by Amber Argyle
With an effort of will, Adar turned back to his mother, who watched him as if he’d just confirmed something she’d suspected.
“Fool boy,” Jezzel said from beside her. “You fell in love with your enemy.” She was nothing if not blunt.
“Doesn’t it bother you that Nagale lied to us about the princess?” Adar asked.
Nelay grunted. “She’ll be dealt with. The real question is why she lied to us.”
Adar didn’t care about the why. Those lies had cost him everything he’d never known he wanted. His gaze didn’t waver from Nelay’s. “Elice isn’t her mother. She’s the most gentle, determined girl I have ever met. I betrayed her, and she will hate me for it. But I will see that she is safe and cared for.”
His mother’s chin came up. “So you heard everything.”
“Harm her and I swear I’ll go to war with you myself.”
“Don’t threaten me!” Nelay’s wings rolled from her back with a blast of heat.
Jezzel yelped and rushed out of the room. Adar stood protectively before Elice. His mother’s heat couldn’t hurt him any more than winter hurt Elice. But it could burn this tower down. As if to warn both Adar and his mother, a green tincture in a vial on the table began to boil.
Nelay stormed toward the balcony, threw open the double doors, and stepped outside. The heat from her wings dissipated in the night sky. “You and Jezzel take the moral high ground while I do what must be done alone,” said the Summer Queen. “Well, when the world is finally at peace, we’ll see who saved it.” She spread her wings.
“I love her, Mother,” Adar called out. “I would marry her tonight if she would agree.”
Nelay froze and turned back to him, the heat from her wings distorting her face. “What would you have me do? Let this weapon sit, unused, while the War of the Queens rages on? How many more must die in the name of your love?”
“Please.” He was not above begging. Not for this. Yet he saw it would not sway his mother. “A bargain then.”
His mother’s head came up. She was a fairy, after all, and no fairy could resist a bargain. “Adar, you know better than anyone that when a mortal makes a deal with a fairy, the mortal always loses.” Even as Nelay warned him, her eyes sparked with hunger.
“I know,” Adar ground out.
“What do you want, my son?”
He tipped his head toward Elice. “Her.”
“Does she want you after what you’ve done?”
He didn’t know the answer to that.
Nelay’s expression turned calculating. “Very well. I will grant your request. You can have Elice. For three days. By the end of those three days, she must declare that she loves you—and she must mean it. If she does, she lives. If she does not, I will deliver the killing blow myself. If she discovers this bargain before it is through, I win. Do you agree?”
“And your price?” Adar asked softly.
His mother cocked her head to the side. “A life for a life.”
He felt the blood drain from his face. “My life?”
“It is the price the Balance demands.”
Adar knew his mother’s humanity had been burned from her the day she became queen. But she’d always acted out of love, even though she might not feel the emotion. Still, he’d never thought his mother would require this of him, her firstborn son.
Jezzel stepped cautiously into the room, a sheen of perspiration on her face. “Adar, she may be your mother, but she’s a Goddess of Fire first,” warned Nelay’s friend. “She won’t spare you from the price, not in a bargain.”
Adar ignored her. He’d stolen Elice’s life, and if this was the way to give it back to her, so be it. “You will allow me whatever methods I require to regain her trust?”
His mother raised an eyebrow. “As long as your methods do not put you within reach of the Winter Queen.”
“Then I agree.” He felt the bands of the bargain snap into place, sealing around him. Nothing he or anyone else did would ever let him escape.
“Fool boy,” Jezzel growled.
“Adar, the next time you intimidate my guards into disobeying me, I’ll kill them for not stopping you. Jezzel, see my son out.” Nelay soared into the sky and within seconds was out of sight.
Adar closed his eyes. “Jezzel, you have to stop her.”
“Short of killing her, how do you expect me to do that?” He winced, and Jezzel rested her hand on her enormous belly. “She’s not fully human, Adar. Not anymore. You need to remember that.”
