Storm Princess 2: The Princess Must Strike

by Everly Frost

  I turn the mirror face down and leave it on the chair. Half reach for it again. Take a step back before I do.

  “Why don’t you want to look at yourself?”

  Cassian stays in the shadow of the door. I didn’t hear him open it.

  “I’m scared of what I’ll see.” There I go again, acting like he’s my friend. I press my lips together, wondering what he’ll do, but he doesn’t move.

  “You have nothing to be afraid of.”

  But I won’t see the storm anymore. There it is. My greatest fear. For such a long time, I lived with lightning running across my skin, lighting up my eyes. Now it’s gone and I don’t want to see its absence. I don’t want to see that little girl who used to tug on her braid when she was nervous.

  He steps into the room, into the light, crosses the distance with quiet steps, and picks up the mirror, turning it to face me. Maybe it’s fear or uncertainty or something else, but I don’t look away.

  He tilts the mirror so the first thing I see is my neck. My skin is paler than I remember, but that would be because I haven’t been exposed to sunlight in four weeks.

  The mirror reveals my chin and lips next, then my nose and frowning eyes. When did my face get so expressive? When did my eyes become so pale?

  Like my skin, my lips and eyes are glossy, translucent. Radiant in a way that I can’t describe. Who is this elf looking back at me? She’s definitely not what I expected. The storm is gone but a different glow has taken its place. Something I can’t place. I press my finger to my lower lip, tracing the outline, tilting my head to examine my skin.

  The mirror shivers. My attention snaps to Cassian, to the slight clench of his jaw, but he hasn’t otherwise moved. He fixates on my finger, still pressed to my lips. I remove it slowly but his focus remains on my lips. With minimal movements, he reaches for my other hand, running his palm across the back of my hand, curling my fingers around the mirror handle so I’m left holding it.

  “It’s yours,” he says, his voice thicker than normal.

  He tucks his wings closed, spins, and leaves me holding the gift.

  Later, I crawl into my hammock after Llion flies me up. I’m colder than ever and desperate to bury myself in the blankets. My fingers are icy and my toes are popsicles. Llion didn’t say anything when I stepped onto his feet, but he winced when I pressed my freezing hands against his back. For a few blessed moments, his body heat warmed me, but then we reached my bed and I had to leave his warmth.

  I double the blankets over, curl my knees to my chest, and pull the covers all the way over my head before I fall asleep.

  For the first time in a long time, Baelen’s voice echoes in my dreams. Memories flash through my sleeping mind. He’s holding out his hand to me in the hallway of his childhood home. I’ve thought of a way for you to beat them. He’s running his fingers through my braid on the cliff’s edge, releasing my hair into the breeze before he kisses me. May I have your permission?

  He’s covered in flames. Acid rain drips upward into the sky. Marbella, baby, you’re in trouble.

  You’re running out of time.

  Wake up.

  A force as great as thunder blasts through me. The impact washes across me, right to left, lifting my body upward and casting it hard against the side of the hammock. Every bone shifts, released from gravity, weightless, and then snaps back into position as the blast passes by.

  I scream out the pain, eyes squeezed closed, my scream shrieking through the Cavity.

  The force wasn’t me. I didn’t do it. And it wasn’t Baelen. I’ve combined my power with his enough times to know what his power feels like. The blast came from outside of me. From something far too powerful.

  I cling to the swinging hammock as the aftershock rages through me, whimpering into my blanket. “A heartstone. Another heartstone.”

  Llion rears up from the hammock next to mine, launching himself across the distance. “Lady Storm!”

  Tears leak down my face. I can barely open my eyes to look at him. “I felt it, Llion. I felt it.”

  Roar’s voice is urgent from the other side. “What’s wrong?”

  “What happened?” Both Welsian and Iago are awake. In fact, it sounds like everyone is. Lady Storm! My name, the one the gargoyles have given me, echoes through the other hammocks as gargoyles wake up all around me.

  I swallow and try to breathe. “Howl has another heartstone. I felt it like an explosion.”

