“Your heart isn’t strong enough to beat on its own,” Noel spoke, glancing at Hale and Douglas.
Nodding, Douglas said, “The witch offered us a choice. One of us could give you our heart, or…” His lips curved into a smile, his scarred and bearded face lighting up as he spoke to her. His eyes, a deep blue, probably matched hers now.
Hale finished, “Or we could each give you a piece.”
“Call us selfish,” Noel went on, “but we figured the latter would make everyone happy.”
“A piece of your hearts,” Frost whispered, feeling something swell in her chest. Did her heart feel so strong now because she had their strength, a tiny piece of each of them inside of her? She wanted to cry—and this time, they would not be tears of sadness or despair. These would be tears of happiness and joy, and for once, they would not stick to her face.
Someone spoke behind her, tentative, “Not to interrupt your touching reunion…”
Frost closed her eyes for a moment, the tears drying up before they arrived. Of course. The general. This would not be a happy end for all of them. She had killed their king, and now she must face the consequences. Heaving a sigh, she turned to face him, saying, “You want retribution for you king. I understand.”
Noel, Hale, and Douglas started to argue on her behalf, but the general held up a gloved, armored hand. He reached for his helmet, lifting it off his head and holding it aside. He was young to be a general, perhaps less than ten years her senior, no older than the others were. He was handsome in a clean-cut way, his eyes a vivid green, an eye color uncommon in Wysteria.
“I’m afraid not,” the general spoke, bowing his head to her. Behind her, the guys began to grumble for different reasons entirely. Perhaps they did not appreciate the way the general was looking at her—but Frost kind of liked it. It made her feel…normal, almost. “Stentar was a tyrant, but I am no king slayer.”
Frowning, Noel remarked, “You kept us alive on purpose. You wanted us to find you, to attack.”
The general said nothing to that, only inclining his brown head slightly. “Fenburn has fallen upon hard times since he began his reign. He had no heirs, no wife. He was the last of his bloodline. Fenburn is effectively ruler-less…” He paused, his green eyes lingering on Frost. “…unless the one who slayed him wishes to take his crown. Such is the way with war, and make no doubt, Stentar would have waged war on any kingdom he could get his hands on.”
Frost felt her stomach grow…nervous? Excited? Surprised? “Surely you’re not saying…”
The general dropped to his knees before her, inclining his head. “I’m saying you have an escort, my Queen—provided you agree to return with us to Fenburn.” His jade eyes rose, meeting hers, and she felt warm for a whole different reason.
A queen? She was not made to be a queen. She’d spent the last ten years in the snowy wilderness. There was no way she would be fit to rule…no way she’d last a week on the throne, wading in royal politics. She knew how things were in Wysteria, but in Fenburn? Things must be different.
Frost glanced over her shoulder, meeting the eyes of her loves. She could not go to Fenburn if these men were not with her. She would not hesitate to turn the general down and go with them wherever they wanted, now that she had no winter magic, now that she was whole.
“Anywhere you go, we’ll follow you,” Noel spoke. “After a quick jaunt to the guild, that is. Resignation is never easy.” The grin that spread upon his lips made her smile in response.
“All right,” she said, turning her gaze back to the general. Her fingers toyed with the Jewel, and she held it up to the sun, its yellow rays piercing through its semi-translucent shape. “First, let us return this to its rightful owners.”
It was only one thing on her list of things to do, and yet it felt right.
This, these men, was where she was meant to be, who she was meant to be with. This was the start of a new journey, a journey full of light and hope. A journey that held no cold, no darkness, and no snow. This was the beginning of a new chapter in her life, and for the first time, she was ready.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The witch did not accompany them as they made their way around the lake. Frost could not get over how much Wysteria had changed, especially so quickly. All the green, all the life—life she’d thought she’d ended all those years ago.
This…this literally changed everything.
The guilt she’d let swallow her, the regret she’d felt as she lived her life alone in the snowy wilderness. Everything Frost had felt changed the moment the Jewel came out of her. Now she was a strange kind of hopeful, happy in a way she’d never been before. Thrilled and excited for what the future held; until now, Frost had never looked to the future. With her men, with a kingdom—how could she not look forward now?
It wasn’t so much that she wanted to be a queen. She didn’t. Ruling a kingdom was not something she ever wanted to do, even while growing up. Being normal had been the only thing in her sights. Now that she was indeed normal, or as normal as she could ever be, perhaps being a queen wouldn’t be so bad. And being a queen of a kingdom she liberated from its horrible, menacing, war-mongering monarch might be even better.