He shook his head, hating that his mother’s friend was right. He moved to the bed and sat beside Elice, not sure he was strong enough to walk away from her now. “Let me stay.”
“After what you did, Elice won’t thank you for the company,” Jezzel reminded him.
Adar took Elice’s hand, which felt as small and fragile as a fallen dove. “She shouldn’t be alone.”
He heard Jezzel move to stand next to him. “But she is alone. She’s the enemy and our captive. That’s the very definition of alone.”
I did this to her. Adar swallowed hard. Elice needed someone. Someone like her, to help her through this. Someone who would be loyal to him. Someone who owed him her life. “Cinder.”
Jezzel’s head came up. “The queen’s dressmaker?”
He nodded. “Her mother was a clanwoman.” Cinder owed Adar her life. And he trusted her.
Jezzel slowly nodded and then headed for the door. “I’ll see she’s sent for.”
“By the fairies,” Adar said.
She hesitated at the threshold before repeating, “By the fairies.” She paused. “Adar, it’s time to go.”
“Please . . . just a moment?”
Jezzel sighed heavily and shut the door behind her.
Adar knelt beside Elice’s bed. “I will keep you safe, Elice.” Unable to resist, he leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss against the back of her hand, which felt cool even in the sweltering heat of the Idaran summer night. “I swear it on my life.”
At the observation tower, Adar waited with his arms crossed, staring blindly over the Adrack Desert. The wind picked up, shifting his wide pants against his legs and wicking the sweat from his bare chest. The heaviness of the air shocked him. Months in the Winter Queendom had left his skin dry and cracking, but now the humidity of early spring felt like a living thing, suffocating and heavy.
He had appreciated the warmth afforded by his long hair in the frozen wasteland of the Winter Queendom. But now it was hot and sticky. He lit up his head, using the summer wind to blow the ashes off before they could stick to his sweaty shoulders. He ran his hands over his now-bald head, wondering what Elice would think of the thick tattoos crossing his scalp.
Then his thoughts circled around to the price of the bargain. He or Elice would die. Fire and burning, there had to be another way.
“This was not the plan, dearest prince.”
Adar spun around, his eyes catching on the gleaming towers—gold by day, silver by moonlight. On one of the railings crouched an owl with a fairy on its back. This fairy was withered, with only a few white and black feathers clinging to her diseased skin.
“You lied to me,” Adar accused.
Nagale clacked her sharp beak at him. “I never lie.”
His hand went to the shamshir at his waist. “Twisting the truth is still a lie.”
Nagale chuckled, a sound that was anything but pleasant. “That is how the game is played. Lies mixed with truths, and manipulation mixed with betrayal.”
Adar pulled the sword from its sheath. “The princess is my age! And she’s not evil and twisted! You were supposed to see my ship safely to and from the Winter Palace, but it sank, killing everyone on board. I nearly died half a dozen times. You lied to me about everything!” He never should have trusted Nagale. He should have known everything would end up twisted. That he would lose more than he was willing to pay.
“We will all die. That’s the point,” Nagale suddenly shouted, angry and half mad. �
�But that doesn’t mean I lied.” Now her voice turned sing-song. It seemed that whatever corruption had destroyed her body had also destroyed her mind. “Do you love her?”
Adar shifted to a defensive stance. “What?”
“Do you love her?”
He took a step back, not wanting this creature to know the truth.
“Answer me honestly, prince.”
He held out his arms helplessly to his side. “I was supposed to bring her safely here. That was our bargain. That was your price for helping us save the world.”
The fairy’s yellow eyes, huge in her sunken face, regarded him coolly. “Does the princess return your love?”
Adar exhaled loudly. “If she ever did, she doesn’t anymore.”
Nagale twisted her head to look out over the desert. “Bargains,” she cackled as the owl spread its white wings. “Only the truly desperate make them. Only the truly desperate need them. And always, the desperate pay.”
As Adar watched Nagale fly away, his fist clenched around his sword so hard he could feel each ridge of the grip leaving an imprint on his hand.
