Fairy Queens: Books 5-7

by Amber Argyle

  That night, the men built huge bonfires and smaller cooking fires. The women brought out their kettles and filled them with fish, oysters, herbs, fresh vegetables, and broth. Bubbling happily over the fires, the stew permeated the air with a mouthwatering aroma.

  While they waited, Sakari braided Elice’s hair and added an iridescent black feather with a strand of beads that tinkled beside her ear. Sakari even convinced her grandmother to lend Elice a white deerskin dress and matching boots. Elice felt beautiful and alive, like the fire crackling in front of them. She had never felt so happy, so accepted, as she did in that moment. The urge to thank this village swelled within her. She moved away from the firelight, to a small rise hidden from sight by the forest. And there she created her own tree, a replica of the one she’d made for Sakari.

  When Elice returned to the dancing, the old woman brought bowls of soup to her and Sakari. Elice blew the steam from it until it was cool enough to eat. The myriad of flavors were completely unexpected, the heat blending them and sharpening them in ways she wouldn’t have imagined.

  Men brought out drums and beat a steady rhythm. Some of the village girls started to dance. Elice had just lined up for her third bowl of soup when Sakari grabbed her arm and hauled her toward the dancers. Elice hesitated before joining in. The beads tinkled in her ear, the feather brushing against her face. The food warmed her belly, and her feet seemed to move in rhythm to her heart. She looked around and caught Adar’s gaze. She motioned for him to join her, but he shook his head. Elice danced over to him and tried again. Instead, he took her hand and led her away from the firelight.

  “Where are we going?” she asked, breathless from exertion.

  “I wanted to show you something.”

  She followed him into the soft dusk of a northern summer night, dark enough to dim the colors but still light enough to see clearly. He paused. Elice glanced around but saw only trees and bushes and ferns. She turned back to him expectantly.

  Adar pulled something out of his pocket and held it out to her. “I wanted to say thank you.” She stared at the leather cord with a turquoise spiral at the center. “I traded my caribou clothes for it. We won’t need them anymore.”

  From the twilight sky, Elice could make out the gold strands throughout the stone, running through it like lightning across the sunlight sky.

  “If you don’t like it, I could probably get you something else,” Adar finally said.

  She started out of her examination. “I was beginning to think you were angry with me.”

  “Never.” He gave her a shy smile. “The colors—it reminded me of you.” He held out the stone and she took it, noticing it still held the warmth from his body. It nestled on her chest beside the flower her grandfather had given her.

  “I know it’s not the jewels you are used to, but . . .”

  He didn’t get a chance to finish, because Elice leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. She pulled back almost as quickly, startled that she’d kissed him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

  Adar stared at her, his face conflicted. “Elly . . .”

  She bit the inside of her cheek. “What is it?”

  He kicked angrily at the ground. “I’m not worthy of you.”

  She laughed. “Because you’re not a prince?” He winced. “Well, I’m not a princess, not anymore. For the first time in my life, I’m just Elice.”

  He pressed his forehead to hers and cupped her cheek, his thumb stroking little lines of fire that spread just under her skin. He made no move to kiss her again, though she could tell he wanted to. Why was he being so reluctant?

  Wetting her lips, she took a tiny step forward so her body was flush against Adar’s. She could feel the hardness of his chest, the strength that seemed to pulse from deep inside him. She reached out to run her fingers along his scruffy jawline and then up toward his hair.

  He caught her hand and held it against him. “Elly, you’ll regret this tomorrow.”

  She pressed kisses to the places her fingers had touched, the stubble rough under her sensitive lips. “No. I won’t. But you might if you don’t kiss me back.”

  With a groan, Adar slid his fingers through her hair. Then he cupped the back of her head and pulled her face to his. His mouth moved over hers slowly, gently. It was the first time Elice had ever kissed a man, but she learned quickly. And when the kiss deepened, she was ready, her mouth opening to his tongue. She’d never felt so warm, the heat building up inside of her like a delicious burn.

  Then he halted abruptly and tucked her head under his chin. “Elly.” His voice was rough and low, and she could feel him straining to control himself.

