by Ana Calin
“Aunt Miriam taught me a thing or two about healing, but I’m no expert.” I smile at her while I dab her wounds with a fresh face towel.
“I’ll be right back.” I run to the door, holding the folds of my dress up to make sure I don’t stumble over the hem. As expected, guards stand to attention as I pull the heavy door open, but there’s also a young servant boy ready to attend us. He jumps up from his little stool when he sees me. He’s fae by the looks of him, the tips of his spiked ears protruding through his ashen hair. The color marks him as lesser winter fae, or that’s what Aunt Miriam told me. Bright gold and silver mark the higher fae, white the middle aristocrats, and ashen the lesser ones.
“I’m gonna need disinfectant and pain killers,” I tell him in a friendly tone. Every underdog is my friend in here. “Do you think you can help me with that?”
He stares at me confused. “I’m sorry Milady. We don’t use those things here.”
Edith laughs, drawing my attention. “This is the supernatural world, Arielle de Saelaria,” her voice echoes over from the bed. “You heal people with the power of your magic, or with spells. Your nature, your hands, and your words, those are the only medicine you’ll get in the supernatural realms.”
“But what about magic plants? Aunt Miriam said witches—”
“Witches are inferior to fae, they need ‘tools’ like herbs, bones and voodoo puppets. We’re higher supernaturals.”
“If I may suggest,” the young servant says, drawing closer to the door as if avoiding that the guards hear. “Feel the magic in your body, Milady,” he whispers. “If you are who Milord thinks you are, you have a wealth of it to tap into.”
I can feel magic rippling deep in my core, more than I felt in the mortal world, like it’s more tangible, but it’s still not close to what the fae lore says fae kind can do.
“I feel some magic inside me, but I can’t seem to bring it out.” I squeeze my eyes shut, as if cutting back on my sense of sight would strengthen my other senses, especially the sixth one I need in order to tap into my magic.
“Don’t try to grab it,” a powerful male voice says. My eyes snap open. It’s the Lord of Winter, standing right in front of me, the servant boy making himself small beside him. The guards’ heavy armor clamors as they kick their heels, the metallic sound echoing against the hallway. He must have formed here out of thin air, otherwise the guards would have reacted sooner, right?
“Just feel it, let it bubble up to the surface,” he says in a deep calm voice like the dark depths of the ocean.
I want to scream at him and beat his chest for what he put Edith through, but I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.
“Negative feelings poison your magic.” The more he approaches me, I instinctively walk backwards. He’s like a block of muscles, with vambraces of silver wrapped on his big forearms. His torso is naked, but a sort of mail is wrapped around his waist, fading upwards into his skin like the scales of an ice dragon. It changes color from light blue to silver as he walks, and it appears to be crawling slowly up his body. Wait, don’t tell me his flesh is turning into armor. He’s beautiful and terrible, like an angel of war.
“I can feel both your hate and your awe, Arielle,” he says, now so close I can feel the cold coming off his skin. “Neither is good for your powers.”
“And what am I supposed to feel,” I say through my teeth, “when I have a cruel bastard like you in front of me?”
He breathes in, his large chest rising to the level of my forehead. Everything about him radiates power, being a king is in his blood—if that is what flows through his frozen veins.
“This isn’t about me,” he says. “It’s about helping Edith.”
“Edith wouldn’t be in this wretched situation, if it weren’t for your sadistic treatment of her.” Unable to control myself, I hit him in the chest with the sides of my fists. They crash into a body that is as hard as an iceberg. I can hear the young servant gasp in the background, terrified that I dared charge on the great king of the Winter Realm.
But the king simply grabs my hands in his own, so large that they swallow my fists completely. His silver vambraces glisten in the cold morning sunlight.
“I suggest you stop that, it’s not going to help anybody.”
“How could you keep her there in her state?” My eyes blaze into his. He stares down at me without blinking, but there’s something more than fury in his icy blue eyes. Something like curiosity, and maybe even surprise.
