A Heart of Ice

by Phoenix Briar

  By the end of the tale, the sky is dark, and the room is lit only with the light of Scarlet’s fire, one brilliant ball for the sun, and a softer flicker for the moon, surrounded by other, smaller flickers. And then the image burns out, smoke fluttering up to the ceiling and vanishing there. Moonlight pours into the windows, and I take notice of the room now. Cynthia and her husband are gone, but Alistair remains with myself and the two children sitting eagerly by Cara who looks down at them now with a tender smile.

  “Come now…” she says softly, breaking the spell over the room, and she stands up, stretching out her hand and watching the braziers light up and illuminate the room. “It is time for bed. Zsoka, will you stay with me?” Zsoka looks up at her with sleepy, curious eyes. Cara smiles gently. “I want you to stay with me from now on. I will teach you how to be an Inferno again.” And—hesitantly, Zsoka smiles, a brilliant, beautiful smile from a child’s heart. Cara looks to me, not exactly asking, more telling me what she wants to do. And what can I say? I give a little smile and incline my head. Yes. I should have protected Zsoka from the start…I thought that I had. Cynthia and her husband had loved their son, Thomas, so much. I had assumed they would love Zsoka as well. She had been like a daughter to him.

  “Alright…” Zsoka says softly, sleepily, and that seems to please Scarlet to no end. Scarlet holds out her hands and picks Zsoka up, cradling her to her chest, and I can see sparks of flame between them. I suck in a breath when Cara takes Enté’s hand, but apparently, she has cooled that part of her, for the boy does not complain and smiles sleepily, depending on her hand to keep him up as he stands. Zsoka watches him, her head resting lazily on Cara’s shoulder.

  Cara glances up for a moment at the pair of us sitting there, and I catch my breath at her heated, golden gaze, twin pools of sunlight swirling in her eyes—molten and fierce. But she turns away with the children and leaves the room. I release a breath quietly and turn to look at Alistair. I smile and mean to tease him over the matter, but the words fall dead in my throat at the sight of him. The way he leans forward with his elbows on his knees. His eyes are enthralled, following the glow of her as she leaves.

  I turn my head back to the doorway which is empty now, and I stand, clearing my throat. “Well, that was not the way I had planned on this evening turning out,” I say casually with a tense chuckle.

  Alistair shakes himself and clears his throat, seeming to come back to this world. He laughs uneasily and runs a hand through his hair, casting a nervous glance to the door before back to me. “No, not in the least, brother,” he says and gives a more genuine laugh this time. It eases me some, but not enough. “Come, the hour is late, and I imagine that we shall be woken early in the morn,” he says amiably and slaps my back. “Stop scowling, sir,” he teases and meanders out of the room.

  Alistair asks when we are out in the hall, “Is…she always like that?”

  I walk alongside him, my thoughts jumbled and tangled with emotions that run hot and dark and ugly. “Like what?” I ask, probably more tersely than I should have, but I don’t want to talk about her.

  Alistair opens his mouth and then thinks better of what he was going to say and searches for another word. “Petulant?”

  I bite off a laugh, and that small sound is enough to ease some of the indiscernible anger in me. I smile a bit and glance over at his curious look. “Usually. I’ve learned with her that…whatever she feels, she feels strongly. Anger. Sorrow. Joy. Lo—” I break off the last word and try to disguise it with pretending something is caught in my throat. I focus on the stairs ahead of us as we begin to ascend them. That word. I know it, taste it, feel it. But why is it lodged in my throat? Why will it not emerge as the others had? The more I question, the more panic begins to rise in me, until at last, Alistair is broken from his dazed stupor.

  “Gabriel, what’s the matter?” he asks and stops on the stairs.

  I look up at him and sigh, running a hand through my white hair. “Nothing, Ali. Alas, I had little to eat and am merely still drained from my journey is all.”

  Alistair studies me for a long moment and then sighs and starts up the steps again. “You’re a poor liar, Gabe. A good quality in a man. But if you do not wish to speak on it, only say so.” He seems a bit miffed, but knowing him, it will blow over soon.

