been those years ago. She held her trembling fingers under Sakari’s nose and was relieved to feel the reassuring puffs of breath. Elice pushed herself up, slush seeping between her fingers. Adar had managed to slow his sled enough to jump off and run for them. Behind him, the avalanche was still devouring the landscape.
“Run!” he screamed. He threw an unconscious Sakari over his good shoulder. Elice shot after him, knowing they would suffocate if the rushing snow overtook them. With a deafening roar, it exploded past them, tearing shrubs from the ground with a great ripping sound.
Somehow the avalanche didn’t hit them. Elice was running too fast to look back to see why. Beneath her feet, slush gave way to mud, which gave way to spongy green grass. Suddenly she knew they had left the Winter Realm.
Chest heaving, she turned to look behind them. Her mother stood, her wings spread to block the avalanche, which spread out onto the tundra all around them. The Winter Queen had spared their lives. But I still can’t trust her, Elice thought. She stepped in front of Adar, who set down a groaning Sakari.
“Elice!” her mother called. “Please don’t go.” For the first time in Elice’s memory, Ilyenna seemed rattled.
Elice squared herself. “You killed Tikaani. You would have killed me!”
Her mother stretched a hand toward her. “I was only trying to stop you.”
Rage swelled up inside Elice, filling her so that snow flew from her lips. “Well, you failed! I am free now. I have fulfilled your bargain!”
Ilyenna’s empty hand fell by her side. “He will betray you in the end.”
“The world is not the evil, dark place you led me to believe it was,” Elice replied, barely reining in her emotions. “And neither are its people. I have seen them—have seen their courage and goodness. If there is darkness and evil, I will face that too. But at least I won’t be alone. I will have my friends by my side.”
Ilyenna unfurled her great wings and pumped them to lift herself off the ground. She hovered, the snow forming a mold in the shape of her wings. “Well then, Daughter, I hope you are strong enough for the darkness. Because you won’t have to go searching. It will find you.”
Elice leapt across the large, interconnected puddles, a school of minnows darting away from her passing. Dozens of brilliant-yellow, low-growing flowers graced the gently rolling hills. She bent down to examine them, her fingers tracing the soft petals. Unable to resist, she picked one and held it to her nose, inhaling deep. It smelled herbal, almost medicinal, instead of sweet. But Elice didn’t care. She had never smelled a flower that wasn’t frozen. She picked two more, tucked them behind her ear, and resumed her climb up the highest hill. The mossy ground squishing up between her bare toes was much like slush, only dirtier.
“Elice, where are you going?” Adar called.
“I have to see.” Had to see the land she’d always dreamed of, the land of life and color. She finally reached the top of the hill, a warm breeze tugging her loose hair over her face. She impatiently gathered it over one shoulder and looked out over the sweeping landscape, covered with small lakes and so much color it hurt her eyes. Her heart swelled with hope. This was the life before her—full of possibilities and discoveries. And best of all, she was no longer alone.
Sakari came into view below her and looked up. The other girl’s head was bandaged, and she’d complained of a bad headache. But she had insisted they carry on. She pointed south and a little west, telling Elice, “That way to the coast and my village.” Then Sakari started off, leaning on an antler she’d found.
Elice heard Adar scrambling up the hill, and soon he stepped up beside her. “We made it,” she said as she reached out to take his hand. When he didn’t answer, she turned to look at him. He stared at the Summer Realm, his face cast in shadow, his expression troubled. Why wasn’t he happy?
He shook his head. “I was so focused on escaping, I didn’t let myself see beyond. Didn’t let myself see . . .” He turned to her, his gaze searching. “Elice, whatever happens, I want you to know I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
She laughed. “Hurt me? Adar, we’ve
left the danger behind.”
He stared at their intertwined fingers. “You’re sure this is what you want? No matter the consequences?”
She stepped closer and cradled his cheek in her hand. “After all we’ve been through, you expect me to have doubts now?”
“I just want you to be sure.”
She gave him a brilliant smile. “I chose this. You didn’t force me.” She leaned in a little, her arms spread. He embraced her, locking his arms around her as if he never wanted to let go.
