A Heart of Ice

by Phoenix Briar

  “Gabriel.”

  She calls more persistently this time, and I ask my companions, “Did you hear that?” as I turn my head and search the crowd again. Finally, I see her. She is standing by the open double doors that lead out to the gardens where Cara left just a moment earlier. She is looking straight at me, although no one seems to notice her.

  She’s not like any woman I have ever met before, dressed in a long, straight gown of white with long sleeves and a skirt that drops to the floor. Her hair is a solid black, spilling in thick curls down her shoulders and back, her eyes a bright, blazing blue. Holding my gaze, she says to me, “Gabriel, hurry! Please!”

  Dena tries to get my attention, but I had not heard what she said. “Excuse me, please, just a moment,” I say quickly, shuffling my way through the crowd. I hear Lady Avene call me, trying to get my attention, but I do not heed her, heading out into the gardens.

  The woman with the white dress stands a bit of a ways down the cobblestone pathway in the light snowfall. She is waiting, watching me insistently. “Gabriel, this way.”

  She hurries off again, fast, and I follow her through the gardens. Suddenly, she is gone; I just blinked, but where she had been…there is nothing now. Just as I stop and begin looking around for her, I hear a strangled sound, a muffled scream. Distracted, I move towards the sound, not sure of what it is. A dark figure looms over another on the ground, and I open my mouth to call attention to what I assume is two youths carried away, when the one beneath him shifts a bit from him and screams, and in the white glow of the moonlight, I can see her crimson hair spilled out on the ground.

  My heart stops beating before it slams into my chest, and I take off running the distance from me to them. I snatch the man by his shirt collar and throw him off of Cara. He lands on his back a foot away, and I draw my dagger, slamming him back down to the ground when he tries to get up. I put the dagger to his throat, watching him with furious eyes. “Give me one reason why I should not kill you this moment!” I roar, and the man looks up at me with wide, fearful eyes.

  “P-Please, my lord! I was j-just following orders!” he stammers, and I shift back a bit, although my knife never leaves his throat. He is one of my guards, a handsome man who enjoys his time with courtly ladies.

  “What do you mean ‘orders’?” I snarl, giving him a little shake. “Whose orders!”

  “L-Lady Avene!” he cries, flinching back. “S-She paid me fifty gold pieces! T-Told me that she d-didn’t care how I k-killed her…just that I got it done…said I was saving you trouble…d-doing you a favor…s-serving my c-c-country!” Perhaps it is fear, perhaps it is just a revelation of his own atrocity, but he seems to realize the gravity of what he tried to do.

  I thrust him from me and glower down at him. “Do not move or there will be no mercy. You will be killed.” The man doesn’t move an inch, and I turn back to the woman on the ground. Cara has her hand on her stomach, coughing a bit, trying to sit up past how badly she’s trembling. Tears soak her face, and her hair is damp and covered in dirt. The man had ripped her bodice, her skirts pushed up to her thighs. She coughs again as I move towards her, feeling sick, and she gives a soft cry of alarm, shrinking back from me. A puff of fire bursts from her chest, warning me away. My heart twists in my chest, and my stomach rolls and lurches.

  I whisper, “Cara…Cara, it’s alright…I am here…” She looks up at me, realizing who I am, and I take her into my arms as she begins sobbing, making soft, pained sounds. Her head is bleeding from where it looks like the soldier had knocked her to the ground, her lip busted from a hit.

  “G-Gabriel…” she whispers, claiming my attention to her stomach where her hand lays over a wound, blood bubbling out. I can’t breathe, can’t move. And then, I snatch her up and start running.

  I care little for the guard. I care only for the woman in my arms, trying to breathe past the pain, hiccupping her breaths, holding her stomach. I storm into the ballroom, and it takes only a heartbeat for people to realize what had happened. A woman screams. Cara is cradled in my arms, tucked against my chest, her dress torn, her waist and hands covered in blood.

  I am ready for a kill and everyone knows it. I look to my sister and her Teir and growl, “Arrest Lady Avene.” Gasps go up around the room, and everyone parts to reveal an astonished Avene. Claque gives a grave nod and moves towards her with another guard.

