Gathering Frost (Once Upon A Curse Book 1)

by Davis, Kaitlyn

  My heart grows heavy. A tickle burns the back of my throat.

  I should not be looking at these. They are too private. Too personal. Still, I cannot stop my fingers from turning the small page, reading what comes next.

  His kingdom was under the spell of a fearsome dragon. No one remembered who they were. This page contains the image of a yellow dragon with bright blue eyes standing over the houses below. The identity of this character is all too obvious, even without the crown balanced on its forehead.

  The queen.

  I keep reading, ignoring the pictures, focusing on the story.

  The lonely prince knew what he needed to do. He needed to slay the dragon and free his friends so no one was lonely anymore. So he found the dragon's lair and faced the fearsome dragon.

  When the lonely prince began to charge, the dragon sat down. "I don't want to fight," she said. The dragon did not look so fearsome anymore. She looked lonely, like the prince.

  The prince put down his sword. "Release my people," he said. But the dragon shook her head. "Then I'll be alone." The prince touched her long snout. "We can be alone together."

  The prince and the dragon were never lonely again.

  I close my eyes tight. My chest constricts painfully.

  Oh Asher, what a beautiful dream.

  I understand now why he hesitated, why he could not shoot. He never thought he would have to. Somehow, he always believed deep down in his soul that his mother was a good person, was as sad as he was, just needed a friend. He truly thought that given the chance she would do the right thing.

  I want to cry for him. I wonder if he understands how close his dreams were, how different his life would have been had he been born a girl, that the only reason for his mother's hatred was something completely out of his control.

  I dig through the papers, reading more titles. The Lonely Prince and the Beautiful Princess. The Lonely Prince and the Long Lost King. The Lonely Prince and the Peasant Boy. On and on they go, little bundles filled with the stories that Asher created, dreams a sad little boy was too afraid to speak out loud, confessions only paper could hold. Stories of redemption, of hope, of faith.

  Stories of love.

  I close the lid and push the box back under the bed, deep out of sight where it belongs. Where Asher wanted it. Safe from the eyes of his mother. But even as I stand, unroll my paintings, I can't remove the stories from my mind. They dig in, fight while I try to jostle them free, try not to think about Asher.

  But it's no use.

  A memory floods my vision. Asher holding my hand as the sinkhole opened below me, saving me, saving someone who did not deserve to be redeemed. A galaxy shimmered in his eyes, as they seemed to whisper that everything would be fine, that he would never let me go. And in the split second where the ground gave way, I believed him. My hand tightened on his, letting the warmth of his body embrace me. I trusted that he would keep his promise. And he trusted that I would become worthy of it.

  Just like he trusted the queen.

  As quickly as the image comes, it fades.

  I stumble as though I've just been slapped, unsteady, breath coming heavy. My fingers tremble, my heart pounds. For the first time, I realize how deep my betrayal really was. Everything he ever believed was shattered, by me, by the queen. What if the boy I love is truly gone? What if together Queen Deirdre and I broke his faith?

  I need to see Asher.

  Now that I know the queen can no longer read my thoughts, can no longer touch my emotions, I need to explain. To apologize. He needs to understand.

  I run from my room, urgency flooding my veins, tunneling my vision so I can hardly see. I don't even know where to go.

  It doesn't matter.

  I'll find him. I always do.

  Asher is in the dungeon.

  I searched the halls for almost an hour before I found myself stepping down, deeper into the mountain below the castle, circling round and round while the sunlight disappeared overhead. My eyes adjusted to the dark as my legs continued to descend, pulled by an invisible force. Now I watch him from the shadows, body curled behind an archway, stopped by fear.

  What can I say to fix things?

  Are there any words that might make it right?

  Will he ever forgive me?

  These are the thoughts that freeze my body, questions I am not sure I am prepared to answer, answers I am not sure my heart can bear to hear.

  He looks the image of defeat, surrounded by a halo of candlelight. Shadows stripe his body, only enhancing the fact that he is behind bars. With knees bent, his torso curls into his legs while his head hangs limp in between, staring at the floor. The subtle rise and fall of his back is the only indicator that he is alive. Everything else seems numb.