With her head resting on his shoulder, she watched the snowstorm disappear—gone from one moment to the next. The sun slid behind the mountains, casting a shadow across the realm. Casting Elice in shadow. She glanced back to see it stretch on to pierce the Summer Realm like a knifepoint.
But beyond that was light. Holding Adar’s hand, she stepped into that light.
Keep reading for Winter’s Heir,
the FINAL book in the Fairy Queen’s Series.
Beneath the threatening gray sky, the wind seemed to be holding its breath, only letting out little strangled gasps every now and then. Gasps filled with the bitter tang of winter. Adar had left the Winter Queendom behind, but apparently, it wasn’t done with him yet. Cheeks stinging with cold, he wiped his dripping nose and scanned the ground for something, anything, he could use to make a fire.
“You’re never going to find anything dry enough to burn,” Sakari chided from where she and Elice lay, belly down before a small body of water. In the clear depths, fish swam back and forth, taunting Adar’s growling stomach.
He scratched at the itchy layer of mud on his exposed skin—a protection from the swarms of mosquitoes—and said, “You just worry about getting us something to eat.”
Feeling another bite at his cheek, he slapped at the mosquito. Then he turned away, pried up some moss, and started making a pile. He was going to build a fire, the smokiest fire he could, to keep these blasted mosquitoes away. And to work some warmth into his frozen hands. He could ask Elice to draw the cold away with her magic, but every time she touched him, he felt the wrongness of what he had done. What he was still doing.
“If only I had some line and hooks,” Sakari groaned.
Adar glanced over at Elice, who was staring into the water as if mesmerized by the fluid movements of the fish. Adar and Sakari were covered from head to toe in sealskins to ward off the chill, but because of her magic, the cold never touched Elice. She wore only a clannish overdress and underdress that had once been fit for the princess she was, but it was tattered now. Even her shoes were long gone, lost to the river. As he stared at her dirty bare feet, an image of Tikaani’s knowing face as he’d slipped under the freezing, rushing river flashed in his mind. That horror had compounded when Elice had dove in after him. He shivered from more than just the cold, wondering if the winter queen would ever really let them go, or if she was just biding her time before attacking them again.
“I’ve never seen so many fish, or so big,” Elice said, wonder in her voice.
“These are tiny,” Sakari huffed. “At my grandparents’ village, the fish are the size of toddlers.”
Elice seemed to consider for a moment. “You’re teasing.”
“I am not!” Sakari said with a laugh. “All summer long, the salmon charge up the river to spawn.”
Even Adar had a hard time believing that. Elice pushed her hand into the water. A moment later, fish encased in ice began to float to the surface.
Sakari blinked. “And how exactly are we going to get them?” Elice pushed to her feet and waded into the frigid water. Her dress lifted, revealing shapely ankles and legs. Adar was powerless to look away.
“Showoff,” the other girl muttered.
Elice threw a grin over her shoulder then promptly lost her balance and fell in. Dripping mud, she came sputtering back up. Adar and Sakari took one look at her and laughed. Adar promptly inhaled a lungful of mosquitoes. Choking and gagging, he spit while the girls laughed even harder. Elice started choking too. Sakari had been smart enough to cover her mouth with her shirt. Elice’s hand shot out and a wave of sharp cold slammed against Adar. The mosquitoes dropped dead, their high-pitched whining abruptly cutting off.
In the silence, Sakari let her shirt fall from her mouth and stared at Elice. “Sometimes you scare me.”
Adar was just relieved to have a reprieve from the insects’ attack. Now if only the clouds would go away and the sun would come back.
Elice grunted as she surveyed the dead insects littering the water around her, carnage that the remaining fish were happily taking advantage of. “The cold wasn’t as strong as it should have been.” She frowned and started tossing the dozen or so ice-encased fish back to Sakari.
Adar put his back to the girls and lit the moss on fire, making sure it would burn long and slow. The relief at being so close to the flames again nearly made him dizzy.
Sakari suddenly stood over him, staring at the fire. “How did you get it to burn?”
He smiled. “Tribesmen are experts with fire.”
She rolled her eyes at him then started gutting the fish.
Still dripping water and mud, Elice walked over to them. Without warning, the water exploded from her skin in a puff of dirty snow, which she shook all over Sakari and Adar.