  So I sigh and say, “Ah, you know me too well. I am troubled, but I do not wish to speak on it just yet until I know it better.”

  Alistair nods. “Fair enough. Well, goodnight. Sleep well.” He pauses by his door to salute me, and I give a tired smile and a one-handed salute as well, lazing off to my bed. I don’t pause by Enté’s room. I don’t want to know if she is there, putting the child to bed. I don’t want to know what I would do if I was alone with her.

  Chapter Forty Four

  Scarlet

  Zsoka is sound asleep almost the moment I lay her down in my bed. I help her out of her dress and wash her face and hands from the meal and tuck her in to bed. But I am far too awake to sleep. Anger is still coursing through me in torrents and it will not give me peace. I pull off my dress, the ornaments out of my hair. I stand in my room in only an underdress, but the cool air from the balcony almost feels nice. It’s cold, but not unbearably, and it helps to pull me out of the haze of my mind. I move towards it to close the bamboo doors, not wanting the other Inferno or myself to catch a chill in the night.

  But when I stop at the balcony, I see before me a great, glowing moon out on the horizon, her light cool and pale, glittering on the water’s surface like a necklace of silver strung out from an amulet. Maybe it is the story I told by the fire, the image of my mother’s face, so perfect, in the flames. Perhaps it is homesickness that pulls me out. I step out onto the balcony in my underdress, the wind tossing my red-gold hair. It brushes in front of my face, down my neck, tickling the front of my chest, but I pay it no mind, too enthralled by the brilliant glow of the moon. I miss my home…

  I pad my way to the edge of the balcony, leaning against the banister and staring out at the moon as if leaning any further would bring me any closer to her, to home. This side of the castle overlooks the ocean, nestled on the side of the rocky crag so that below my balcony, the ocean laps and roars at the great rocks, foaming eagerly. I break my gaze off the moon to look down at the sea, look down and down at the great and powerful waters crashing on the rocks.

  “Do you always walk about in your underclothes?” calls a voice that is somewhere between teasing and anxious.

  Startled, I jerk my head and catch only the sight of my red hair before I push it out of my face and look at the balcony several feet from mine where the golden-haired man named Alistair stands outside of what I assume is his room. I hadn’t noticed him when I walked out on my balcony and I’ve no idea how long he’s been outside. I’m a bit startled and glare, crossing my arms over my breasts, not that it helps the outline of my form glowing through the underdress with the moonlight on me. “I wasn’t aware that anyone else was out here,” I say shortly and turn to go back inside. Modesty doesn’t really bother me in most cases, but at night in a strange place and with a thin underdress, it certainly does.

  He laughs and says, “Do not let me disturb you, miss. Here. Take this.” I turn back to him, and he offers me his cloak. There are several feet between my balcony and his, and I look back at him with a dubious look. I frown, watching him as he offers his cloak, leaving him only in an open-front shirt and a pair of breeches. “Do you mean for me to toss it so far?” he teases, watching me with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

  Finally, I turn back to the balcony, for reasons beyond my fathoming. Perhaps I do want to stay out longer on the balcony. Perhaps I want to see why exactly this man is talking to me when most in this place seem to hate my kind with a passion. So I go to the edge of the balcony and offer my hand. Alistair leans over and laughs a bit. “You’ll have to come closer than that, lest you want me to fall off.” He grins. “You’ll have to save me, of course, if you let me fall.”


  I lean farther and grab the cloak from him, coming back to safe distance on the balcony and wrapping the cloak around me. “And who’s to say I would save you?” I counter, clasping the cloak. It is warm and lined with velvet on the inside. It feels nice and it smells…strange. Like earth. A rich, musky scent of earth and salt from the sea. I tug it closer to me, the wind pulling gently at it, calming its torrent. “What if I let you fall?”

  “You won’t,” he says confidently, still leaning with his arms on the banister, but in a much less precarious position.

  “Oh?” I ask, raising a brow in the moonlight. “And why is that?” In this light, his blond hair looks almost like Gabriel’s silver…

  “Simple: I’m far too handsome to die,” he says and winks.