“You can ask all the questions you like, just not yet. If the girl’s state is so important to you, why not start to work on it right away.”
My blood boils despite the cold he emanates.
“How can I feel anything but rage when I look at you?”
“You’re a complex, sophisticated being, Arielle. Your feelings are never simple, they’re a cocktail of emotions. Reach for something that feels pleasant, or, if that’s not possible, just less provoking than rage and hatred.”
My eyes are hot with the need to punish him as they glide over the chiseled features of his face, his sharp cheekbones, his square jaw. He’s a vision of cold masculinity. I feel all sorts of things as I look at him, and I feel like I have to make a choice—hate him, or drool over him.
“The only thing I feel when I look at you, Great King, is the need to punish you for what you did to both Edith and me.”
“Does that need feel good to you, or does it give you a bad vibe?” he says in a calm, composed tone.
“It feels good.”
“All right then, tap into it.”
I furrow my brow. “You mean you’re okay with that? With knowing that I hate your guts?”
“You cannot control your own feelings, how could I or anyone else ever control them?” Instead of offense, I hear ancient wisdom in his voice. He frees my fists from his big hands, and places them on my shoulders. His touch is surprisingly warm, even though he radiates cold.
“Now harness your power.”
“It’s hard to do while I have you in front of me.”
“Then feel free to face away.”
He doesn’t have to tell me twice. I turn to look at Edith, who’s now sitting on the queenly bed under the canopy, her patchy rags not covering her as much as they should. But it seems she’s too taken with Lysander Nightfrost to care about that. She stares at him like she’s just seen a god.
“Edith.” I snap my fingers in front of her eyes.
“I’m sorry. It’s just that I’ve never seen the King in the light before, not in this form.”
“In this form? What do you mean?”
“In his body, as fae. I only ever saw him in his full magic shape.”
“It’ll help if your senses make contact with the ocean,” Nightfrost interrupts her, opening the big high windows. The glass must be especially strong, multi-layered, because the wild sound of the ocean hits me like an avalanche as soon as that barrier is out of the way.
I close my eyes, my body tensing, trying to contain the surge of power inside me. It flares in my core, and great joy fills me. I open my arms, letting the magic mount along with my joy until it fills me to the brim. It feels fantastic until it becomes too much, and I start to lose control.
“God, I won’t be able to contain it.”
“Channel it through your limbs to your fingertips,” Lysander says behind me, his tone calming, like a balm. “Keep your hands down, let the excess magic flow to the ground first, you need to dose it well before you use it on your patient.”
Aunt Miriam told me that all fae are natural healers, through their magic, but I was never able to harness so much of it in the mortal world, not even enough to heal my own wounds; well, maybe that, but only occasionally. Aunt Miriam was the one who took care of me when I got sick, and I even saw a doctor once. But she did everything to avoid that because of the differences in anatomy and chemistry between half-fae and full humans.
Now the magic flowing through my limbs demands all of my attent
ion. When it starts to crackle in my palms I jump, but Lysander comes behind me, giving out energy that balances me. Silver strings start flowing from my fingertips.
“Now,” he says gently. “Place your finger over a wound, and direct your healing magic to it. You’ll know which the healing magic is.”
Strangely, I can easily pick from the cocktail of powers that twist and turn inside my core. They’re wild, untamable, and I know I wouldn’t be able to contain them if it weren’t for the huge fae king behind me keeping things under control.
“Go ahead,” Edith whispers, her eyes still moving between Lysander and me. I can sense the young servant by the door staring as well, standing still, but with a deeply interested stare.
It’s not long until all of Edith’s wounds are closed, and she lies on her back, falling asleep under Lysander’s guidance. He turns to address the servant.
“Bring food, essences and oils for fragrance therapy. It will help young Lady Snowstorm regain her strength.”
