“You can and you will. Be the leader I should have been.”
He reaches up and cups my cheek, his own cheeks so hollow, his face gaunt as the potion worms through his blood, killing him breath by breath.
“You are the best part of my very long life, my winter witch.”
He speaks those words with his last breath, and as he exhales one last time, he falls still.
"No! No! Alaric, please don’t leave me." Sobs wrack my body, and I let the pain crash through me, lost in the sea of my grief. "This isn't how it was supposed to end."
I weep against his chest, devastated over the loss of a love that tore through me like a blizzard, laying claim to my heart even in such a short time.
“Come back to me,” I plead. “Please, come back.”
But the only answer to my pleas is the fire that crackles on, warming my own cold and broken heart.
Chapter 9
At some point in the night, my sobs exhaust me and I fall into a restless sleep. In the first moments that I awaken, I struggle for a moment to figure out why I’m on the floor draped over a sleeping Alaric.
But the moment I sit up, reality crashing back in again, and I remember.
Alaric isn’t sleeping.
He’s dead.
I’m alone.
And while I’ve succeeded at my mission, I’ve failed my own heart.
Instantly, my eyes well with fresh tears, but then I frown as I catch sight of the view outside the window. Sunlight, unfettered by clouds or snow, streams in hot enough to saturate the room. As proof, I realize the fire is out again and this time, the room hasn’t gone cold in the absence of its flame.
If anything, it’s stuffy.
Warm.
Hot even.
I rise, reluctantly leaving Alaric's prone form to cross to the window, and when I see the landscape beyond, I gasp and sink into the chair, dumb-founded.
Winter is gone.
The snow has melted, and in its place is spring.
Fresh soil, thawed and offering new growth in the form of tiny green buds, dot the ground. In tall branches, birds perch, singing their happiness at the transformation. Underneath the canopy of treetops, squirrels chase one another up the trunks of freshly budding trees.
Everything feels hopeful and happy and alive. It's a miracle.
I can only imagine what it’s like in Willowdale.
The dancing and laughter and celebrations. They will know I succeeded. They will know I saved them.
They just won't know the price I had to pay. The prince Alaric had to pay.
I glance back at my love lying still on the rug behind me, and my heart withers all over again.
I stand and return to his side, dropping to the floor to run my fingers over his cheek. Fury burns inside me.
“This can’t be it,” I cry, angry at the goddess and at the witch who cursed him. Angry at myself for not finding another way. Angry at him for drinking the damned poison.
“He’s not who you think he was,” I scream at the witch from his past.
And though she’s long gone, I am compelled to prove it in the way only a broken heart can.
With the pad of my thumb, I run an invisible line over his cold lips, then I lean in and press my own lips to his, sealing the end of our story with the kiss we never had.
His lips are cold and unmoving against mine, my tears flowing and mingling with our lips, and when I pull away, I only cry harder at the loss of him. Of what kind of ruler he would have been had he been given a second chance.
I'm so lost in my own heartache I don't notice it at first.
The sudden rise and fall of his chest.
Did I imagine it? Surely grief can do strange things to the mind.
I still myself and hold my breath, watching with the fresh birth of hope, a hope that hurts down to my soul.
There.
It happened again.
I'm sure of it. His chest moved.
"Alaric?" my voice is hoarse and comes out in a whisper.
And then he gasps, inhaling a sharp breath, and I realize it’s real.
His chest rises, and I hear the distinct thump-thump of his heartbeat as he exhales loudly.
His eyes open and his gaze lands on mine.
I'm too stunned to do anything but stare.
He smiles, his eyes crinkling at the edges.
“Hello, witch,” he says, and I shriek, throwing myself on top of him.
“You’re alive.”
“Not for long if you crush me,” he says against my hair, and I laugh, pulling back to look at him. “Sorry. Can you sit up?”
With my help, he sits, and when he reaches for me, I scoot in close, reveling in the natural warmth of his skin, the golden glow of his cheeks.
“I thought you were lost,” I tell him.
“I did too.”
“What happened?”
“I don’t know. I was somewhere cold and dark and then . . . you kissed me. The witch from my past appeared before me, like a specter, and she said you were right. I had changed and then, she sent me back." He pauses to study me, squeezing my hand. "You broke the curse, Adara. I’m human again.”
He guides my hand and places it over his chest, and I marvel at the heartbeat I feel there.
“I can’t believe it. You’re really human. No more blood cravings?”
“Not at all. Though, a plate of bacon and eggs sounds absolutely divine right about now.”
I laugh and throw my arms around him again, happiness filling me.
“It’s a miracle,” he says, and I remember the plea I sent to the spirits of the house.
“It’s a miracle for us all.”
Whirling at the familiar voice, I see my parents standing together by the window. Their forms are wispy, their bodies ethereal as they smile back at me.
“Mom! Dad!” I jump up and run to them, relieved that I can feel their arms around me, though faint.