“Adar?”
He spun, sword arching, and only managed to pull the swing at the last second. Cinder stumbled away from him, falling to the ground in a flutter of silks. She cursed him as only the daughter of a prostitute could. He held out a hand to her. She glared up at him, then ruefully took it.
“Idiot Idaran!” She smoothed her silk robes and flipped her long hair over her shoulder. Her locks shone silver in the moonlight. “Why was I brought here in a huge net carried by all manner of blurs that sometimes looked like birds or insects, but more often than not had teeth and scales and stingers?” Cinder shuddered, her hand over her stomach. “You know how much I hate fairies.”
Adar shoved his sword in its sheath and helped her to her feet. “Because I think you’re the only one who can help me.”
“You brought me all the way here to design some clothes for you?” She surveyed him, then waved mockingly at his bare chest. “Personally, I see no need to cover that up. I’m sure all the women of Idara would agree.”
He rolled his eyes. “Cinder, I don’t want you to make me any clothes. I brought you here to help her.”
“Help who? And how?”
Adar took hold of Cinder’s arm and started down the stairs. “Her name is Elice. I betrayed her—fire and burning, I didn’t mean to, but I did all the same. But I might just be able to save her. If I can accomplish nothing else in my life, that alone will be worth it.”
Cinder looked at him suspiciously. “Adar, have you been drinking?”
He tried to run his fingers through his hair before remembering he’d burned it all off. “I need your help.”
Cinder squared her shoulders. “You point me to your enemy, and I’ll kick their teeth in.”
Suddenly Adar felt lighter. This burden wasn’t just his anymore. And with Cinder by his side, there wasn’t much he couldn’t accomplish.
The venom slogged through Elice’s body. Her eyelids felt so heavy. Fighting the poison, she struggled to wake herself. She was conscious of the slippery sheets that had bunched between her legs as she tossed. After what seemed like forever, she managed to open her eyes. Afraid of falling asleep again, she pushed herself up, feeling ragged and sore instead of rested. Dim light streamed through the windows. It was either very early in the morning or very late at night. She gaped at her surroundings—a lavish room with curving walls of stone, a turquoise-and-gold mosaic of tiles swirling on the ceiling above her. This was far from the dank dungeon she’d expected to find herself in.
She hauled herself to the edge of the enormous bed, the lilac sheets ensnaring her legs. She finally managed to free herself and simply sat, waiting for the world to stop spinning. She was wearing a thin cotton shift that was damp and crumpled, and her hair had been washed and combed. With some disquiet, Elice wondered who had done such a thing, but she pushed the worry from her mind. She had bigger problems.
There were three doors—one, a double-glass door that seemed to lead to a balcony. She struggled to her feet and moved to the door, swaying unsteadily as she went, but it was locked fast. She looked through it at the world outside and gasped in shock. A golden city sprawled out before her, all onion domes and ochre desert for as far as she could see. To her right, a glorious palace sat proudly inside a high wall and another courtyard, where fountains shot jets toward the cerulean sky. Channels had been built on tripods, but Elice couldn’t guess the purpose for them. She could just make out people, all with dark hair and brilliantly colored robes, moving about both courtyards.
“There’s so much color,” she murmured.
Reminding herself that she had to escape, Elice spread her fingers on the windowpane and opened herself to winter, determined to break the glass and make her escape. But only the barest trickle streamed from her fingers, spreading ferns of frost across the smooth pane. She tried again, and more frost spread. Breathing hard, she yanked back her hand, staring at the imprint she’d left behind.
She closed her eyes and concentrated, pulling with everything she had. She managed to form a dagger, but it was so thin it shattered at the slightest pressure. She couldn’t have even scratched someone with it. Without winter, she was practically powerless.
Again she looked out the door. Her mother had been right. Elice had won her freedom, but it had cost her everything. Her innocence, her magic, her family, and the only true friend she’d ever known, when she’d been forced to leave Sakari behind. Elice had also lost a bond she thought might last forever. In the end, even the freedom she’d gained had been taken.