  Murmurs of anger and despair filter through the listening gargoyles. Llion leans over me, but directs his question to Roar. “Which heart could it be?”

  “It’s impossible to know, but at Crimson Court, the miners working in Mount Lightsworn said they were close to finding one. Howl’s promise would have given them a reason to unearth it. I’m sorry, Llion. That’s your wife’s home.”

  Llion’s shoulders slump. His wings form a protective curve around his torso. “Lightsworn’s heart is the strongest one Howl could get his hands on… This is the worst thing that could happen…”

  Now that the initial shock and pain have faded, another sensation slams into me.

  I’m cold.

  Burning and freezing at the same time. This is the first time I’ve woken up in the night since I got here and the deep freeze I find myself in is agony. Falling asleep was hard enough. Being awake is far worse. I shudder under the blankets, distracted by a light glowing beyond me.

  I force my eyes all the way open. What is that?

  I frown at the ceiling. Ice crystals cover it in a radiant white pattern glistening in the Elyria light. The nearest web has also turned white, its glowing strands resembling pure moonlight. The crystalline glow extends within several feet of my hammock, but not beyond. Further out, the ceiling is clear and the spider web is silvery-blue like usual. The ice crystals have only formed around me.

  It’s too cold to lift my arm out of the blanket, but I raise a finger beside my chin, pointing at the ceiling. “What is that?”

  “Ice,” Llion says, before returning to his conversation with Roar.

  “Yes-s-s.” I interrupt him, my teeth chattering. “But how did it get there?”

  He takes a closer look at me as all conversation dies down around me. For some reason, my question has dropped us into silence. He glances past me, maybe at Roar or Welsian. “We thought you knew.”

  I stare at him. “That I’m surrounded by ice?”

  “It’s been the same ever since you got here. Every night. We thought it was a storm thing. You always sleep through like it’s normal…”

  A shiver rocks my body. Llion leans closer to me, concern washing away his puzzlement.

  I say, “This is not a s-s-storm th-thing.” I want to be asleep again. I don’t want to be awake. Now that I am, the cold is eating me from the inside like acid. “Llion… I am… r-really c-c-cold…”

  Icy shivers spear through my spine. My breath frosts. If what they’re telling me is true, then I’m creating the cold. It’s not the natural environment here. But I don’t know how or why I’m doing it. I certainly can’t make it stop.

  “I-I’m so cold… it hurts… I d-don’t think I’m okay…”

  Llion touches his palm to my forehead. His eyes shoot wide. He lurches backward. “There’s something wrong. We need to help her—”

  The beat of a pair of strong wings interrupts him.

  Llion rotates in the direction of the sound, blocking me from seeing who it is, but I recognize Cassian’s growl. “What’s going on?”

  Nobody answers. The silence is thick.

  Llion says, “Lady Storm needs help.”

  Cassian leans around him. I catch a brief glimpse of his sapphire eyes, narrowed and assessing, taking all of me in with that quick assessment, before Llion shifts sideways in a protective gesture, challenging Cassian. “Not your help.”

  Cassian snarls. “Get out of the way.”

  Llion pulls in closer to me, Roar closes in behind me, and Welsian and Iago draw up with them. It
must be awkward maneuvering around the hammocks, but I’m surprised by how quickly my friends surround me in a protective circle. They spread their wings to cover the gaps between them, wingtip to wingtip forming a defensive wall. So far, none of the guards have approached us. Only Cassian.

  Llion’s response is swift. “You’re not going anywhere near her.”

  Cassian’s voice sounds like it’s being grated through something sharp and unpleasant. Tense, but determined. Struggling to be patient. “I’ve ordered the guards to stay on the ground. I knew she was in trouble because I heard her scream. I’m not going to hurt her. She clearly needs warmth and you don’t have the wingspan to help her.”

  They don’t budge. Their wings don’t part.

  Cassian’s voice shifts closer. He must be right up in Llion’s face by now. “Did you hear me? I’m the only one who can help her.”