“Hello, darling.” My mother kisses my cheek, and the sensation leaves my skin tingling when she draws away again.
My father rests his hand against my cheek. “We’re so proud of you,” he says, and I blink back the tears that blur my vision.
“I miss you,” I say.
“We miss you too, but you’ve done well,” my mother says. She glances at Alaric who has come up behind me. “You’ve shown much growth of spirit, Prince.”
“Thank you. I am sorry for what I did to you both.”
“You’ll learn from your mistakes,” my father says sternly. “Use them to become a more compassionate human. A kind king who cares for all his people equally and values love and family above riches.”
“Yes, sir, I swear it.”
“A man who also values my daughter,” my dad adds gruffly enough that my mother laughs and pokes him.
“I think he’ll do just fine,” she says, eyes twinkling at Alaric and then me.
“Will you stay here?” I ask them. “There’s so much I want to tell you.”
“We will always be with you, in your heart,” my mother says. “But we’re free now. And we must go find our own peace.”
“I understand.” I hug them again. “I love you both so much.”
“We love you too, Ada. Tell Grandmother we send our love.”
“I will.”
I step back and they both float toward the window, passing through and out into the sunshine before disappearing in a fractal of sunlight. Behind them, other spirits follow, each of them winking out as they step into the sun’s warm rays.
I turn to Alaric, smiling as he reaches for me and sweeps me into his arms.
“There’s just one more thing we need to do to truly mark this miraculous event,” he says.
“What’s that?”
“I’d like to kiss you again, only this time with a beating heart and a tongue that works.”
I laugh as his lips capture mine, soft at first, then deeper as my body melts into his.
And this time our kiss fe
els like the beginning of a story rather than the end.
Chapter 10—Epilogue
Moonlight reflects against the white flowers that hang from the recently erected archway. Their silvery glow frames the dais, and I am mesmerized by the soft light as I slowly make my way toward it.
All around me, the people of Willowdale smile and murmur their well-wishes as I pass. I nod at them one by one, overjoyed to share this beautiful moment with my people. Our people.
When I reach the front of the gathering, I spot the face I’ve been searching for, and my nerves ease at the sight of him dressed in such finery. He’s filled out a bit since breaking the curse. His hair is longer and his arms are more toned thanks to the ability to form new muscle. He’s no longer frozen in a time that moves forward around him. Mortality looks damn good on him too.
“You look absolutely beautiful in the moonlight,” he whispers when I get close.
“Save it for after the ceremony, ice boy.” Grandmother’s admonition is loud enough to send the first few rows of guests snickering in their seats.
I press my lips together to keep from laughing and step onto the platform to join my fiancé and the priestess who will read our vows, my grandmother.
When I’m in position, she nods at the crowd, and I tear my gaze from Alaric long enough to look out over the gathered guests.
In the darkness, it’s hard to see their faces, but then a single light pierces the night, the candle flickering bravely. A moment later, thousands of flames join it, illuminating the people and the garden in which we stand.
Grandmother clears her throat and I turn back to her, appreciating the simplicity of her emerald gown as she stands before me. She’s not wearing a cloak tonight. No one is, thanks to the heat of the summer evening. Even after months of warmth, I’m still not tired of it and enjoy watching the people come up with new styles of dress that are a significant departure from the layers we’ve been hiding under until now.
I was sure Alaric would ask for an afternoon wedding, so enamored with the sun he is. But he insisted on a moonlit ceremony. “The keeper of all our secrets,” he reminded me.
As Grandmother begins to read the vows that will join Alaric and me, her voice is melodic and firm. "We are gathered here tonight to bear witness to two lights uniting as one. Each light, alone, is nothing. But together, we can outshine the sun."
I smile up at Alaric and listen as she instructs us on our oaths to one another and to our kingdom.
We take turns echoing her words, promising one another to always be true, and strong, and above all, to love.
My long dark hair is pinned with flowers, my long tresses undone and trailing down my back in soft curls.
It reminds me so much of another night, long ago, when I began this journey. Though the events that transpired between then and now are nothing like I imagined, the sentiment in my heart remains the same. To chase away the cold with warmth. To chase away hate with love. And to protect the people of Willowdale and all who reside in the kingdom of Avondale.
In this, Alaric and I vow to always do our best.
“Tonight, we bear witness to Alaric and Adara in more than a marriage,” Grandmother says. “We bear witness to them as king and queen of a kingdom. As is ritual, we coronate them both and anoint them as rulers of this land using the sacred waters of the Ice Rivers.”
She hands me a cup and continues.
“Adara is the flame born under the Cold Moon. Alaric is the atonement and the absolution, made whole again by his purity of heart. Together, they are the protector and ruler of our people. May the goddess bless them both.”
"May the goddess bless them both," the villagers respond.