Filled with dread, she turned to face the room. With the many colors and foreign designs here, a part of her wanted nothing more than to study it, replicate it. But beautiful or not, this was her prison. She must find a way out.
Two sets of double doors carved from dark wood were framed within delicate arches that wore a fringe of lace-like stone. Elice moved to the partially open door and found a bathroom. After she had relieved herself, she drank deep from a water basin and then splashed some of the cool liquid on her face to wake herself up. There were dozens of bright-emerald bottles, which she was tempted to open.
But her dread at what awaited her propelled Elice to the third door. The water and the movement seemed to help with the grogginess, as she didn’t stagger once. She pushed on the door, which opened easily at her touch.
This was some sort of receiving room, with a round table and chairs, shelves with wonderfully fat books, and heavy-looking rugs. But all of that was barely visible through the piles of fabrics in every hue Elice had ever dreamed of. She stepped forward as if in a dream and sank her fingers into the colors. She lifted the fabrics to her face and rubbed them against her cheek. The fabric felt soft and light as a breeze.
“I’m Cinder,” a voice said.
Elice whirled around. On a balcony beyond another open door sat a woman of about thirty years. Her delicate hands made quick work with a bone needle. But it was the woman’s face that caught Elice’s attention, for it was a face that did not belong—not here. Her hair was blonde and curly, her skin pale and freckled. She had a curvier, shorter build than the tall, muscular women Elice had spied in the courtyard. And she was perhaps the most breathtakingly beautiful woman Elice had ever seen. Her eyes, the charcoal hue of storm clouds, were fixed on Elice.
Elice recognized her for what she was, because she’d seen the same traits all her life. “You’re a clanwoman.”
The woman paused, her fingers stilling. “My mother was. Unfortunately, I am Idaran.”
“Are you my jailer?”
Cinder laughed. “No.”
“My friend Sakari—is she all right?”
“I don’t know.”
Elice gave a little huff. “Is it morning or night?”
“Very early morning. But a very late night for me. I only arrived a few hours ago, and they said you should be waking soon. So I waited.” The w
oman went back to her work, picking up right where she’d left off. “I’ve been commissioned to make your clothes. You should be flattered—new clients usually have to wait a few years.”
Elice watched as the needle pierced the delicate fabric again and again. “I don’t understand why I’m here.”
“No,” Cinder sighed. “I suppose you don’t. I don’t understand it myself. Not really.” She gathered the fabric, then rose and entered the room. With the light coming in from behind her, her face was cast in shadows. “You’ve been asleep for three days. He sent me to be here when you woke up. He thought a woman who spoke your language, who looked like you, who loved other clanwomen, would be a comfort to you. It’s why I agreed to come from the Adrack.”
“He?”
Cinder cocked her head. “Don’t you know?”
Elice turned away, angry. She did know—Adar. “Why am I here instead of a dungeon?”
“You are a princess, are you not?”
“No,” Elice answered darkly. “My mother is a queen, but I am not her heir.”
“Aren’t you?” Cinder approached the table, set down whatever she was making, and dug around in the fabric until she produced a covered tray. She opened it without another word, revealing crackers, cheese, and some water. She pulled out a chair and motioned for Elice to sit.
The smell of the salty cheese hit her then, and her stomach clenched with sickness. With her hand over her mouth, Elice took a step back. Cinder quickly covered the tray. “They said you might be queasy. It will pass.”
Cinder picked up the garment she’d been working on and held the snow-white fabric to Elice, who pushed it away. She’d been surrounded by white her entire life. Undeterred, Cinder went back to work. “You will wear this when you meet with the Goddess of Summer in a few days. I didn’t have time to make it from scratch. Luckily at my shop in the city we have many garments already sewn. I simply made a few adjustments and added some flare. You’ll look like a princess, I swear it.”