A Heart of Ice

by Phoenix Briar

  “Only if you can remove the leader,” Gabriel says simply. I debate talking with them. We aren’t discussing the Inferno and Cerulean, so it helps. Our allies have also been at war, the Flora and Levosa, and also for very similar cultural differences. The Inferno and Levosa are allies but aren’t a part of each others’ wars. We trade with one another, but we do not aid each other in battle. “It is simple,” Gabriel continues, “Kill the queen bee, and the ants are helpless.”

  Fire sparks in my veins. “You are all fools,” I say simply, narrowing my eyes. They all look to me. “You’ve not the slightest idea of their battle tactics.”

  “Oh?” Kale asks, hiding a smirk and giving Gabriel a mocking glance as if he is humoring me. It only makes me angrier. “Then do tell us, Lady Scarlet. Why would that not work?”

  I sigh. “The male has his harem, but the male is not the leader of the harem.” The Levosa suffer a severe lack of males in their society, they have for generations, part of why what had begun as a tradition of having two or three wives has escalated into a harem of wives. No one knows why they aren’t producing sons, and sons are deeply cherished in their lands because of it. In any case, the Levosa are notorious for not getting along tribe-to-tribe. The males all have individual tribes set up throughout the country, and they do not tolerate other males.

  I have the attention of the men around me and continue, “Even if you kill the male, he is not the strongest, only the center point. He is the figure head, so to speak, who gathers the women to him. But the females are the strongest.”

  “But would they not be lost without their leader?” Claque offers, and I turn my head to him.

  Determined to prove my point, I reply firmly, “No. The male is not the leader, only the center. The females have their own system. They compete with one another to determine their hierarchy, for the chance to mate with their husband. The strongest women are the ones who will bed him most frequently and will be more likely to produce a son which is the equal to queenship in their world.”

  “And so if the male were removed, what then? Or even the…what do you call it—head wife?” He glances around uncertainly, and the others shrug.

  “There is no leader,” I reiterate, “Only a hierarchy. If the male is killed, the strongest female, the Matron as she is called, will resume control of the harem. She will then oversee as the other females take their roles as either fighters or protectors of the children. Even if you kill her, the woman beneath her will step up, and the woman beneath her. You have to have a force strong enough to take out all of them at once.”

  “But that would violate the Flora code of honor,” Claque argues. “They do not allow an attack on women. They would kill the patriarch, but not his females.”

  I shrug. “Killing the male will not do anything. The harem will merely relocate and assimilate with another harem, or if there is an attack, they will delegate responsibilities and fight back. It is not like here where you have a leader and subordinates. They all work together as a team. There is no single person who is more important than another.”

  Claque seems genuinely interested now, having proven myself well educated in the structure of other cultures and militaries. We begin to talk at length of military strategy and construct until at last, Petara leans over and pleads, “I beg you both! Dena and I are beside ourselves sick with this conversation!” I blush but am proud of myself, and I enjoyed my conversation. I glance to Gabriel, but he just laughs and sips his wine.

  Dinner concludes, and everyone parts from the table. Petara is the central focus of the night, and she stands with her child and mate to the side where she receives congratulations and blessings for the babe. Gabriel stands by my side and leads me around the room, introducing me to a fair number of people. I am glad for him by my side, for I do not think that I could have managed it without him.

  There are so many people, all with so many questions, all smiling at me, and yet their eyes…their eyes all hold so many different things. Some of them are scared and seeking for their future king to assure them that he has properly “civilized” this Inferno to behave, that we are not monsters. Some of them barely contain their anger and disgust, and it seeps out of them between clipped words. Some of them are genuinely curious and eager to learn, eager to know a woman and not a soldier. But after a while, I see the unspoken questions in everyone’s eyes. I can hear it in the undertone of their conversations.

  How many Crystalice have you slaughtered?

  Are you really the one who killed Prince Mit’an’av?

  Did you kill my husband?

  Son?

  Father?

  Brother?

