A Heart of Ice

by Phoenix Briar

  I sigh, trying to be patient. “I can help with the wheel.”

  “Since when do you work with metal?” He looks me up and down, knowing full well that it takes more upper body strength than my small form. A glance to the blacksmith with his arms as big as my waist assures me of that.

  I glance at him and then back to Gabriel. “I worked with the swords when it was necessary. Point is that I can get it done and in less than a day.”

  The blacksmith laughs. “Darlin’, you no be able ta even lift tha tools.”

  I cut him a look. “Give me a fire, and I’ll have all the strength I need.” The two men share a look. Gabriel rubs his temples and sighs. He does not like this, I can tell, but we are wasting time and I am getting weaker. So the blacksmith walks to the fire and stokes it as much as he can before sauntering away, gasping and plopping down in the snow, glad for its chill. The fire isn’t near as large as it needs to be, so I go over and stoke it until it roars. “Yes…” I purr and sink close into the fire.

  Gabriel jumps towards me out of habit, I assume, fearing the fire would hurt me. But I moan as the flames torch my body. They consume me, fuel me, the Magik that is Inferno keeping my hair and clothes from being eaten by the flames. For the first time in months, I feel warm. I am blazing hot and loving every moment of it. At once, I feel worlds better than I have in days, and I grab the materials and start working. If only the Crystalice palace had some way to house such a large fire for me to rest inside. Then, I would not have had to come all the way out to this place…

  The blacksmith is right: I’m not strong. But with fire fueling me and pumping me and being able to work the metal hotter than he is able, I am much more effective than him. I don’t stop. I just keep heating and hammering, measuring and going at it again. It isn’t going to be pretty. It is probably going to be very bumpy, and it probably is not going to last longer than what we need to get to Ocarine, but at least it would be done.

  Just as the sun begins to set, I fall back into the fire and rest there. My vision is a blur of reds and yellows as the fire wraps me up, soaking me. I can hear the others talking, but the whispers and cracks of the fire are just so soothing, and I sink back into it. I wake to a sharp poke at my side and sit up, leaving the welcomed warmth of the fire and glaring at Gabriel who had poked me with a long, metal rod, not daring to get closer. He smiles gently. “Well done, Cara. Now let’s get moving while we still have light. We might make it by morning.”

  My disappointment must show on my face. Leave? But I am so warm and so comfortable here. I sigh, and he offers his hand, after having tactfully placed a heat-working glove around it, as well as consoling, “Once we are in Ocarine, it will be warm and we will have you set up in a room with a working fireplace.”

  “Oh, very well,” I mutter irritably and accept his hand, climbing up out of the fire. It flickers on my form for a while before the cold drives it to sink into my skin. I still carry with me that warm glow until the chill sets in and I am left on my own to produce the fire that brought me into this world. Back at the inn, I pack all of what I had brought into a bag and hope that the miserable drizzle will hold off at least until I can climb safely into the carriage.

  Enté is whining down the hall as I braid my damp hair and pin it up out of my way. Everything feels damp and musky and cold. I am almost irritable all over again. But even still, I feel better than I have in days, and so I go down the hall to where Heather is trying to pack Enté’s things and he is whining about having to ride in the carriage again. He’s thrown himself onto the floor, his face red and wet, his mouth gaping open.

  Sighing, I give the very ornery Heather a shared look of exasperation before going to the child. I crouch down by him, and he looks up at me. I touch my finger to the tip of his nose and smile. “Tag,” I say, and watch his eyes look at me with confusion. “You’re it.” My smile grows into a grin as his eyes widen with understanding, and I jump up, running out the door. Oh, my side is going to hate me in a few hours, but for the moment, I feel warm and alive and blazing in glory. I laugh, running down the hall as his little feet charge after me.

  I dodge past some of the guards who look on in confusion before their eyes follow the little prince, and they laugh and shake their heads. I lead Enté out of everyone’s way, out into the snow, the slush that sprays the air when my feet kick up. I turn around to face the little boy who runs after me, wearing only a light shirt and pants, his feet bare in the snow. I wince at the sight. Enté seems to love it, but it makes my toes hurt just looking at him. My feet are wrapped up in stockings and stuffed into fur-lined boots, and even then, I am still wriggling them and clenching them to try to keep them warm. I make a face at Enté, and he comes charging after me. The poor kid is so tiny; there is no chance of him catching me when I am actually running. So I run backwards, jumping away from him, dodging this way and that before he finally grabs me.