  “I don’t want to stop,” she said breathlessly.

  “No. Just no.” Adar kissed her forehead before stepping back. The cool air shivered between them.

  Elice wrapped her arms around herself. “Why are you rejecting me?”

  “I love you, Elly,” he said softly. “Fire and burning, I do. That’s why I’m not going to take advantage of you now. I’m not going to let you do something I know you’ll regret later.”

  Her mouth parted in disbelief. “You love me?”

  He slowly nodded. “If you still want me tomorrow, I’m all yours.” He held out his hand to her. She took it, as she had done a hundred times before. His hand fit perfectly inside her own.

  “I can’t imagine a world where I don’t want you every single day, Adar.”

  He winced—not the reaction she’d expected. He led her back to the circle of firelight. Sakari shot them a knowing glance that made Elice blush and cover her mouth with her hand, wondering if people could tell by the tender look of her lips that Adar had just kissed her senseless.

  Elice stared up at him, but his gaze was fixed on something on the other side of the fire, his expression dark. “What’s wrong?” she asked as she followed his line of sight.

  He stepped in front of her, blocking her view. “Nothing. Why don’t you go dance with Sakari again. I want to get more soup.”

  She noted the stiff set of his shoulders, but his expression pled for her to trust him. And she did. “I’ll see you soon?” But he was already turning away and didn’t seem to hear her question.

  All around Elice were dozens of smiling faces. Some of the village girls took hold of her hands and spun round and round the bonfire, giggling and laughing. The feather and beads in Elice’s hair twirled, dozens of dazzling colors she could just make out from the corners of her eyes.

  The music wove around them, intoxicating, filling the hollow spaces where only silence had been. Elice drew it into her—the songs, the energy of the crowd, the laughter of the other girls, the way the dark trees framed the star-strewn sky. And she realized she need never go back—never live through another winter of darkness. Never ache with the sound of silence.

  She longed to touch Adar, to share with him the dance she’d learned. She managed to slip away from the other girls to search for him. Curving through the crowd, she sought out his familiar face. She caught sight of his dark head disappearing into the forest and sped after him. She crossed into the trees and stepped over a mossy log. The ground was spongy and damp, and wet leaves brushed across her face. “Adar?” she called.

  No response, but Elice caught a flash of his pale shirt. She lifted her dress and rushed after him, leaving behind the blaring music and the light of the fire. The farther she walked, the deeper and darker the forest became. Water from the trees dripped onto her, great plunking drops that shivered down her scalp and seeped through her clothing.

  She reached the edge of the clearing, the perpetual twilight lighting up what lay before her. Adar stood in the clearing, his back to her. A bright smile stole over Elice’s face and then faded. He was whispering to . . . nothing? She stepped closer. And then she saw it. A fairy with spider wings, and a stack of eyes atop her head.

  “I don’t answer to you,” Adar said belligerently. The fairy murmured, too softly for Elice to hear. “Just give me
a little more time,” Adar snapped.

  Elice took another step forward and could finally make out the fairy’s words. “Time for what, princeling? The girl is already ours.” The spider fairy’s voice sounded oddly sticky. When Adar didn’t answer, the fairy sneered, “If you refuse to answer to me, you will answer to her.”

  “Do you really want to test me, Tix?” Adar said. A bright flame hovered over his hand. Elice was unable to stop a gasp from leaving her lips. Adar jerked around, harsh shadows cast over his face by the firelight.

  Suddenly, that sticky voice was coming from over Elice’s shoulder. “Oh, she smells like winter.” Elice craned her head back and saw a spindly spider the size of her palm on her shoulder blade. She shrieked and tried to brush it off. But the spider laughed and skittered up her head, clinging onto her hair.

  “Yesssss, ice and snow and the sea. You did indeed find her, princeling.”

  A blast of flame shot from Adar’s hand, knocking the spider off Elice’s head. In an instant, the spider fairy lit up.

  She laughed, her legs cavorting in her death throes. “You’ll pay for that,” she said just before she died.