  "Asher?" I call, voice carrying loudly through the silence.

  He does not stir.

  I close the space between us, hands grasping cold iron rods, wishing I could break in and touch his warm skin, kiss it back to life.

  "Why?" he whispers, harsh.

  I know what he's asking, and I won't play games with his emotions, not anymore. "I refused to let you die."

  His hand slams against the floor, a slap that echoes off the walls.

  I flinch.

  "That was never your choice to make," Asher growls, head whipping up, fury evident in his bloodshot eyes laced with bright red veins. Dirt covers his face, caked by sweat. His luminescent blond hair is flat, pressed down so I can almost see the grooves where his fingers have rested day after day, holding his heavy head.

  He still looks beautiful to me. And I ache to wrap my arms around him.

  "Asher," I murmur, pleading.

  "No, Jade, it was my choice. My destiny. And now, everything I've spent my entire life preparing for is gone." His tone grows quieter, hushed. A subtle change spreads over his face. His jaw loosens, unclenching, bringing his cheeks down, unflaring his nostrils. The angular squint around his eyes disappears, smoothes over, and then reappears, softer, downcast. Asher's head falls back, knocking against the wall as his gaze travels to the ceiling.

  "I failed," he whispers, as though he's forgotten I'm even here. "I couldn't do it."

  I reach a hand through the bars, as though to touch him, to comfort him. "It'll be okay—"

  "How?" He interrupts, voice dark. "The rebel army marches on a queen who is very much alive, who will capture them, who will destroy them all because of me."

  I hesitate, but then push through. I need to be honest, for once in my life. "Actually, they're already here. The queen already has them under her thrall."

  He sniggers, an exhale drenched in sarcasm. "Great, just great. Everyone is trapped, and the only person who can free them is stuck down here behind bars." He shrugs, looking around the small space, shaking his head. "What a hero I turned out to be."

  "You're wrong, Asher," I urge. "You are the hero, and that's why you couldn't shoot. You're too good a person. These people don't need a hero."

  He meets my gaze. "Then what do they need?"

  "They need a killer." I take a deep breath. "They need me."

  The air between us suddenly evaporates, sharpens, and the distance disappears. His eyes seem no more than an inch away, expanding, taking over my vision as they entrap me, hold me captive. I can't breathe. I'm growing lightheaded under his scrutiny, under the intensity of his stare.

  "What do you mean?" He says each word slowly, separately, emphasizing each syllable.

  "I'm going to kill the queen," I whisper, worried that somehow, somewhere, she can hear me.

  Asher's brows pull together tightly as his head cocks slightly to the side. "Why? What will that get you? I'll just…" His eyes begin to widen as his voice trails off. "What did you do?"

  My mouth goes dry.

  Asher stands, slowly, stretching like a panther hunting his prey. Each step he takes causes my heart to pound, to jump so that it might burst from my chest.

  "Jade," he presses, movements still calm, purp
oseful. I release the bars, stepping backward, out of reach until my shoulders hit the damp wall behind me and I am stuck, pinned down by the daggers shooting from his eyes.

  "I'm sorry, Asher," I whisper. Perhaps this is my real betrayal. The thing that will hurt him most. But I need to tell him. I need him to understand.

  He grips the cell, shaking. "What did you do?"

  "I never wanted to hurt you," I say. Now that I've started, the words bubble up like a great storm, spilling from my lips. "I just wanted to save your life, and I knew, I knew there was something we were missing. Some route we were too ignorant to see. And I was right. You don't have to die, Asher."

  I pause, unsure if I can continue, what will happen if I do, if I finally tell him the complete truth.

  "Say it," he whispers, desperation straining his voice, roughing up his words. Pain pulls at his cheeks.

  I give in.

  "Queen Deirdre is going to make me her heir. I'm going to take your place."

  I thought he might yell.

  Might scream.

  Might fight.