  I laugh and call out, “Okay, I’m it now!” He takes off running with all his little might, and I laugh, jogging after him until a pair of ice blue eyes stop me in my tracks. Enté turns his head to look back at me, grinning like a fool before he runs right into his father’s legs. Gabriel catches him before he falls back and laughs, hauling him up and setting him on his hip.

  “Just what trouble are you two into now?” he asks as I make my way over to them both with a warm smile.

  “Just a game of tag,” I tell him, and he raises a brow before I lean over and kiss his cheek. His skin is freezing against my warm lips, and he stiffens a bit before I say, “Tag. You’re it now, Gabriel.”

  Enté laughs before he realizes that Gabriel is holding him. Gabriel’s eyes are on mine, filled with so many questions and so many answers I do not have. His eyes are laughing. Have they ever laughed before? I don’t think so…but they are laughing now, smiling at me, and I never remember that cold blue feeling so warm. “Hurry, Cara! Grab me! Grab me!” Enté cries, leaning towards me in his father’s arms.

  Gabriel looks back at his son and laughs. “Not now, Enté. Time to go.”

  “Aw,” comes the expected complaint as Gabriel carts off the boy—who has gone lax in his arms—over to the carriage. I laugh to myself and shake my head. I turn to the inn to go and get my things, but some of the guards are coming out carrying mine and Enté’s bags, so I head for the carriage instead. I sit down across from Enté, determined to keep him entertained for the next few hours. I encourage him to sleep through his boredom, but he has so much energy on top of the excitement of going to a new place.

  “His Senai is the ward of the lord and lady we are visiting,” Gabriel explains when he climbs into the carriage and shuts the door. He sighs and leans back against the cushions, and I can see that he is glad to be moving as well. As much as he complained about my fixing the wheel, none of us wanted to be stuck here for another day. The sun has set by now, and there is only a golden strip on the horizon.

  Enté looks over at his father curiously, as do I. “Is that so?” I grin at Enté.

  Gabriel chuckles. “Yes well, he probably doesn’t remember her. It’s been a while since we traveled to Ocarine. Her name is Zsoka. She’s rather quiet and shy, but a sweet girl. They got along fairly well about a year back. I think that you will like her, Cara…making her Enté’s Senai is very similar to why you became my ward…” Enté looks back and forth between the two of us, realizing that we are talking about him, or at least something that has to do with him, and rather curious on the matter.

  “Oh?” With a look at him, I smile softly. Enté really is such a cute little child. He is…strange. I think with fondness of the fire-borne children. Their skin is all golden and bronze, warm caramel in the candle glow. And it is so lovely. Their hair is dark, some a rich chestnut, others gold, and some firebrick red—like mine. So many colors, so dark and rich and lovely. And this child, he is so pale, so cold. If he were one of my kind, I would think him to be sickly. His skin is as white as the snow, and his eyes as cool and sharp as his fat
her’s. His hair is like silver, teal and shimmering in the light, like the moonlight—bright and soft and pale. And still so lovely. I have always thought the Crystalice were ugly creatures with such fair, sparkling features. But this child…he is radiant.

  “Is something the matter, Scarlet?” Gabriel breaks my train of thought, and I look up at him to find his inquiring eyes. Apparently, he has been watching me for some time. I wonder what showed on my face as I looked on at his son, this child who is still beautiful even though he was born of my enemy. This child who is supposed to be ugly and evil but who is instead the calm glow of moonlight in my darkness, lighting my path.

  “No,” I reply with a faint smile, homesickness in my heart when I shake my head. “I was…only remembering…”

  “Remembering?” he inquires, leaning back in his seat even though his eyes seem to lean forward into me.

  A smile is my reply. “Yes…of my homeland. It…has been so long since I have seen color. I feel as though…I have gone blind to colors. Here, everything is pale and frozen and cold…I have forgotten—almost—what it is like to live among people with dark skin and fire in their eyes, the vibrant colors of their clothes, their hair. So much color. And here…it is so pale…I had almost forgotten.”