“Hey!” Sakari protested. Plopping down beside her, Elice grinned. Sakari scooped up a handful of mud and smeared it on Elice’s cheek. “There. That will protect you from any surviving mosquitoes.” In response, Elice threw a clot of mud at Sakari, and then the three of them were throwing mud and laughing till their sides ached.
They finished cleaning the fish and roasted them over the smoky fire. It was a simple meal, but Adar had never tasted anything so good. “I swear, I’ll never eat raw meat or drink blood again.”
On the mossy ground, the three friends lay side by side, Adar and Sakari holding Elice’s hands to keep the cold at bay. Though the clouds had fled, the chill still lingered. Adar wondered if he’d ever escape it entirely as he stared up at the midnight sun. It was never fully dark this far north, with the sun circling in an off-kilter loop above them. From the other side of Elice, Sakari started snoring softly.
“Do you think Aklaq and his dogs are all right?” Elice asked quietly so as not to wake her friend.
Adar hoped so—the man had risked his life to help them escape. “He knows how to survive the queendom—better even than we do.”
“Do you think my mother will hurt him for helping me?” Her voice was barely over a whisper.
The truth was, Adar didn’t know. But what was another lie at this point? “No. I don’t think Ilyenna will hurt him.”
She didn’t relax at his words. “My magic is weaker here—almost sluggish. It frightens me to feel so powerless.”
“I felt the same way in the queendom,” Adar replied, then realized he might have said too much. He tried to stave off the urge to warn her. Tried and failed. “I’m afraid your magic will continue to grow weaker.”
She shifted to face him. “How do you know?”
“Because the farther you travel from the source of winter’s power, the harder it will be to draw from it.”
He felt her studying him and wondered if she could see the sweat on his brow. “How do you know so much?” she asked.
“Same way you knew what a tree looks like even though you’ve never seen one. Books.” Against all odds, Adar had escaped the Winter Queendom with Elice. He was near the fire again, and his belly was full. But he didn’t let himself feel the happiness, the relief. He knew it couldn’t last. Instead, dread welled up where the joy could have been. Fire and burning, how could he make her see?
“After my ship sank, I thought I would never leave the queendom alive. I didn’t think this far ahead . . . I didn’t consider the consequences. Not like I should have.”
Her hand felt for his, her palm cool against his warmth. “What happens now?” she asked.
“You come with me to my home.” There
had never been any question about that.
Elice scratched at the mosquito bites on her cheek. “Are you asking me to go with you to the Adrack? That’s dangerously close to Idara.”
Adar faced her, letting her see the earnestness in his gaze. “I’ll look after you. I swear I will.”
She bit her lip, drawing his attention to the full bottom lip that drove him crazy. “I never thought to trade one desert for another. I always wanted to go somewhere green. Somewhere like the clanlands. I have family there.”
He glanced away to hide the guilt in his eyes. “We don’t have to decide right now. First, we need to get Sakari safely to her family. We owe her at least that much. After that . . .” Adar couldn’t finish his thought.
Elice sighed and snuggled up to him, resting her head on his chest. He wrapped an arm around her, and she fell asleep almost instantly. He knew she trusted him. Completely. The wind shifted her hair so it tickled his face, but he did not move it away. Instead, he held her tighter.
For five days, Sakari, Adar, and Elice traveled across the marshy tundra. For five days Adar watched Elice. She radiated joy, the grin hardly ever slipping from her face. She exclaimed over animals she’d rarely, if ever, seen in the Winter Queendom—foxes and eagles, caribou and muskoxen, rabbits and ermine, bobcats and lemmings. When the group stopped to rest, Elice chattered on while Adar wrapped her bloody feet in strips of fabric. Sakari worked at turning a brace of rabbits she’d caught into a pair of boots to replace the ones Elice had lost to the river.
Despite the incessant mosquitoes and the cuts on her feet, Elice cheerfully rubbed Adar’s nearly healed shoulder—an injury left over from the sinking ship she’d rescued him from—and rested her cool hands on the knot on Sakari’s head. Elice kept asking them questions about the world around them until Adar really, really wanted to put those lips to another use. But he didn’t. He patiently answered every question, though he didn’t have nearly as many answers as Sakari.