  When Llion still doesn’t move, Cassian exhales a sigh of exasperation. “Oh, fuck it… Llion, if she dies, Howl will remove my head from my shoulders. With my own bone lash. You know it’s not an empty threat.” He pauses. “Is that enough to convince you?”

  I try to speak, but it’s difficult. I force sound through my throat. “Llion… it’s okay… Let him through.”

  Llion breaks the wall of wings, but only to check on me. He’s so worried it hits me like a fist. Finally, he moves out of the way, but doesn’t take his eyes off the General. Cassian ducks under Llion’s hammock and ascends directly next to mine.

  He swiftly checks me over. “You need body heat. I need to get in there with you and then I’m going to wrap my wings around both of us to keep the warmth in. It means sealing you in with me.” He pauses and I can’t even begin to read his expression: desperately blank. “May I have your permission?”

  May I have your permission?

  His voice blends with the memory of Baelen’s. A sob tears out my chest and tears spring to my eyes but as soon as they slide from my eyes, they freeze. Tiny, frozen pearls burn my cheeks.

  Cassian’s eyes widen. He doesn’t wait for my answer. I’m not sure I can even speak to give it.

  He rips off his shirt, kicks off his boots, and slides into the hammock beside me, lifting the blankets so he’s under them with me. His boots thud on the ground far below as he spreads his wings carefully in each direction, sliding one over the top of us and the other all the way under the hammock and around to the other side.

  His wings overlap and settle against their own edges, gently forming a cocoon. Sealing us in just like he said. Under the blanket, he rapidly undoes the buttons on the front of my shirt, pushing the material apart. I’m naked underneath but he doesn’t pay any attention, supporting my torso and head with one arm as he leverages my shirt off with the other, sliding it down my arms and over my stiff fingers.

  Hooking his upper leg over mine, he draws my hips up against his before pressing us chest to chest and gently fitting my head into the crook of his neck. His big arms close tight across my back, covering as much skin as he can.

  I’m icy but he doesn’t wince once.

  He says, “Focus on breathing.”

  It’s difficult and not only because of the cold. I haven’t been this up close and personal with any male other than Baelen. For the next hour, my breath frosts against his skin, tiny crystals form before my eyes, and then… they melt. Like tear drops sliding against his chest, my breath freezes and warms, freezes and warms, over and over, one breath at a time, melting and evaporating. His skin changes color every time my breath touches it and where my body presses against his, turning icy pale, returning to normal, then icy pale again, minute after minute, second after endless second until… finally…

  I sense his breathing deepen. Relax. He didn’t show any deliberate signs of being affected by the cold, but now I realize how furious his breathing had been as the freeze seeped from me into him. He was fighting the cold for both of us.

  I close my eyes, greedily drawing on his warmth. Everything around us has turned completely silent. I’m not sure if that’s because the other gargoyles are sleeping or maybe listening to make sure I’m okay. Or maybe the seal formed by Cassian’s wings blocks out all sound.

  I find my voice for the first time in an hour. My vocal chords are stiff but I manage to speak. “I’m sorry if I hurt you.”

  He stiffens. There’s a long silence before he responds. “You’re apologizing for hurting me.”

  “I know it hurt.”

  “It did hurt.” In the same breath, he says, “You are very confusing.”

  “I guess I’m very confused right now. I don’t know why this is happening. I don’t deliberately do this every night. I didn’t even know about it.”

  “It’s only when the moon shines.” His arms slide up and down against my back as he shrugs. “It’s hard to miss the connection.”

  “But… why?”

  He doesn’t answer.

  I tilt my head back a little. Funny thing, there used to be a permanent sneer on Cassian’s face, but I haven’t seen it for a while. When did that change? Over the last four weeks, I’ve heard the stories of almost all of the gargoyles in this place, stories about their families, friends, loved ones, children. I haven’t heard his.

  I say, “Tell me about the Hideaway Clan.”

  “There’s nothing to tell.”

  “There’s always something to tell.”

  He says, “Not this time.”