  His smile fades a bit, and I can see some disappointment and a bit of offense in his eyes. He doesn’t speak for a moment, so I add softly, hesitantly, “It is…beautiful…” His eyes go back to me, curious and yet…desperate somehow. A gentle smile touches my lips, and I continue, “I…miss my home but…I have never really thought of this place as beautiful. It is cold and unfamiliar…but…” I sighed, trying to find words.

  Gabriel reaches out and takes my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “You are beautiful,” he tells me, gently, quietly, as though it is a secret just for us. And I can hear it in his words—what he must have heard in mine. I am not supposed to be lovely, not to him. I am the enemy. From the time we were born, he was told to hate my dark skin and my red hair, the fire in my eyes. And I was taught to fear his cold skin, his pale eyes. I give a hesitant smile and squeeze his hand in return.

  “Me too?” Enté pipes up, breaking the sacred reverence of that moment between us.

  I laugh, and Gabriel laughs too, and we lean back in our seats. “Yes, Enté. You are beautiful too,” I tell him, and he grins, and I wonder how much longer until he begins to scrunch his nose at anything ‘unmanly’. I know that I won’t be able to call him beautiful for much longer. Soon, he will want to be called ‘handsome’ and ‘manly’ and ‘strong’. But he is beautiful. I hope he never forgets that.

  Chapter Forty One

  Gabriel

  That miserable drizzle holds off until we reach Ocarine. It is sometime in the night when I realize that the ground is now dry, or at least solid if it’s still damp. The snow slush gives way to dirt and short, tolerant plants, and slowly, to soft grass that cushions the sound of that damnable squeaking wheel that Cara made. The wheel is what is keeping me up in this early hour. A peek outside the window doesn’t tell me much. It’s dark inside and out. There is a lantern hanging on the carriage that allows enough light for me to find my surroundings.

  I am certain now that we are in fact in Ocarine, but a glance to the sky disheartens me. We should have been in Ocarine hours ago. The horses must be tired, and I am sure now that we won’t reach the castle until at least noon. With a heavy sigh, I flop back into my seat and look ahead of me. Cara is sleeping—again. She must be tired to be able to sleep in this rickety, jumpy carriage with that damn squeaky wheel. But there she is, curled up on the seat with her red hair spilling out over the cushion. She let it loose from her braid shortly before going to sleep, saying that it was giving her a headache.

  Enté is tucked up against her, and with a sigh, I am reminded that her warm body is probably what is making him sweat and whine in his sleep, and now I know that she really must be tired to be able to sleep with his cold body pressed against hers. So I lean over and gently pull my son from her arms. Cara sighs with relief in her sleep and rolls onto her back, one arm hanging off the seat, the other on her belly.

  Enté whines and shifts in my arms, but I put my feet up in the seat and lay back, cooling my body. He settles much more comfortably against my cold form, snuggling into me, and I smile. How long has it been since I’ve held him like this? Chelyah, it seems like ages. How long has it been since I played with him? Spent time with him? I would often sit in his room when insomnia drove me from my bed or watch him play to distract my thoughts from work. But how long has it been since I knew my son as a father should know their only living offspring? My sigh is heavy and ruffles his hair, and I lay my cheek against his head for a moment before kissing it. “Forgive me…” I whisper, knowing that he can’t hear me, and I close my eyes.

  When I open them, sunlight is beaming in from the cracks in the curtains. I shift uncomfortably, feeling a heavy form on me. Enté is still sleeping. He hadn’t slept well by Cara, so he is still knocked out. I yawn, and my body groans in protest to moving. Great. I am stiff and sore, feeling frozen half solid. While freezing is something I occasionally enjoy, especially when I don’t feel well, being frozen in an uncomfortable position is not any more fun than sitting for a long period of time in one position. Damnit.

  “You’re awake.” Cara’s voice is low and soft, and I love the sound of it. She is sitting up and smiling gently. She has more of her color than she’s had in a while. Her skin is golden and warm, almost back to the copper bronze it is supposed to be.

