Alphas for the Holidays

by Mandy M. Roth

  His kind did not enjoy the feeling of being enclosed. He craved the outdoors, the vast expanse of forest. But even he wouldn’t have lasted long in that raging storm of ice and snow.

  Muttering beneath his breath, he shoved his fingers through his hair with one hand while he rested his other palm against the frozen block of wall.

  It was the strangest thing. The wall was ice, but it was also warm.

  That was bizarre. It should have been little more than a melted puddle at his feet, and yet there was a perfect balance between cold and hot. An odd blue glow filtered from it, casting a radiance down the halls and through the rooms so that it was never truly dark.

  Picking at the wall with his nail, he frowned at the glittering beauty of it. Something was oddly appealing about the place. Cold, foreboding, and yet…alluring. Much like the creator herself.

  And as though his thoughts had conjured the woman, when Alador glanced back out into the night, there she was. Standing as a sentinel, exposed to the cruel elements. But not buried by them, not as he and the children had been.

  The Queen—Luminesa—was one with the fury of it. Her long hair blew like a banner in the breeze behind her. Her arms were held high above her head, and from her fingertips, the ice danced for her, swaying rhythmically above her.

  In profile, her face was even more harshly pretty. Her gown looked as though it’d been built from ice, sparkling like the flame that glowed in the hearths, lighting up the night so that she shone brighter than even the beams that swayed through the sky.

  His fingers dug into the wall as he gazed at her. Alador had only ever known the rumors. That she was cruel beyond imagining, a harsh mistress never to be angered and always to be feared. He’d grown up hearing the stories of her, that if he did not do as his parents demanded, the Ice Queen would come and eat him in his sleep.

  He’d heard that she loathed humans and would as soon drop them from a thousand-foot cliff as show them even a measure of kindness. Then he’d grown into a man, and his suspicions had only been confirmed by the knowledge of the treaty his people were forced to endure every time they needed to cross over into her border.

  For so long, the Ice Queen had been an enigma, the boogeyman they feared, the ruler they loathed. And yet there she stood, silent, alone, and with her face tipped up to the sky, with a look of desolate abandon.

  She was no monster. Not that he could see. No, what he did see was a woman set aside. One possibly so terrified of feeling anything at all that she’d closed herself off to the world, keeping to herself not because she hated others—clearly, if she could tend to the children as she had, she was not evil—but because maybe she no longer knew how to interact with anyone other than her creatures.

  What had turned her into her current form?

  Her lips moved, and Alador caught himself wishing he could hear what she said, what words fell from her lips with such solemnity that even at such a great distance, he knew she suffered.

  Planting his free hand on the pane of ice so smooth it was glass, he shook his head, not sure why he cared as he did. One thing she and his kind had in common was their disinterest in the outside lives of others.

  Except for him. Alador had never much been like his people. Physically, yes. But emotionally, spiritually, where it really counted, he’d never been centaur enough.

  Because he did care. He’d always cared deeply for the plights of others. A bone of contention between him and his sister was his fascination with the humans who lived on the steeps.

  And there, in the middle of a barren landscape, he found that same fascination for others begin to blossom for a woman built of ice but who had a heart made of fire.

  Chapter 6

  Luminesa

  She should leave. Leave and never come back.

  Yes, it would mean defeat. Yes, she’d be thrust back into a cruel world which she’d very nearly not survived before, but first, she’d make sure the Under Goblin did no harm to the inhabitants inside.

  Somehow, she’d make certain that the children were returned to their families, the male to his herd.

  But even as she thought it, her lips twisted into a tight scowl, and her heart hammered with fury at her own weakness. How could she even think it? How could she ever be expected to return to being human and be happy, be normal again? She watched as a crystal of ice floated down on the gentle breeze.

  She tracked its graceful swirls of movement with her eyes, watching as its twelve-pointed crystalline shape moved to settle into the pile of snow gathering high at her feet, disappearing and becoming invisible within its mass. That was what she’d be if she failed. Nothing but clutter on the ground. Vanished, unimportant.

  That gorgeous piece of ice, the only one of its kind in existence, made unimportant the moment it’d settled into the pile. Who would she be without her ice? Helpless? Alone? Frightened of her shadow again?

  Baatha’s sharp cry pierced the veil of night. She glanced up and smiled softly, in awe of his natural grace and beauty.

  Holding out her arm, she waited for him to land on it. The moment he did, her snowy falcon friend rubbed his soft-feathered head against the side of her neck. Sighing deeply, she rubbed her fingers idly down the side of his face.

  The sky was full of dancing lights, piercing stars, and silvery-blue clouds pregnant with snow. The air smelled of crisp pine and frosted berries and nipped at her nose with its wintery kiss.

  “For years, Baatha, I’ve been alone. Devoid of human or semi-human interaction. I do not know if I can do this now. How do I even start?”

  He screeched, and she looked deeply into his golden, tawny eyes, so wise and full of intelligence. She nodded. Having lived with him as her constant companion the past hundred years, she’d learned his language. She’d learned what each shrill cry meant, as though he’d spoken to her in her own tongue. And just as she knew him, he’d come to know her.