  A laugh bursts out of me unexpectedly, and I smile warmly, moving a hand to cover my mouth, but he grins warmly at me, seeming quite pleased with himself. I shoot him a rueful smile and reply, “Obviously. That must be the reason.” He grins broader but I can see a faint stain on his cheeks. “But tell me: you are not like the others I have met here.”

  “Is that a question?” he replies and shrugs easily. “You mean, why am I not as harsh and rude as my aunt or as placidly bland as my uncle?” I shrug now. “Do not judge them too harshly, love. War does terrible things to good people.” I find myself curious at his words and he sighs. “This is really not a conversation to have across balconies.”

  I shrug. “Then tomorrow? Perhaps when I am wearing more than my nightclothes and your cloak?”

  He grins at me then. “Ah, but I like the sight of you in my cloak, lassie.” My eyes widen a bit, and it’s my turn to blush, something that is very hard to do, mind you, especially for Inferno.

  “I suppose you like the sight of me in my nightdress too,” I reply with dry humor, because I am quite certain that the cloak is not what he likes so much, and I take a step back towards the door.

  “Ah, but I’m much too decent a man to say such things to a fine lady,” says he with a more bashful smile. Does he always smile?

  I find myself unable to help from smiling as well, and I laugh a bit. “Handsome and a decent man. What’s a woman to think?” I tease him.

  “That…” he starts as he turns his eyes to inspect the banister of his balcony, then mine, “…I am far too intriguing…” he pushes and pulls at the banister for a moment and then jumps up onto it, balancing and looking over at me with a wicked grin as I stand and stare in astonishment, “…for you to go in for the night…”

  I cry out in alarm, “What in the hell are you—”

  “Stand back, love,” he calls, and without further warning, jumps from his banister to mine. His feet land on my banister, but his foot slips as I jump back in alarm, and he loses his balance, going backwards instead of forwards. I lurch forward and catch his hand, the other one grabbing the banister. He dangles there from my balcony for a moment, one hand in both of mine, the other one holding on to the banister of my balcony.

  I swear and stagger back, clutching his hand as I fight the wind and force pulling him down, the waves roaring, hungry for him. I pull as hard as I can, and at last, he hooks his foot up on the balcony and pulls himself up. He rolls himself over the banister and together, we collapse onto my balcony. For a moment, we say nothing, but then at long last, he laughs, grinning warmly and rolling onto his side to look at me sprawled out on the floor.

  I look over at him, breathing hard. “You are absolutely mad,” I tell him, torn between fear and laughing and irritation, adrenaline pumping in my veins as I sit up and pull the cloak around me, glaring down at him.

  “Anything to impress a beautiful lady.” He grins and winks at me, and I scoff and shake my head.

  “What is the matter with you?” I press, snarling, running a hand through my hair and huffing, looking over at him with a frown.

  He just smiles warmly, propping himself up on his elbow and grinning at me. “Ah, many things, love. Many, many things.”

  I shake my head again and sigh, shivering a bit. “You could have died.”

  He shrugs. “We’ll all die someday.”

  “How foolish,” I reply and quirk a brow at him. “Does it not concern you how your actions may affect others? What if you had fallen from my balcony? How would I explain that? For all I know, your aunt might accuse me of pushing you over.”

  He seems to consider this, rubbing his rough jaw. “Hm. It hadn’t occurred to me,” he says blankly.

  I blink and stare at him before suddenly laughing and shoving his shoulder, knocking him onto his back again. He grins at that, but I stand up, the cloak around me, and he follows me, noticing the sight of me. “Art cold, lassie?” he asks, seeing me shiver a bit.

  I shrug. “Least I could do is finish our conversation since you neigh risked your life to do so.”

  He smiles a bit and goes to the far wall to sit down. “Come sit, lass. The wind is not as bad here.” I follow him and wrap his warm cloak around me as I sit down next to him but not touching him. He smiles a bit at me and then looks ahead to the sky. “So what was it we were speaking of, at any manner?”

  “Mmmm your aunt and uncle, I believe,” I answer, pulling my legs up to my chest and leaning my cheek on them, looking over at Alistair.