  “Is that a question?” I grumble, rubbing my eyes. Enté is content to be a deadweight on my chest. Sighing, I manage to sit up enough to stretch out my sore, stiff muscles and settle him to lay on my legs where both of us can be a little more comfortable. Another yawn steals my words, and Cara laughs at me.

  “I just didn’t think you would sleep is all,” she explains, turning to part the curtain on the right and peer out of it. The golden sunlight cracks from the folds and spills over her cheek, down her throat and shoulder. “It feels so much warmer here…even the sun feels like it’s warm again.” I don’t bother telling her that the sun is always warm, especially to a Crystalice out on a cloudless day. It’s miserable. But she seems happy, so I let her be. She pushes open a window pane and calls to the guard, “How much farther?”

  “An hour or so, miss,” he calls back, and Cara smiles and shuts the pane. She sighs and sits back in her seat. Her golden eyes return to me with the most curious expression, as if wondering why I’m watching her. And then she smiles, this bright, beautiful smile that lights up her whole face, showing her teeth and hiding her golden eyes. And I can’t help but smile too. She’s so much…happier in the warm weather. I wonder if this is more like what she was like at home. This happy, almost child-like innocence. Before it was taken from her. Before this stupid war took it from her.

  “Hey…you,” I call, and she makes that curious face again. I smile and murmur, “Come here.”

  She makes a funny face, pursing her lips to one side and scrunching her nose as if she isn’t sure, but she leans over towards me. I cup her face in my hand and draw her closer and brush my lips against hers. Mine are cold to the touch, I am sure, and hers are like kissing fire: hot and almost painful but not painful enough to pull away. She’s stiff at first, and then she falls pliant to my kiss, leaning into me, one warm hand touching my shoulder to keep herself steady.

  After a moment, she pulls away, and her cheeks are now the shade of cherries, red, almost purple, and I smile at the wide-eyed look on her face. “Nnnn…ar’ ‘dere yet?” murmurs my son, stirring on my lap.

  Cara blushes darker and shifts, sitting back in her seat. “Almost, little love. Just a while longer. See if you can sleep just a little more.” Enté sighs with impatience and discomfort but falls lax again, keeping himself from waking up because he doesn’t want to be bored. I look back to Cara, but she isn’t looking at me. Her chin is in her hand, and her face is pointed to
the glass, golden eyes taking in the new surroundings. The sunlight shows a smile on her lips.

  Chapter Forty Two

  Scarlet

  It is not quite home, but the air is so warm and humid when I step out of the carriage. I take in a big breath and spread my arms wide in the sunlight. It pours down on me like a fresh, spring rain, and I am a flower soaking it up. The heavy clothes I’ve been wearing suddenly feel too heavy and much too confining, but they have been keeping my limbs from freezing and falling off, so I suppose that I can’t complain much. Still, I can’t wait to be out of them. I want to feel the sunshine on my bare skin…that is, until a cool, ocean breeze sweeps powerfully over the cliff and draws a squeak from my throat. I recoil, drawing my arms in close and shivering. In the distance, Gabriel laughs, and I shoot him a look of daggers, pouting.

  “Come inside, Cara,” he calls, still chuckling as he carries the half-awake child into the castle. It normally would not be proper for a man to be carrying his son and tending to him the way Gabriel does—that’s a woman’s job, after all. But Enté is all that Gabriel has left since his wife died, and I don’t think anyone has the heart or the constitution to fault him. And Gabriel isn’t exactly someone you argue with.

  So instead, I smile and go running for the castle, looking like some excited child—but I am. It has been so, so long since I have felt warm and alive. This place is not home, but it will do. I feel like myself again. I am warm, and I can breathe. I can feel the blood in my veins again, thawing out from its slumber. I can feel sensations across my skin, tingling in my fingers and toes. And it feels so wonderful.

  A sight stops me, and I pause to look out at the crag not far. There is a figure there. I can scarce make him out. He is male, and tall, and not a Crystalice. He is at the least a half-breed with his sandy blond hair tossing in the cool breeze, and he is dressed in brown slacks and a blue—maybe green shirt. He looks over at me, and we stand there for a moment, just watching each other. Finally, he gives a smile and brings his hand up in a short wave.