  But this is worse. This pervasive silence. Asher stops, mouth dropping open in disbelief. The color drains from his face. Fingers that were holding tight to his cage release, drop slowly to his side. Then he dips, bending at the knees until they land hard against the stone floor. All his will has been stripped free from his muscles.

  "She knows a spell that will transfer the magic to me," I continue, needing to fill the void opening wide between us. "I'm not sure what it entails, but in a few days' time, it will be done. I'll kill the queen. I'll kill myself. And then you and everyone else will be free."

  "No." He looks up, standing, pacing. "I won't let you."

  "You can't stop me." I shake my head, apologetic.

  "I will. I'll…" Asher's eyes roam the walls as though searching for the answer, flicking up and down, side to side, landing back on me. "I'll tell her your plan. I'll tell her what you're going to do."

  "And what would that accomplish?" I ask, even toned. "The queen will kill me for betraying her, and you'll still be stuck down here."

  "Then I'll kill her before she can complete the spell," he urges.

  "How? From your cell?"

  He opens his mouth, closes it, runs a hand through his hair. "I'll free myself. I'll rip the door off its hinges. I don't know, but I'll find a way."

  "Asher." I sigh, closing the gap between us. Gently, I grab his hands, breathing in the heat from his fingers. Electricity flares below our skin, sparks the air around us, as though at any moment we might catch fire. I wish that I could erase the bars between us, that I could curl into his chest. I crave the feel of his arms circling my waist, holding me close, making me forget everything except us.

  A smile spreads my lips, crinkles the corners of my eyes. I wasn't sure if I would ever touch him again. But now, as passion burns through our palms, I wonder how I ever thought a flame this strong could fade out.

  Our lips wait torturously close.

  "I never should have brought you to the rebel camp," he confesses. Anguish softens the words until they feel fragile, about to break. "It's all my fault. If we never met—"

  "Don't." I squeeze.

  He ignores the plea, finishing his thought. "If we never met, you never would have put yourself in this position."

  I dip my head, search for the eyes he has pointed at the ground. I find them. I see the stars again, glittering from the candlelight, dancing just for me.

  "I would have." And I sense the truth in the words as I say them. "Somehow, someway, I would have ended up here. This is what I was born to do, Asher, I can feel it. But because I met you, I can say that I lived before I died. For a brief few weeks of my life, I felt. I grieved. I yearned. I—"

  Loved.

  But Asher's lips have stolen the word, snatched it from the air, buried it deep within his heart.

  I don't mind.

  It belonged to him anyway.

  It lives in this kiss. Tangible in the caress of his fingers as they travel up my spine, grip the back of my neck and pull me closer. Alive in the velvet brush of his lips as they tease, drift away, smash closer, a tantalizing tide. Palpable in the bliss of our sighs as they rise, sheltering us the from the real world waiting just a few stories above.

  Cool metal presses into my cheekbones as I strain to be closer, to feel my body touch every piece of his. The firm muscles in his biceps, the soft hairs tickling the silky skin of his neck. I use my hands to explore because I know in my heart that this is goodbye, that this is the last time the heat from his lips will fill my veins, surging through me like an immense wave, removing all thought, all control.

  Asher knows it too.

  His kiss becomes frantic, pecking my chin, my cheeks, my nose. Every inch of my face that he can touch becomes wrapped in those lips that I do not want to leave behind. I don't even realize I'm crying until the taste of his mouth grows salty. My body starts to tremble, my breath to shake. I wobble, unsteady on my feet.

  Asher stops, leans back, face wet with my tears.

  "We'll find a way, Jade," he whispers.

  I lick my lips, trying to regain control over my wayward senses. "There is no other way, Asher. You know, you were prepared to do it yourself."

  "Well," he says, breathing deep, eyes growing dark, "I was an idiot."

  The tension breaks. We both release sad laughter, weak, lined with bitter joy. I sniffle, swallowing the grief back down to fester unseen until I cannot ignore it anymore.

  "Yes, you were." I grin, blinking the water from my eyes. "But not about this."