  “You are right. I did not think this through.”

  His chest feathers ruffled, and he bumped his sharp beak into her cheek, then blinked at her twice.

  He’d been angry at her earlier for deciding to come on the journey, not able to understand her sudden about-face for coming out to the people trapped there.

  Honestly, she wasn’t quite sure herself why she’d done it. It went against everything she was, and yet…sometimes, when the loneliness of her existence became too deep, she’d remember the woman she used to be. The one who could laugh easily and often. Who’d been able to tell tales and make jokes.

  The one who’d smile with a heart full of glad tidings. Who’d had a heart for the unfortunate and the downtrodden. Who’d believed in the general goodness of the people around her. The woman she’d been before the night that’d stripped her of her soul and had turned her into a creature as unfeeling and uncaring as the ice she loved so much.

  Shaking her head, she watched as a small shower of diamond-polished flakes fell off her crown to land at her bare feet. In that deep darkness, she gave voice to the innermost fears of her heart.

  “When I saw him, Baatha, I felt again.”

  Her whispered words sounded like a ghostly wail on the wind. And for the first time since the genie had given her the power of ice, she shivered, hugging her arms to her chest but not from cold. Rather, from some innate knowledge that things were about to change for her. Portentous things. As though she’d come to a fork in the road, one smooth and barren and free of obstacles and another that was choked with weeds and treacherous holes throughout.

  And though she knew she should have chosen the cleared path, she also knew that by coming there, she’d somehow taken the rickety and dangerous trail.

  Her mouth dry and her palms actually sweating, she held them up before her, watching as curls of steam wafted off them into the night.

  “I sweat.” Her words sounded shocked, strained, and even slightly fearful.

  Baatha moved his head toward her first palm and rubbed the side of his face against it, allowing the ma
gicked tears to fall from his eyes and rim her hand in frost once more.

  He repeated the same process on her other hand before turning to look back at her with curiosity burning bright in his tawny eyes.

  Feeling choked up, Luminesa swallowed hard.

  She was feeling things, not just emotionally but physically as well. Already, she was changing. And the thought was terrifying.

  Curling her hands tightly to her breast, she gazed at the blizzard in front of her without really seeing anything and whispered, “I feel, Baatha. I’m beginning to feel again.”

  His sharp cry rang in her ears, a question that demanded an answer. Was it good, what she felt? Would it change her forever? Would he lose her?

  A single tear slipped from the corner of her eye, crystallizing the moment it landed on her cheek.

  “I don’t know,” she whispered honestly. “I just don’t know.”

  Luminesa stood on that balcony for hours, watching as the aurora borealis danced.

  Under Goblin

  Smiling softly to himself, he made his way up the spiraling staircase, undetected by all within. Not even the Queen would find him there, not with the type of dark magick he’d shrouded himself in.

  He’d told her there would be no interference from him so long as it hadn’t already pertained to his plans, and he meant that.

  He crept softly into the first room he came to and stared at the child lying in the bed. The innocent, sweet face of the miserable little monster. His smile stretched wider, growing sinister and cruel.

  Everything was going according to plan. He’d known that when it came right down to it, the Queen might profess to loathing the very sight of humans, but she wasn’t as cold and callous as she liked to think she was.

  She had a weakness, one he’d discovered long ago when he’d caught her surreptitiously helping a stranded child in the woods. She’d not appeared as a woman to the little boy, but she’d guided him with pillars of walking snow out of the labyrinth of woods he’d found himself in.

  She’d kept the pests and cold away from him. A night in a frozen wood should have killed him, but instead, he’d walked out of there into the frantic arms of his parents, alive, well, and hale. And all due to a woman none would dare believe had done such.

  From that seemingly insignificant incident, a seed of an idea had germinated in his mind. He was many things—cruel, malicious, twisted—but he was also patient, biding his time until she’d not suspect him of subterfuge, until he could gather all the resources needed to finally best the woman who’d become a thorn in his flesh.

  Petty though he might be, those lands were his, and he didn’t share. He wanted her gone. Wanted her mortal. Wanted that power stripped from her until she became the very thing she hated—human.

  Sneering cruelly, he sat on the corner of the bed and called that sliver of spelled looking glass to him, the very one he’d given back to Luminesa.

  He’d needed that mirror; it was the key to her ultimate downfall. To anyone else, it would have been foolish to have given it to her as he had, but he’d known what she would do.

  Luminesa had always had a fondness for children. If she’d stayed outside of the enchanted glades, his plans would have been moot. He’d never have been able to win.

  But the Queen had acted exactly as he’d expected. She’d come into the looped dimension Baba had created just for him. She’d come for the children.

  A shimmer of magic wafted off the silver sitting on his lap. Picking it up, he fisted it tightly in his hands, until the sliver was nothing but a pile of fine ash.

  “Wake up, child,” he intoned deeply, sending a dark pulse of energy through his words.

  Sleepy eyes blinked slowly open.

  Grinning, he blew on the ash in his hand, spraying the shards into the eyes of the child, who began to shudder and shake. Tears streamed from its eyes as it rubbed its cheeks violently. But the poison had already been absorbed.