  It’s haunting how well I can see them. There are a few who look on me with hatred and loathing, but mostly, the others are afraid. The women are gossipy and the men are resentful. In their eyes, women are not meant to be in battle to begin with. Yet here I am, everything that I am not supposed to be—sitting with them for dinner.

  It amazes me the things that I see in these people. When I was at war, everyone was just another soldier to kill, just another enemy in my way of vengeance, victory. But here, I can see who they were. That one was the youngest of five brothers who had wanted to be a scholar. That one had only been married two months before leaving to fight for his country, his widowed bride just beginning to show. The one there was the sole provider for his two brothers and sister. That one was the father of six. I can see them all. I can see who they were, their names, their lives, not just another body thrown into the flames.

  When finally the formalities end and a few begin to dance while others socialize, I excuse myself in a rush, feeling pain squeeze my chest as I linger out into the hall. I walk a good ways away from the door and finally sink to my knees, taking off my gloves and muffling my sounds as I cry softly, tears rolling down my face.

  “Scarlet?” a thrum of a voice asks, and I look up to see Ckai’ten in his formal uniform looming over me. He gives a small smile and kneels down in front of me, picking up my chin and gently brushing away at the tears. I smile and close my eyes as he does so, sighing softly.

  “The people in there…many of them…they have lost someone they love to the war…all my life…the Crystalice were just monsters, enemies, another obstacle.” I start to cry a bit harder, shaking my head, looking up at him. “But they are far from!” I cry past my tears as he tries to hush me. “They had families, friends, children….and I-I took them!”

  I start crying harder and Ckai’ten just sighs and shakes his head at me, wrapping his arms around my shoulders and waiting for me to be quiet. I sniffle and brush back a hair in my face, finally calming down after a moment. I lean my head against his shoulder and sigh as I sit there.

  He chuckles at me and asks, “Feeling better?”

  “Yes, thank you.” I sit up and sigh, looking over at him with a small smile. “This is far too formal for my tastes.”

  He gives a sad little smile and says, “Yes, well…Has Gabriel been doing better?”

  I shrug, laying my chin on my knees. “I have barely spoken with him the past few months. Petara has been preparing me for tonight.”

  Ckai’ten chuckles and stands up, taking my hands and pulling me with him. “Then you had best head back.” He sighs and kisses my brow, looking down at me with a gentle expression. “War is never kind, Scarlet. It haunts the soul and torments the dreams. Perhaps…it is just as well…”

  Chapter Thirty One

  Gabriel

  Dancing is by far my least favorite activity of these events. I hoped to be able to finagle my way out of such by walking Cara around and introducing her to the attending guests, but when I turn to offer my arm, she is suddenly gone. A glance to Petara and Dena reveals nothing. They have their attention on the infant lord in his mother’s arms now that supper is completed. I sigh, turning to scan the room, but I can find no sign of her. With her red hair and vibrant dress, I had not expected her to be such a difficult target to find. But with the shuffling
of guests as everyone stands and escorts their mates out to the ballroom, she is either hiding or no longer in the room.

  “My lord,” purrs a silky voice, and my ire is almost at once struck. Smiling tightly and with little patience at the moment, I turn to observe Avene rise from her bow. She smiles warmly at me, beaming really. “I had hoped, my lord, that you would not be too encumbered by your charge to enjoy your evening with a dance.” Encumbered? Hardly. And I have no desire to dance at the moment, not when I haven’t a clue as to where Cara has gone.

  But I give a politician’s smile and bow slightly at the waist. “You are dear for being so concerned on my behalf, lady, but I am afraid that it is my very charge who calls for my attention at present. It is my duty to present her to the guests this evening.”

  Her smile twitches but only seems to widen. “I see. Of course, highness. Pray tell, where has the Inferno gone to?”