  "There was a gaping flaw in my plan, something I didn't realize until you flipped it around on me." He brings his palm to my cheek, holding it, wiping the water away. "I don't want to live without you. So you see, there has to be another way."

  "Not so easy to be the one left behind, is it?" I tease. Joking makes everything seem easier. Less real. Less permanent.

  Asher shrugs, putting his brave face on for my benefit. "What do I know? I didn’t even realize that a new heir could be chosen, could be spelled into the role. Who says there's no other way to release the magic back into the world?"

  "Asher," I say, more serious. I won't let him sway me from what I must do. I don't want him to believe in a false hope. I of all people understand how dangerous that can be. Wishing for freedom, my unattainable dream, is what brought me into this whole mess in the first place.

  "All I'm saying is don't do anything stupid. We'll figure it out together."

  I could fight him. Force him to understand. But I don't want to.

  In my soul, I know that these are the last few precious moments of alone time Asher and I will ever share. The only ones we'll ever have that are not tied up with hidden truths, shaded by lies. Our hearts are open, honest. No darkness lurks in the corners of our minds.

  For the first time, all our secrets have been bared.

  And Asher loves me regardless.

  I loop my fingers between the buttons of his shirt, tugging him gently closer. He understands. The humor in his gaze fades, turns to a smolder. Lavender fire blazes to life in his eyes.

  I melt, putty in his hands.

  I hardly recognize myself as I look in the mirror.

  The queen has pinned my hair elegantly away from my face, folding and sculpting it into a waterfall cascading down my back. The makeup I have ignored for the better part of a week glistens in the candlelight. Black liquid lines my eyes, gold highlights glitter my lids, soft rouge sparkles along my cheekbones, and ruby red paints my lips. A maid has helped button the pearls stretching down my spine, cinching the red folds of my dress tightly around my waist.

  I look like a princess.

  I look like her.

  There is one difference though. I smirk as my hand travels to my thigh, lightly patting the gun I've strapped across my muscle. The ceremony is tonight. Queen Deirdre still has not told me what it entails, what I must do. All I know is that I am
to meet her in the west tower at sunset.

  The servant has been gone for an hour, giving me time to steel my nerves, to contemplate every terrible thing the queen has done, to ready myself to take her life and then my own. My heart flutters painfully, fighting against my mind, telling me there might be another way. Hopeful.

  I turn from the mirror, squashing that desire, ignoring it. Pink streaks have just appeared outside my window, stretching lightly across the sky, shadowing the blue, turning it darker. Under any other circumstances, the scene would be beautiful, a real life painting I might admire. But tonight, it is the last pieces of sand dropping through the hourglass, telling me that time has run out.

  Just as the thought enters my mind, a knock sounds lightly on my door. With one deep breath, I expel my tension, bringing a warm excited smile to my lips.

  "Good evening, my lady," the servant says, bowing deeply as I open the door.

  "Good evening," I reply, voice light.

  Without another word exchanged, he begins to walk down the halls and I follow. After a few nights in the castle, I am used to the routine. We do not speak—we're not supposed to. I tried at first, but quickly realized how uncomfortable the man became, face red, hands squirming, lips drawn thin.

  Tonight, I enjoy the silence, letting my thoughts wander to Asher, to my mother, to the rebels. Everyone I will help with my sacrifice. The images form a warm bubble in my chest, fighting the fear knotting my stomach, helping control it.

  The bubble bursts as shouts flicker down the staircase looming overhead. I begin to climb, step after step, circling up the steep tower. My feet wish to run, but I must stay calm, I must keep pace with the servant. The higher we climb, the clearer the voice becomes.

  I close my eyes tight, biting my inner cheeks to keep from whimpering.

  Asher.

  "Mother!" His voice echoes in the space around me, bouncing off old stone. "Mother, what are you doing? Don't do this!"

  I try to tune him out, to pretend that I don't care, to keep up my front. But with each new outburst, my hands tremble. For some reason, I didn't think he'd be here. I hoped we could do the spell without him. I thought maybe he wouldn't need to see me as a monster, as a killer.