  Gasping in a breath that tasted of burnt hair, Elice gaped at Adar. All the times he’d asked after the princess, all the times he’d tried to convince Elice to leave the queendom. The way he always kept his hair pulled tightly back or covered by a ridiculous hat, as if to hide the tattoos the Idarans wore on their scalps. She thought of how sullen and withdrawn he’d become of late. “You’re not a tribesman. You’re an Idaran.”

  Adar pressed his mouth shut and used his hand to snuff out the flame. “Elly, please, let me explain.”

  “You’re the Summer Queen’s son. No one else could have power over fire.”

  He held out his hand imploringly. “I promise this isn’t what it looks like.”

  Winter raged into Elice, snow sparking from her fingertips. “You lured me away from the safety of the queendom!” He winced, but didn’t deny it. Frost spread around the ferns at Elice’s feet, looking like delicate lace. As she stepped back, the leaves shattered with a tinkling sound. “Why?” Her voice shook under the weight of despair. All the stories, all the warnings her mother had ever given her pounded in her head. “Do you think to use me to get back at my mother?”

  Adar glanced at the frost spreading around him and climbing up the trees until the whole clearing was encased in hoarfrost. “Fire and burning, Elice, I didn’t want you to find out like this.”

  “You lied to me. All along, you’ve lied to me.” Furious tears streamed down her cheeks.

  “I tried to talk you out of coming with me,” he finally admitted, his gaze locked on hers. “But now”—he shrugged helplessly—“it’s too late.”

  A little more sluggishly than usual, an ice spear formed in one of Elice’s hands, a dart in the other. “Too late for what?”

  “Elly, no one is going to hurt you.”

  He reached toward her with the same hand that had held the flames. She dropped into a fighter’s stance—the stance her father had taught her.

  Adar froze. “Don’t.”

  She lunged, flinging her ice dart at him. A wave of something hit her dart, melting it so it only splashed his clothing. He hadn’t even moved. “Elice, please, we don’t have to do this!”

  She launched her ice spear at him. “Melt that!”

  He threw a ball of fire that collided with her spear. Hissing steam pushed toward him, while glittering frost shifted back to her. “All I’ve ever wanted to do is end the war between our families,” Adar declared. “Bringing you here will accomplish that.”

  Elice formed another spear and launched herself at him. He threw a ball of fire. It slammed into her shield and melted it down to the handle. She threw it at him, satisfied when it grazed his cheek, drawing a line of blood. She drove her spear at him, but it hit a shield of heat and melted to a stub. This too she tossed at Adar. She feinted a jab at his right side before swinging her fist against his injured shoulder. He twisted, taking the blow to his back, and dropped. He aimed a sweeping kick at her ankles. Elice jumped, kicking at his head. His hand snaked out, grabbed her foot, and jerked her forward.

  She landed hard and tried to scramble to her feet. But Adar was quick. He landed on top of her, pinning her two hands with just one of his. “You said you practically grew up in a library!” she shrieked at him.

  He winced again. “I also said I was a warrior. The priestesses trained me in combat.”

  The cold raged from Elice’s skin. Adar’s mouth tightened, and she felt heat waves radiating from him to negate her cold.

  “Fire and burning, Elly, just listen to me!”

  She squirmed, hating the feel of his body on top of hers, his heat pressing down on her. “You’ve done nothing but lie to me! Why would I believe anything you say now?”

  He let out a long, exasperated breath. “Think! I could have killed you a hundred times. I could have called for my mother the moment we left the Winter Queendom. But I didn’t.”

  Elice struggled against him, but his grip felt like iron. “I don’t believe you.”

  “Doesn’t matter.” He clenched his jaw. “It’s better if she doesn’t know I care about you. She won’t trust me if she thinks my reasoning is compromised. But I promise, no one is going to hurt you.”

  “And my mother?” Elice choked.

  Adar’s expression hardened. “If she cooperates, nothing will happen to her, either.”