At the end of the ceremony, Grandmother places a crown on each of our heads and kisses our cheeks. Then she turns to present us to the crowd. They cheer and Alaric winks at me.
I laugh.
From behind me I hear Grandmother say, “Well, what are you waiting for, your highness? You may kiss your queen and your bride.”
Alaric doesn’t have to be told twice and even dips me as he seals the vows with a kiss before our witnesses.
The crowd cheers even louder at that.
Then Grandmother steps between us, lifting our hands to the air as she says, “Long live the king and queen of this realm!”
The crowds echo her cheer until I’m overcome by the cacophony of support and love.
Grandmother waits until they’ve quieted and says, "This year, we celebrate the Summer Solstice like we never have before. Today we enjoyed the heat of the sun on our faces, and tonight we bask in the warmth of the midsummer night. Drink, Eat and Be Merry, good people. Blessed be."
“Blessed be!” The crowd cheers as Alaric takes my hand in his and leads me down the aisle and out of the garden.
He weaves through the castle and doesn’t stop until we’ve reached a very familiar door.
“What are you doing?” I ask, breathless as he pushes open the door that remains unlocked always these days.
“I need a moment alone with my bride,” he says, pulling me into the room and spinning me until we’re face to face.
The air in here is as stuffy as always, and for the hundredth time I wonder why we don’t tear down the walls and allow the plants unfettered access to the sun and the warmth it provides. But Alaric refuses to do anything to change the greenhouse, claiming it’s the only place inside the castle that he can stand in without feeling the sadness of his life before he met me.
Now, he cups my face in his hands and kisses me deeply.
“I needed that,” he says after leaving me gasping for more.
“We’re married now,” I tease, the taste of his lips a delicious tincture on my mouth. “You can have that anytime you want.”
“Can I? I’ll ask you to remember that when we’re knee deep in crying babies and you want nothing else to do with me anymore."
I laugh. “Knee deep? Is that what you picture?”
His arm snakes around my waist and he pulls me close, swaying in a sort of dance. Outside, the music has begun. “I picture you,” he says, silver eyes full of life, “with me. Always.”
My lips curve into a joyful smile.
“And I know you hate when I say it, but I can’t help myself,” he says and I groan, already knowing what’s coming.
“Alaric, please, it’s our wedding day, for the goddess’ sake.”
“I know, but my gratitude can’t be silenced today or any other day.” His expression turns solemn, but behind his eyes, there’s mischief and humor. “I will be forever grateful to you, my love, my darling Adara, that you loved me enough to kill me.”
I roll my eyes, and he laughs at his own joke that isn't even technically true since he killed himself, but he ignores me when I point that out. “You keep up with the comments and jokes, my dear, and one day you might just drive me to do it for real.”
His laughter ends in another kiss, and I wonder if anyone has ever been happier than I am in this moment; the winter witch and her cursed prince.
AND THEY LIVED HAPPILY EVER AFTER. THE END.
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Mad Girl: Locked Up Prologue
I never knew what I was, until the day I discovered what I was not.
The ripples of the river Le Seine send shimmers of light reflecting over the dark depths, and I can't avert my eyes
from the temptation to see, to know.
I try. With everything in me I try. For several footsteps I keep my face forward, my eyes following the lines in the cobblestone, my mind focused on the sound of my heels clicking against stone. The chill of fall forces me to pull my wool coat around my shoulders, to tighten my red scarf against the breeze caressing my skin as it brushes through my dark hair like cold, invisible fingers that send shivers up my spine.
This is my favorite time of day in Paris; twilight. Studying here for the past year was a dream come true—a dream turned nightmare. As the evening shadows dance with the remnants of afternoon sun, the sky turns shades of purple and red. I never tire of it, of the vision of colors swirling together like one of Monet's paintings. As much as I love spending my days at the Sorbonne studying art, and my afternoons at the Louvre, gazing at the greatest paintings in the world, nothing can compare to the masterpiece mother nature creates nightly.
At least, that's how I used to feel. Until that night.
Nothing has been the same since that night.
An older couple passes me on the bridge, the woman smiling in my direction as she wishes me a good evening. I try to smile back, but my face freezes in the effort, the weight in my heart too heavy to give the fake gesture much sincerity.
A teenage couple stands at the foot of the bridge kissing, laughing, whispering to each other. A business man paces near them talking on his cell phone. All of the voices—French, English, Italian— blend together—into a music that turns sinister the longer I listen.
I stop walking and turn toward the water with pain and reluctance, but also with a compulsion that leaves little choice.
When I peer over the side of the bridge and into the dark murkiness, at first I see nothing unusual. I smile for the first time that day, a real smile, and almost laugh out loud at the relief that courses through me as the ball of anxiety that has been tightening in my chest slowly uncurls.
But my relief is short-lived.
At first it appears just a trick of light, something explainable by science. Anyone might see it if they tilted their head just so.
The Winter Witch Page 6