  The child began to cry, blinded and terrified.

  “Who’s—who’s there?” it asked softly.

  He rubbed the pathetic creature’s floppy hair. “There, there, child. All is well now. Nothing but a dream. Go back to sleep.”

  His voice hypnotized, soothed. And though the child clearly still felt the lingering effects of the glass, the tiny body shuddered once, twice, and then slowly relaxed as it once more settled its heavy head upon its pillow.

  “In the morning,” he whispered to a child by then fast asleep, “when you wake, you’ll know what to do. Do not fail me, for if you do, I shall cut out your parents’ livers and eat them for my breakfast.”

  The babe shivered, and the Goblin licked his lips.

  He stood, turned, walked out of the room, and shut the door softly behind him. He roamed the halls after that, studying and learning the Queen as he did so.

  She’d taken great pains to make the palace as comfortable as possible for her three houseguests. Though built of ice, the palace had a relaxed and almost warm atmosphere to it. Hearths flickered in every room and burned with fire.

  Servants made of ice marched through the halls, busying themselves with tidying up an already immaculate palace. The animals she held so dear, too, had their place in the keep, roaming the halls and rooms as freely as he did.

  Heavy chandeliers spun of ice and crystals hung from massive icy beams, lighting every square inch of the place with an ambient blue glow. Snow bees moved in tight little clusters throughout, dropping fat flakes of snow in their wake.

  That home of hers was unlike the one she normally lived in, one that was austere, somber, and empty. Only she and her damnable falcon lived in it. There were no servants. No flame. No kitchens smelling of roasted and sizzling foods.

  Why had she gone through all the effort? She could easily have afforded to keep the three of them locked up in their separate rooms until the month’s end, but she hadn’t.

  Perhaps she was truly lonely—lonelier than even he’d imagined. He smiled.

  Licking his front teeth, he continued to walk, stopping only to stare at something once and again before moving on. Aware immediately of another presence lingering in the hall, he turned and followed the astringent scent of horseflesh.

  He stopped once he saw the centaur staring forlornly out the window. He did not need to look out to know what the creature spied.

  Luminesa was out there, no doubt communing with her winds of ice and snow. He struggled not to laugh uproariously at the sight of the centaur. Everything was going according to plan.

  Already, the centaur was fulfilling his purpose for being there—to thaw the Queen’s icy heart. To make her fall in love.

  The Goblin hadn’t understood why Baba had sent him for the damnable beast in the beginning, but suddenly he understood it. The look on the male’s face as he watched her, one of utter fascination and budding desire…the Goblin almost choked on his laughter, swallowing it before the sound betrayed him.

  Once, it would have infuriated him to see a male chase her. There’d been a time long, long in the past when he’d considered Luminesa his. All the Goblin wanted right then, however, was his vengeance.

  She would become so besotted by her beast that her thoughts would be divided. She’d be unable to focus on the fact that the key to their release sat literally beneath her nose.

  But even if by some quirk of fate she was able to learn where it was, she’d never have the stomach to do what was needed to actually free them.

  The Goblin released a happy breath. He was just about to turn when Alador grunted heavily, turning sharp, intelligent eyes in his direction.

  The Goblin knew Alador would see nothing, for he’d turned himself invisible.

  “Who’s there?” the beast asked in a deep, rolling voice, his hooves clacking on the icy floor as he took a step in the Goblin’s direction.

  But the Goblin only chuckled, his voice mingling with the howl of the winds outside the walls. Bored, the Goblin put his last piece of the plan into play.
Holding out his palm, he blew at the pile of silver that’d suddenly appeared on it, scattering it through the winds.

  That glass was different.

  That glass was special.

  “Have fun, beast,” he whispered, and then he cackled as, outside the window, red eyes glowed.

  Chapter 7

  Luminesa

  Bone tired now, Luminesa was just about to finally head back to her room and try to get whatever sleep she could when she froze, her heart thumping powerfully in her chest as row upon row of red, burning eyes suddenly sprouted all around her.

  “What in the bloody hell is—”

  She never got to finish her thought as, suddenly, the castle was rocked by a thunderous, shaking roll. The power of it tossed her to her feet.

  Two things happened at once. Alador came barreling through the door, and one of those red-eyed monsters crawled up and over the castle’s parapets.

  Her eyes widening, Luminesa stared into the deranged face of an ice demon. With ten feet of enchanted ice and fangs for teeth, it had eyes that glowed the color of hell’s flame. It roared as it came striding toward her, gripping the end of an ice club.

  Behind him came even more of the beasts.

  “Dear gods,” she breathed.

  Ice demons were terrible, nasty creatures that crawled from the icy pits of hell itself. Her power was such that they’d rarely attempted to overtake her realm.

  But there…there she was surrounded by them.

  “Luminesa!” Alador roared, yanking on her arm and snapping her out of her shocked trance. “We must fight.”

  His words were the impetus she needed to shake the fog off her brain.

  Praying to the gods that her power would be sufficient, she rolled her hands together and crafted a bow, quiver, and arrows made of ice and shoved them into his chest. She’d designed the quiver so that no matter how many arrows Alador used, he’d never run out of them.