  “W-What!” she cries, looking to me with panicked eyes. “I-I have done nothing!” she screams out in alarm as I slowly stalk towards her, Cara in my arms, daring her to deny the evidence in front of her.

  I glare down at her, growling at her, “The man who almost raped and murdered Lady Scarlet says otherwise.”

  “B-But, he is lying!” Avene implores, staring up at me with big, innocent eyes.

  My eyes narrow. “We shall see, madam. Starting with if you are missing fifty gold pieces from your mother’s accounts.”

  Avene’s pale complexion turns sallow, noticeably so, and she stammers for a moment before bursting into tears and crying out, “I was only trying to protect you, my lord! I knew that filthy, Inferno witch would try to seduce you or kill you! I was trying to protect my prince! Can you not see, my lord?” she pleads, reaching to tug on my sleeve. I snatch my sleeve back from her.

  “G-Gabriel…” Cara chokes, breathing hard, clenching her eyes past the pain. She is trying to get my attention. I am wasting time.

  “Arrest her,” I growl, turning from Avene and stalking out of the room, no one getting closer than three feet as Claque and his soldier bind her wrists.

  The woman struggles, shrieking at my back. “Turn back to me, Gabriel! Do not turn your back to me! I could have been everything! I could have been queen! Look at me!” she shrieks. “Scarlet of Inferno is nothing but a fire-borne demoness whore! She needs to be killed! This country needs to be rid of her!”

  I do not turn back. I stalk up the stairs and to my own suite, the guards startled at the sight of Cara in my arms. “Stay at the door,” I snarl, throwing the doors open with a slam of my shoulder and going into Cara’s room just as Heather and the healer come running in. I lay Cara down on the bed, and Heather pushes me out of the way, her and another healer quickly analyzing the damage. I stand back as they look over her, taking off the dress to show the wound on her stomach. The healer starts working, mending the inside before working her way out, tending the wound, sewing it shut.

  Heather sighs and looks over at me. “She wa’ lucky, highness. Tha blade wa’ no long ta bagin wit’, an’ tha corset took mos’ o’ tha blow. Eh was meant ta stop ar, no ta kill ar. Be glad ya attacker wa’ a lusty one, or she may a’ready ba deed.”

  Cara lingers in and out of consciousness while healers tend her, a mix of Magik and herbs healing the wound. The shredded muscles will take time to heal, and she will need to be careful not to tear the wound again, but Heather assures me that the woman will live. Petara and Dena both came by to see her. The night is ruined, to say the least, but Petara seems more concerned for Scarlet than for a garish party. They leave eventually. Claque was forced to carry Dena back to the room, the woman having crumpled in sobs and trembling in fear for Scarlet. None of us had expected such a thing in our own home. Our word is absolute. This event has only gone to show how our control is weakening.

  For many hours after the room had fallen silent, I linger in the room, sitting in the darkness. They try to send Cara to sleep, but she will not let them, and so I step out while they change the bedding and clean her of blood. They dress her in a chemise and dressing gown before I am called back in, and I take post at her side.

  “I…” Cara says after a long while of silence. “…am really…getting sick…of being in bed.” She won’t let them sedate her. She is afraid to close her eyes, and she breathes steadily past the pain.

  I take her hand and kiss the back of it. “I am not surprised. How are you feeling?” I ask softly.

  Cara just smiles and answers, “Foolish question…” She hisses as
another wave of pain hits her, clenching her eyes, then looking back at me. “I am alive…it hurts, but…I will survive.” I just sigh and shake my head at her, looking over the stitches Heather sewed on her forehead where she had been knocked almost unconscious with the hilt of the soldier’s dagger.

  “What happened, Cara?” I ask softly, knowing that her head is hurting.

  Cara shakes her head, wanting to sit up, but Heather forbids her to. So she lays on the bed, turning her head to face me. She suddenly looks frightened, and I push back her hair, tucking it behind her ear. She makes a soft sound in her throat, and I realize that she is trying to hold back tears. “I just went for…fresh air…so I walked around…he came out of nowhere…hit…my head…and I felt the metal in my stomach…it was so cold…I could hardly breathe.” The first few tears slide down, and she hiccups a bit, then flinches from the pain in her stomach. “He knocked me to the ground…he started tearing at my clothes.” She starts crying, covering her face with her hands.