  Something burns in my chest at her choice of words, and I wonder as to why. Many refer to Scarlet as the Inferno—since there only is ever one present to speak of—but something in the tone of her words bothers me to the point of correcting her: “Lady Scarlet, if you please,” I say mildly, “and that is my concern as well. Excuse me, lady.” I leave her there, turning and leaving the dining hall.

  “Milord,” a guard calls, and I look to him. “If you are seeking the Inferno lady, she has gone down the east hall.”

  I incline my head to the man and then start down the hall. The first sight to my eyes, which releases a sigh from my chest, is that of fire-red hair in curled ringlets and of a beautiful, dark dress. My second sight, however, is of a tall half-breed before Cara, holding her delicate hands. He pulls away from her, leaving his kiss on her brow. I clench my hands.

  “Cara,” I call, stalking down the hall towards them. Ckai’ten releases her, and she looks up at him with an apologetic smile before sighing and looking back to me when I approach. “Is everything all right?”

  “Yes, Gabriel,” she sighs with exasperation. “Ckai’ten heard me crying and wanted to make certain I was well.”

  “Why were you crying?” I ask, eyes boring into hers.

  She opens her mouth but then shuts it and glares. “It is of no matter. I have no desire to explain again.”

  We had seen little of each other in the past months, despite now sleeping with only a wall between us. Still, I didn’t expected such venom in her words, and I realize that she is trying to shut me out. I step closer to her, reaching out and cupping her chin with my hand. I bow my head a bit towards hers and murmur soft, “Why are you throwing up walls, Cara? What have you to fear from me?”

  She glares up at me for a long moment, her teeth clenched. “I would like to go back now.”

  I look to Ckai’ten, giving a single nod. “My gratitude for your protection.” Then, I place my hand at the small of her back and guide her back towards the ball room. “Now would you like to tell me what was bothering you?” I ask as we stop before entering the room, turning her to me and trying to meet her gaze.

  She sighs, refusing to let me see her eyes. “The people who I killed in war, Gabriel…they were not only soldiers but people…someone loved them.”

  Now I am the one to sigh, and I place my hand on the back of her head, kissing her brow as if to erase the previous kiss. “Yes, Cara, and that is the way of war. You give your enemy a face but not a heart, not a past, not a family. You give yourself a goal and do not look around it…that is the way of war.” I pick up her face then and smile down at her as she looks up at me. “Come now, Cara. Enjoy the night.”

  When finally I lead Cara back inside the ballroom, I try to do so with as little attention as possible. But bringing Cara into the room is much like introducing a lion to a pack of caribou and expecting them to get along.

  Many people are dancing now, so thankfully, there is a bit of distraction there, but I can hear the quiet whispers and see the oppressive glances. I want to glare at them, tell them to leave her alone. Cara shrinks against me, trying hard to behave and not act like a tigress. Her nature is to hold her head high and meet the eyes of those around her, to challenge them. But she is trying very hard to fit in and behave, and I can tell that it is wearing on her soul.

  I lean over and whisper in her ear, “Dance with me, Cara.”

  She looks up at me in mild alarm and shakes her head, and when I tug her into the open floor, she digs in her heels and glares at me. “I will not dance.” I stay where I am, watching her, and eventually, her features soften and she says quietly, “I have not danced with another since my Dai’lyn died…”

  I sigh, shaking my head. “Did Dena not teach you?”

  “She did…” Cara answers, looking uneasily out at the dancers. “But this is not what I would call dancing.”

  “Then, if it is not dancing, what problem remains?” I ask, and tug her onto the floor before she can protest any more. She glares at me for a long while, that spiteful little look that taunts me to laughter. I try to hide my smile as I lead her in the first dance, but when she is refraining from casting death looks my way, she makes faces at me when she thinks that others cannot see, trying to get a rise out of me. Finally, I laugh as she twirls back to me, and I hold her a moment longer than necessary and say, “Careful, Cara, or I will indulge you in your game.”