“How come I don’t even feel tired,” I whisper as I stare at my hands. I can balance my power better by the minute. “How is this possible?” I spin on my heels to face Lysander, and I find him measuring me from head to toes. I become instantly self-aware, feeling naked in my pale blue dress. The corset pushes up my breasts, causing them to form quite a sizeable swell, and it squeezes my waist to create a contrast. If I felt like a princess the first time I put it on and spun around in the mirror, I feel like a deer in the headlights now.
“Your powers are growing quickly,” he says. “I’m going to have to contain your magic now, or it will overwhelm you.”
“Contain it? No, not now that I just discovered it. I have to learn how to use it, please.”
“Don’t worry, you will still have command of it, but you won’t have to deal with so much at once.”
“You mean you’ll limit my power.”
“You’re new at this. Things could get out of control.”
I cross my arms, not entirely unaware of the way my breasts are squeezed forth, pushing up. A sapphire necklace covers my chest down to the line between my breasts, but his ice-blue eyes still fall on them. It sends a ripple of pleasure right down between my legs—don’t tell me I like being admired by this beautiful monster. I stare harder into his eyes to get a better grip on myself.
“You got me out of the dungeon, but I’m still a prisoner, aren’t I?”
“Of course you are.” He glances over my head at the quietly sleeping Edith. “But it’s up to you to keep this prison cozy and luxurious for both you and your new friend, so I advise that you refrain from antagonizing me.”
I press my lips together. I guess I can’t afford to piss him off.
“Why did take me out of the dungeon?”
“I’ll let young Lady Snowstorm explain that to you. I think you’ll take it better from her than from me. Besides.” He gives me a once over, one that feels intended to be cold and forbidding, and yet it’s filled with a curiosity that seems new to the great King. “This is probably the last time we speak to each other in person. I’m the king of the Winter Realm, and you are to address me as Milord from now on, as all my subjects do.”
No shit. I scoff and jut out my chin. “As far as I remember I’m a water fae—half-fae—so you are not my king.”
“Arielle.” He holds out his hands for mine, his energy tugging at me in a way I can’t resist. I unlock my arms and place my hands in his. They’re really small in comparison, which makes me feel things I shouldn’t. I never realized I was into super big guys, or is it his powers, playing tricks on me? “You went against supernatural law, and it cannot be blamed on lack of knowledge. Your Aunt Miriam taught you well—and you would surely like me to keep believing that, otherwise she’ll end up in my dungeon, too, for having neglected to teach a half-fae the rules.”
“She taught me everything,” I react quickly. “I made every decision knowing full well what I was doing.”
“You used magic like love spells to fulfill humans’ wishes in exchange for material gain. That puts you in my power for punishment. So you see, it’s in your best interest to acknowledge me as your king, and do your best to get in my good graces.”
You gotta be shitting me. The bastard is cocky as fuck.
“Don’t you judge me. I did what I had to do to survive. I have student loans, and Aunt Miriam is working herself to death, in her human form, to pay them off.”
“You could have done the same to help her with those debts. Work, like a human. Get a student job. Instead you chose the easy way.”
Anger stains my skin, making me burn everywhere. “You think you understand it all, don’t you, entitled bastard.” At the door, the terrified young servant gasps. He returned with the oils and fragrances. “A normal job wouldn’t have brought in half the money. Aunt Miriam wanted me to focus on my studies, so I did what I thought was best to help her with the burden—really help her, not just scrap a few pennies together. But you would throw children in the dungeon for breaking a plate.” I look back at Edith. “Look at her, only a teenager for a fae. Whatever she’s done, it can’t be so bad that she deserves being imprisoned and made to suffer like that. You’re a monster.”
“I didn’t put Edith Snowstorm in the dungeon,” Lysander says quietly. He looks over me at the sleeping Edith. “I didn’t even know she was in there until the Wards came to me with the information she’d given them on you. But I will find out who imprisoned her, and why.”