  I look over at the others and gesture to the door that Claque and Petara stand by. My sister nods and leaves, looking ashen and worn. Claque, however, pauses to speak quietly with me about Avene. She is being held until both she and the guard can be questioned, although she practically gave herself away shouting at me the way she did. Either way, Claque assures me that this is not going to end well. Avene is a high-borne lady, and although she is protected from torture or execution…there is no way for this to end well. Not to mention that many people will sympathize with her desire to be rid of the Inferno. I can already see the debates between my father and myself fueling…but such an atrocity and outright treason cannot be ignored. I will not let politics dictate that justice forgo punishment for the woman.

  Once they are all gone, I sigh and shake my head, gently stroking Cara’s cheek while she cries softly. “I’m sorry, Gabriel…” she whispers through tears. “I’m so sorry…”

  I frown, turning her face to look at mine. “You have nothing to be sorry for, Cara. I am ashamed that this has happened in my own palace. This is supposed to be a place of safety, refuge.” I lean my head down and kiss her trembling lips softly. She makes a soft, quiet sound, but does not protest, and she sighs softly when I pull away, looking up at me with tired, terrified eyes.

  “Sleep, Cara…” I stand, blowing out the candle on the nightstand. I am furious—with myself, Avene, my own guards, everything. I watch her lay there, helpless, hurting, tired, and I clench my teeth and turn from her, heading out.

  “Gabriel,” she whispers softly, turning her head to look at me. I pause, looking at her from the doorway. She hesitates, then murmurs, “I am afraid…”

  I sigh softly, giving her a small smile. “I will be in the other room, Cara. I’ll leave the door open.”

  She looks at me for a long moment, fighting sleep. She shakes her head, whispering, “Will you stay?”

  My throat tightens, my heart stuttering. I swallow before I can finally speak. “You want me to stay with you tonight?”

  She looks at me with tired eyes. Then, she gives me a small smile, closing her eyes and murmuring, “Of all men, Gabriel…you will never scare me…you will not hurt me…” I watch her there for a moment, feeling the hatred and rage slowly seep out of me. I watch her lay in her bed, crimson hair spilled out over the pillow; she is breathing soft, still in pain. Just those soft words, not meant to be flattering but honest, go straight into my chest, robbing me of my anger and dark thoughts.

  Only Cara can ever make me rage like a blizzard and then bring me to laughter and peace. The best and the worst she can bring out in me.

  I return to the bed and sit on the edge of it, pulling off my shoes, my doublet, my belt, leaving my shirt and breeches as I go to her, laying down beside her. She cannot sleep on her side because of the wound, but I lay down against her, my arm above her head, my other arm draped just above her wound. She sighs and smiles sleepily, leaning her head against my arm, and that is all it takes to melt my heart.

  I will never in my life tell her these things. And if I can help it, she will never know that I feel anything more than lust. But in the quiet, when she lays there so peacefully, in that moment when no one can see, when no one could know…in that moment…I wish that she is mine.

  Chapter Thirty Four

  Gabriel

  I lie back on my sofa, feeling the sweet cold biting into my skin. It is a pleasant sensation, the chill, the frost. I can nearly see my breath it is so cold. Still, the pleasantness of it does little to appease my sour mood. It is my mood, after all, which has turned the room nearly to ice. Dark emotions swirl inside of me like a torrent, and the more I think on them, the colder the room becomes.

  Cara has had a few visitors over the past month or so since the incident, but most of them no longer come. Her waking hours are few and I am fairly certain that I have driven most of them off. They do not wish to risk a meeting with me to see her. Enté is the only one safe from my anger, and he visits occasionally, but I am afraid that I am not much in the mind for games.

  There is a soft click of a door, but it does not come from the entrance to the room but from one of the inner chambers, Cara’s room. I glance over at her as she emerges, wrapped up in heaps of layers of warm cloth that trail behind her. She looks on me with a quiet, somber expression, leaning forward just a bit from the wound which I am sure causes her great discomfort still.