  He glances back at me and smiles gently. “Ah, yes.” He shrugs. “My aunt had but one son…Thomas. After that, there were no more. And before him, she lost many, many babes. He was their everything. And then…Thomas went to war. We all did. Thomas, Gabriel and I. Thomas wasn’t made for war. We always told him that. He preferred working with his horses when we went hunting or he’d work on repairing old weapons when Gabriel and I were training…” He sighs and shakes his head, and it occurs to me the pain of speaking about a long, lost friend, and I reach out and touch the back of his hand sympathetically.

  Alistair looks over at me curiously and then gives a small smile and picks up my hand, kissing the back of it before setting it down innocently. For all of his jesting and teasing and outlandish behavior, he seems…rather kind…and serious, as if all of his joviality is to hide something. He sighs and continues, “Ah well…it was no surprise that when other men carried off spoils of war—weapons, jewels, and the like…he come back with this wee little lassie in his arms, screaming away. He had burns all down his arms from her lighting herself aflame like she done…but he just kept holding on to her and brought her home. T’was either that or leave her there on the battlefield. The others wanted her killed. Said she’d grow up to be a soldier too. But he just couldn’t do it.” He smiles a bit and shakes his head before looking back at me once more, studying me as if looking for something there. “You were a soldier, weren’t you?”

  I shift, uncomfortable. “Yes…” is my reply. “In my own time, I was an archer and a dancer. And…when my brother died, I became a Knight Protector and led the battalion that slew Mit’an’av.”

  Alistair seems shocked. We sit there for a very tense moment before he looks back to the sky and sighs. “Well…no one told me that wee part of the story…only that Gabriel brought you back from war…As I recall…not a week after Thomas was killed in battle.” He laughs a bit though and grins at me. “Although it seems Gabriel seriously underestimated the trouble an adult Inferno would give him—a woman, no less.”

  I smirk, proud of myself, and lift my chin, earning another laugh, this one louder. I lean forward and put my hand to his mouth. “Hushh…” I hiss softly, “Zsoka is asleep in my room.” I sit there, close to him, with my hand over his mouth, but he just looks back at me with a twinkle in his eyes. I lurch back from him, blushing.

  He chuckles, more quietly this time. “Easy, lass. I’llna hurt you.” He reaches out and tucks some of my windblown hair behind my ear.

  I give him a dubious look but smile gently. “I know…I am glad though…that the pain of…losing your friend…did not change you as it did them.”

  He sighs heavily and admits, “Oh, I’m not as sure as that,
love…I had some bad times with Thomas gone… thankfully, Gabriel temporarily banned me from the war until I could clear my head. He told me I was a danger to myself and my comrades…and he was right.”

  I watch him and give a small smile. “Gabriel is a good friend then…at least you two still have each other…”

  “Aye…” says he and gives a rueful smile, although his eyes are serious, staring out at the night. “Which is why I’m a damned fool for being out here with you.”

  “Oh?” I inquire, watching him and then following his gaze to the moon.

  “Aye,” he says again and looks back at me as I watch the moon. “I dare say he’s in love with you, Scarlet.”

  My head snaps over to him, golden eyes wide and fixed on him. Pleasure and fear and anger steal at my chest, and I heave myself up. My pupils dilate, become huge disks of black, consuming the gold. “You should go. Now.”

  He quickly scrambles up, looking over at me. “Scarlet, Scarlet, now don’t do that,” he says gently, reaching for me, but I slap his hands away. “Here now….I meant no harm…” but I keep backing away, my heart pounding, watching him with growing anger as red-gold fur ripples over my skin. He reaches for me again, and I slap his hand away again, and my back hits the banister.

  “No!” I shout at him. “You don’t know what you say! Get out!”

  “Okay,” he says at last, beginning to back away, holding out his hands in defense. I’m growling low in my throat now. “Okay, love. I’m going. I’m going…see?” He backs away from me. At least this one is smart enough to know not to corner a tiger. The growing panic in me subsides, and I am left only raw and breathing hard, staring at him as he stands at the center of my balcony, watching me with his hands out and a guilty look on his face. After a long, tense moment, he asks softly, “May I…at least use the door this time?”