  She just laughs, smiling at me; the sound is like bells, but loud, uneven—beautiful. I smile at her. Petara and Dena can paint her up, teach her to walk like a wolf and howl like a wolf, to blend in with the snow. But Cara is a tiger, her stripes bold and brazen and her personality strong, her character solid. I hope that she never loses that woman inside of her—that fire.

  After a while, Cara excuses herself for some air. She has a hard time being surrounded by all of these people, their hateful and intrusive glances, like a candle surrounded by ice. Some just want to learn; others would rather kill her. I meet a few gazes from the men, warning them, staring them down until they back off. Women can be vicious, but I trust them enough not to attack her openly tonight. But some of the men can be dangerous, and I know which ones those would be.

  With Cara gone, I go to my sister, Dena, and speak with her and Claque for a long while. Dena is pleased that Cara is doing well so far, and she beams with delight. Cara is a fair dancer, but I can feel the tigress beneath her skin, aching for something fast, something that flickers and moved like the flames, something that would set her heart racing. I wonder in that brief moment what it would be like to dance such a dance with her.

  Chapter Thirty Two

  Scarlet

  The music fades behind me like a silent dream. No one is out in the garden, but lanterns are lit low and hanging throughout, casting an almost warm glow upon the dark space. I didn’t think anything could grow in this place, but it does. Still, most of the garden consists of ice statues and plants I have never seen before. There’s a tall, fat tree with whip-like vines hanging in a glossy curtain all around it. But instead of leaves, tiny crystals clatter and chime down the little vines, like glass ornaments.

  I pause by the tree, brushing the vines with my gloved hand just to hear the beautiful sound of them all chiming together. A soft smile touches my face, and I look back to the brilliantly lit ballroom. I can see Gabriel, although he cannot possibly see me out here in the dark. He stands with Dena and Claque, his back to me. I smile a bit, watching him. I don’t have much time. If I take too long, he’ll come looking for me. He’ll come looking for me anyways, and I need as much of a head start as possible. But…I like watching him there, his smile and easy stance. He looks handsome in his formal attire, elegant. And I almost want to go back in and dance just one more time with him.

  But I can’t. It’s time to go.

  I drag in a breath and set my eyes on the far wall with determination. In the shadows, I pull off my gloves, pull the pin out of my hair. My hands are shaking, trembling. Damnit. Why won’t they hold still! There’s no need to be afraid. But I am beginning to wonder if it is fe
ar…I shove my thoughts aside and yank off my boots, throwing them on the ground. I can’t think. No regrets. I have to go home. I have to. This is my only chance. I won’t get another opportunity like this.

  “Scarlet.” A woman calls my name, a voice I do not know. I gasp and turn my head to catch the sound. But no one is there. I Shift just a bit so that my tigress’ eyes can see more clearly than I. But no one is there. Sighing, I turn back around and pull off my necklace. I shake my head and reach behind me to unlace my dress.

  There is a sound. My fingers stop on the laces, as though frozen. Laughter. Gabriel’s laughter pours out of the open doors, and I pause and turn my head to listen. I drop my hands, and they fall limply to my sides. He’s there in the ballroom, and I can see his face. Claque is glowering and Dena is blushing, and everyone is staring rudely at the three of them. I smile, just a bit, and I look down at my hands. I close my eyes and clench my hands, then loosen them again.

  I can’t stay…I can’t…Blinking up at the night sky, tears fill my eyes and run down my face. I close my eyes. I have to go…I don’t belong here…Inferno is home…this place will never be home…I have to go…I cannot stay here…with him…

  My breath leaves me in a rush, and I kneel, picking up the cream, silk glove. I stare at it for a long while, and then I sigh and pull it back on. Suddenly, something slams into my head. Blunt, cold. Metal. It hits me straight in the temple, and my whole world spins. The dark gardens fade to black, and I can feel myself falling.

  Chapter Thirty Three

  Gabriel

  “Gabriel.”

  A woman calls my name, but I do not recognize the voice. I turn my head, but no one heads towards me or is looking in my direction. I look back to Dena and Claque, and my sister asks, “Something the matter?”