I open my mouth to say something, but he focuses his cold blue eyes on me, his irises filling with the glow of bright ice. A new magic wraps around me, this time not made of frosty vines and thorns, but small silver tattoos like the writing on runes. They emerge from my skin and start snaking over my body.
“What the hell,” I shriek, jumping away from him, panicking as I look down at myself.
“The chains for your magic,” he explains. “They won’t be half as unpleasant as the last ones, in fact, they may feel good on your skin, because they also protect you from the magic of other fae. Not many here are your friends. But you’ll only be able to use your own magic at a minimum.”
“Why must you limit me like this?”
“I can’t let you run around with that kind of power. I couldn’t do it even if I trusted you. You’re a water fae with the ocean just outside your window, basically a toddler with a loaded gun.”
I do my best to hold his glowing gaze. “Milord, a lot has happened in such a short time, I must say I’m confused as fuck.”
The servant drops the oils he was pretending to arrange on the bedside table, while Lysander cocks an eyebrow, raising his strong chin.
“Excuse my language, but it’s the way it is. One thing I need to know, and that I need to know now is why you took me out of the dungeon, and started to treat me like a friggin’ princess?”
“The time will come for answers.”
“Well, forgive me, if I can’t just quietly wait for such a time. I’m worried about what’s coming at me.”
He hesitates, the large chamber filling with silence and the sound of the ocean.
“One thing I can promise you, Arielle,” Lysander says, the silver symbols caressing my skin while he speaks. “You will be protected. I will keep you completely safe for as long as you’re in my power.”
“Oh. You won’t be keeping me indefinitely?”
Instead of answering he turns around, and heads for the exit, his shiny blond hair falling in beautiful waves to his broad, muscular shoulders. My gaze keeps glued to his back, his muscles snaking under his white-bluish skin. He’s the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen, so I suppose it’s normal to stare. It’s not like I should be ashamed of myself, should I? Not even for staring at his muscular ass as the mail pants hug it. Strength, ice and metal, the combination stirs me.
I watch King Lysander Nightfrost leave. He leaves a trail of winter scent behind, and a strange emptiness in my lower belly.
The young se
rvant stares at me with big eyes for moments after Lysander exits the chamber. The boy is unassuming for a fae, but he’d definitely be a beauty among humans, even if he looks a bit of a nerd.
“What’s your name?” I inquire in a quiet voice. He glances over his shoulder at the guards outside.
“Come on, it’s an innocent question.” I smile, leaning my head against the marble bedpost.
“Pablo, Milady.”
I frown. “That’s a human name.”
“I was born in the mortal realm, like you.”
“Oh.” My eyebrows rise as I make the connection. “That means you’re the result of broken rules, too.”
“Your wit is quick, Milady.”
“Did the King punish you, too when you were found?”
He shakes his head. “He’s strict, but not absurd. It wasn’t my fault. It was my parents’.” He looks anxiously behind him. “I’m sorry, Milady, but I’m needed.”
“Wait.”
But he doesn’t. He shuts the door behind him a little too hard. I do need to know why Lysander freed me from the dungeon, because I’m dead certain he has a secret agenda.
I sit on the bed next to Edith, caressing her forehead and her long hair that’s slowly turning from white to silver as she regains her healthy glow. So she is higher fae after all. She looks peaceful, sleeping deeply, like she probably hasn’t slept in a very long time, tormented by the cold and pain in that dungeon. My stomach churns at the thought that someone had the heart to put her in that place.
Aunt Miriam comes to mind, too, and worry rises in my throat. Did I manage to convince Lysander that she’s not to blame for anything I’ve done? I swear to God that if he hurts her, I’ll make him pay, if it’s the last thing I do.
Edith stirs, and I draw closer to her.
“You’re fine, sweetheart, you’re all right.”
She opens her soft brown eyes, murmuring something. When it finally makes sense, my blood starts to boil.