  “Howl threatened you, but that’s not the reason you’re helping me. There’s more to it than that.”

  His breath catches and he freezes up again, but he can’t exactly run away. Not if he wants to keep me alive.

  My turn to shrug. “Or you could tell me about your clan.”

  He’s silent. I don’t think I’m going to get an answer to either question. I return my head to his neck to show him that I won’t ask again. Whatever part of me was producing the cold has receded, but it’s still there, deep somewhere. It will come back. I’m not safe until the sun rises again. I don’t want to push him away given that he’s my lifeline right now.

  I’m not exactly sure what makes him change his mind about speaking, but he says, “Hideaway had the strongest wings. Even stronger than the King or Queen. They called him Hideaway because the color of his skin could change and camouflage against any rock and he could, well, hide someone in his wings and… protect them. Humans walked straight past him, never knowing he was there. His wings could even block deep magic.”

  That doesn’t sound like the kind of thing that would cause a whole clan to be treated as lower than the others. “Then… why?”

  He knows what I’m asking: why did the Hideaway Clan become servants?

  “Something went wrong. Maybe he hid the wrong person. Maybe he didn’t protect someone he should have. We don’t know why, but the King became very angry with him. To make up for it, Hideaway offered up his clan to serve the King for the rest of our days.”

  “So that is how you came to be a servant in the King’s home.”

  He turns my statement back on me. “Why did you serve in the House of Rath?”

  “All of the minor elven houses serve the major ones. We don’t own homes or land. The House of Mercy has always served the House of Rath.”

  “But you became the Storm Princess. Not them. They wouldn’t have been very happy about that.”

  Is he grinning? I tilt my head back to see, startled at the way Cassian’s smile changes his face. It’s lazy, confident, with a hint of challenge.

  I say, “Well… I guess… I was the first Princess from a minor house.”

  “What about your former master?”

  “Rordan Rath? Baelen’s father avoided me while I was Princess.” Even though he was the only male allowed near me. “I thought it was because I nearly killed his son. But now I think it was for my protection. He tried to keep me separated from elven politics for as long as he could.”

  I shift a little, feeling like I have to defend Baelen’s house. �
��The House of Rath isn’t like the other major houses. They are warriors. Were warriors, devoted to protecting others. I guess it’s a different kind of servitude. Not cleaning floors, but preventing death. Most of them died when the Storm first struck… Rath land sits on the border between our countries. It was hit first and the devastation was… so many elves died…”

  I clear my throat, wondering why I just told him all of that. And whether I should have.

  Of all the things I just said, Cassian hones in on the one thing I don’t want him to. “You almost killed Baelen Rath?”

  “I… uh…” My thoughts whirl. What was I thinking talking about my past? It’s dangerous to tell him any of this. I keep my answer to the minimum. “The storm chose me but he was standing close by at the time and it struck him too. He was badly hurt.”

  “That’s why he shares the storm’s power.”

  Because I poured lightning into Baelen while the Storm poured lightning into me. “Yes.”

  Cassian is quiet for another moment. “There’s something I want to tell you and then you’re going to stop asking questions and I’m going to stop answering them and we’re going to sleep.”

  “Okay?”

  “Growing up in King Roman’s home, I had access to a lot of information. Most of it, I gave myself access to, if you know what I mean.”

  “You mean you sneaked into places you shouldn’t have?”

  “I found out something I wasn’t supposed to know. When the King died, he took the secret with him. Nobody else knows. Not even Howl.”

  If I was worried about telling him things I shouldn’t, then what he’s about to tell me might make us scarily even. I glance around, wide eyed. If the other gargoyles weren’t listening before, they are now.

  “They can’t hear us,” Cassian says, another rare smile gracing his face. It changes him, relaxes his mouth, lights up his eyes in mesmerizing ways. “We’re sealed in here. I have the same wings as Hideaway. I’m the only gargoyle in my generation whose wings block everything—magic, sound. The only reason we’ve had this conversation is because nobody else can hear us.”