  I hear her soft sigh and the rustle of her skirts. She moves to the other side of the room by the window where there is a table with a pitcher of ice water and glasses. She pours a cup of water, and I wonder if she would be able to tolerate drinking water so cold, but she turns to me, coming to my side. “You are ill, Gabriel,” she says softly, handing me the glass while I lay back against the couch. I watch her, and she sits down on the floor by the couch, her skirts fanning around her legs.

  I sit up a bit and drink the water half down before setting it past her on the table. My arm brushes her cheek, and she shivers and shrinks back from me. I watch her, bringing my arm back and just studying her as she sits there.

  When she finally does speak, she does not look up at me, and instead asks softly, “Where is Enté?”

  The question catches me off guard for a moment, and I take a moment to find my thoughts. “Dena and Claque took him to the city. I was going to meet them later but now…”

  She looks up at me then. “But what?”

  I sit up and run a hand through my hair, scattering long, silver strands across my shoulders. “But now I am tired and sore and not in the mood for company.”

  She shrugs. “I am here, am I not?”

  I cannot help a small, almost taunting smile, and I answer, “You are not company, Cara. You are just you.”

  She looks back at me, studying my expression for a while before a slow, gentle smile touches her face. But then her eyes soften, and she looks sad. She sighs and shakes her head, then looks up at me again, and I notice that my throat is tight.

  “Cara…” I whisper, barely able to speak as I watch her fight her tears, brushing them away furiously. I slide from the couch, sinking onto the floor beside her, moving her hands away from her face and cupping her jaw in my hands. She will not meet my gaze, but she continues to tremble and hiccup with tears that I brush away. I wish that I could send her home. Chelyah knows, I do. But to send her home would not only be giving the enemy back one of their most competent commanders, but the faith my people have in me would be destroyed. There simply is no way of sneaking her out or getting rid of her without my people noticing. I cannot afford it.

  Finally, her eyes meet mine, and it seems to make things worse, for she makes a soft, strangled sound in the back of her throat as her tears begin to pour faster now, and I can no longer help but to pull her to me, gathering her in my arms as we sit there on the floor, the Inferno woman settled between my legs, her hands holding my arm that wraps around her shoulders, the other around her waist. I wrap her up in my arms, laying my head at
op hers and she just cries against me. Her skin is hot to the touch, particularly against my bare flesh which is several degrees colder than hers. But it does not burn, and it is not uncomfortable enough for me to let her go. Nothing could have made me let her go.

  Cara cries like her heart is utterly broken, like her soul is shattered, and she is at a loss at how to put it back together. Her whole body trembles, and she can barely breathe past her crying. I wish she would stop. I would give anything just to make her stop crying that way. “Cara…” I whisper, clinging to her, rocking her softly, completely at a loss. “Cara, Cara…forgive me…forgive me, Cara…”

  Finally, she begins to speak again, saying softly, “I do not love you, Gabriel…I do not know that I could ever love a Crystalice…at best, I admire you…at worst, I desire you…I am terrified, Gabriel…I do not want anything to do with you. You are pale and cold…but still, I long for you. To kiss you soft, kiss you deep. To lay with you and explore every inch of your form, see what makes you gasp, what makes you squirm—”

  “Alright, alright. Please, Cara, that is enough,” I gasp, almost desperately, and she tips her chin up at me, just watching me with red eyes for a moment. Almost without thinking, my head sinks toward hers. I wait for her to pull away, giving her every opportunity to push me back and curse me. My nose brushes hers, and I feel her warm breath against my lips when I hesitate. Cara moves then, and she closes the slight distance between us, touching her lips to mine. I feel my breath leave me in a rush, and I sigh contently, the hand on her chin moving to tangle in her hair and gently cradle her to me. But just as my mind begins to go hazy and my body weak, my spitfire gently pulls away, breathing softly against my lower lip, leaning her brow against mine.

  “It is hopeless…” she whispers, closing her eyes, and I feel my chest constrict. “I cannot love a Crystalice, Gabriel…I can enjoy your touch, and even your company… but I cannot love you…” She pulls away, and I let her. “And I am no one’s whore,” she continues as she stands, and I move, snatching her hand, although I do not get up.