  Before Elice could respond, she became aware of a rushing sound, rhythmic and loud. She knew that sound, because it had filled her with both longing and dread her entire life. The sound of enormous wings. She struggled hard, fear choking her. Because now that sound meant death. For her entire life she’d known the Summer Queen would kill her if she ever got the chance. “Adar, please . . .”

  “Pretend you hate me.” His expression went unreadable as he looked up to greet his mother. But suddenly a shadow moved behind him, and he collapsed on top of Elice with a moan.

  A hand hauled him back, revealing Sakari’s shadowed face. She held a large branch in her fist. “Run!” she commanded.

  Elice sprang to her feet. Giving into blind fear, she crashed through the meadow and stumbled through the shadows, Sakari right beside her. They had almost reached the trees when vines shot out and snatched their legs. Both young women hit the ground hard. Momentarily stunned, Elice glanced up to see a fairy grinning as more vines tightened around Elice and Sakari. The sound of wings had grown louder now, nearly right on top of them.

  Drawing deep from winter, Elice sent out a blast of cold that froze the whole clearing in an instant. The fairy’s face contorted in a rictus of horror. The vines holding Elice turned brittle and broke as she struggled to free herself. She hauled Sakari to her feet and braced herself to run, but a wall of flames erupted before them. Elice staggered back, squinting at the writhing fire. All around her, the frost melted, leaving everything limp and dead.

  Adar had done this. He had stopped her. “It’s too late,” she heard him say.

  Fairies converged on Elice. More vines shot out, wrapping her so tight they actually lifted her off the ground, her arms and legs spread out. A moment later, a flash of orange-and-gold fire shot across the horizon, growing bigger and brighter by the moment.

  Elice watched in horror as the Summer Queen flared her fiery wings and dropped to the ground in a crouch. She looked up, her expression as blank as her son’s. Like Adar, Nelay had dark features and a cunning glint to her eyes.

  “Mother,” he said. “Meet Elice, daughter of winter.”

  The Summer Queen rose to her feet, her gaze never leaving Elice. “She has her mother’s eyes.” She nodded to the fairies controlling the vines. “You have done well. You shall be rewarded.”

  Calling the full fury of winter to her, Elice struggled to break free. But a simple gesture from Nelay reduced winter to a trickle. “Winter has no place here. Not now.” She drew a curving sword from
a cross baldric on her back, then stalked forward. The sword’s sapphires and rubies glinted along the flat side of the blade.

  Elice felt a sob building in her throat. She was going to die. But the queen paused before Sakari. “Who is this?”

  Adar stepped up beside Sakari. “She helped us escape the queendom. I wouldn’t have survived without her.”

  Nelay lifted her curving sword and brought it down in a rush of silver. Elice screamed. But Nelay had only cut the vine holding Sakari’s wrist. With quick chops, the Summer Queen freed the girl’s other hand and her feet.

  “Be gone,” Nelay told Sakari. “And when Ilyenna comes, tell her we have her daughter. I will meet with her in the usual place to discuss her surrender.”

  Sakari shot a questioning look at Elice, who knew she would fight if Elice asked her to. “Go.” Elice choked on a sob, not sure what to say to the friend she would probably never see again.

  Sakari turned furious eyes to Adar and spit on him. The moisture bubbled and hissed on his skin, but he made no move to retaliate. Sakari turned on her heel and hurried away.

  “Make sure she doesn’t return,” Nelay said, and Tix clicked her fangs at something out of sight.

  Nelay shifted her unfeeling gaze back to Elice. “If you stake out a lamb on a hill, the wolves will come.” The Summer Queen spoke to another fairy that hovered at her shoulder, its black scales shining in the moonlight. “Render her harmless.”

  The fairy shot forward and sank its fangs into Elice’s shoulder. She recoiled at the bite’s sting, then gasped at the fire burning through her veins.

  Nelay cut her free, and Elice staggered as her legs again took her weight. Her blood felt thick and sluggish. Her knees buckled and she sank to the ground. With the last of her strength, she ripped the necklace from her throat and threw it at Adar, feeling a moment of satisfaction when he flinched. Then Elice’s head was too heavy to hold up. She collapsed back, barely managing to keep her glare fixed on Adar.