Even though Frost was surrounded by a group of guards, the loves of her life, she couldn’t help but feel alone now that the witch was gone. Blue had been with her for years now. Blue had been her one constant companion, along with the cold and the snow.
The closer the city grew, the more anxious her stomach became. Noel walked beside her, and she tossed a look at her assassin. “I feel as if I’m going to be ill,” she muttered, to which he simply reached for her hand. He’d kept down his facial mask, so every part of his handsome face was visible.
“You will be fine,” he said. “We’re all here for her you.” He tossed a look to Douglas and Hale, who each nodded in support.
Frost didn’t know if she truly would be fine, but she said nothing else as they marched away from the grassy field surrounding the lake and into the capital city. Everyone was wandering the streets, looking confused. They were the ones who hadn’t crowded the bridge, who didn’t fit in the great hall in the castle. They came out of their homes and their shops, wondering just what had happened.
She couldn’t help but wonder if they had any memory of their time locked away in ice, or if they didn’t remember at all. If they just blinked awake, as if they hadn’t missed years.
When the citizens saw the soldiers wearing Fenburn armor, they started whispering, and when they saw Frost in the center of them, the whispering stopped. Their eyes widened. They knew who she was; they had to.
Their group headed to the bridge, where a large mass of people stood, all glancing at each other. There were those who’d lost their lives since the castle was the heart of the storm, those Fenburn soldiers who Stentar had forced to die in search of the Jewel, but most of those bodies were in the lake below now, floating in the water. Frost would have to tell her parents about them.
The crowd parted, allowing Frost and her men through. She knew her way around the castle, and when the guards saw her, their mouths dropped open. Frost was no longer the young adult she was before; she was now a full-blown woman, and she was here to see two people she never thought she’d see again.
As they approached the great hall, Frost felt her insides twist in a thousand different ways. She held onto the Jewel, refusing to let anyone else hold onto it, in fear that they would lose it or try to take it as their own.
The great hall was a cacophony of noise, and at the head of it, she spotted her parents. The king and queen of Wysteria, wearing their regal clothes and their crowns. Her father still held onto the crown he was supposed to give her all those years ago. Though Frost wore her sparkly dress, she felt as if she did not belong here, not after what she’d done. Her mother and father were talking to each other, worried looks on their faces, but the moment the crowd in the great hall parted, they locked eyes with Frost.
Frost’s
heart caught in her throat, and she gulped as she glanced at her men, at the soldiers. She gave them a little nod, walking away from them, heading to where her father and mother stood. Her mother’s lips parted, but she said nothing, meanwhile her father only looked on, his eyebrows creasing as if he could hardly recognize her.
Frost didn’t blame him; she could hardly recognize herself.
She stopped when she stood a few feet in front of them. Her hands felt clammy; her fingers fiddled with the Jewel. Frost lowered her head, speaking to the ground, “I’ve brought you the Jewel of Wysteria, to return it to you. It’s kept me alive for this long, but I…I no longer need—”
The final word was swept out of her mouth when her mother rushed forward and hugged her. “Eliora,” her mother cooed, “we never cared about the Jewel. You were always our priority, not some old treasure.” Her arms tightened around Frost, and Frost felt herself melting even more than she already had.
And then, then her father wrapped his arms around them both, and Frost couldn’t hold it in any longer. Tears stung her eyes, and before she knew it, she was crying.
These were not the parents she remembered. Were all of her memories twisted in hated and self-abhorrence?
It was a long, long while before the hug ended, and when it did, when her parents glanced at the great hall, at the Fenburn soldiers and the mercenaries who were her lovers, Frost spoke through her happy tears, “There is a lot to explain. Amara is safe—she’s actually married to the king of Springvale, and I…” By the winds of winter, how was she supposed to explain everything that had happened?
She would.
This was an ending to her story she had never truly expected, and it wasn’t even an ending. It was the beginning of a new chapter.
Epilogue
The absolute last thing princess Tara wanted was to go to bed. Alas, being nine, she did not have much control over it. Her fathers had tucked her in, each of them placing a kiss upon her head, which she promptly wiped off, because ew. Parent germs.
“I want a story,” Tara whined, and the men glanced at each other.
“She might be busy with Rox, but—” Douglas spoke, running a hand through his beard. Tara loved his beard because it tickled her face when she hugged him.
Hale ran a hand through his short hair. Tara always teased him on it, mostly because it was so white it was like snow. Snow was not something they got in Fenburn often; Tara had only seen it once, and she’d played it in long after it had faded into mud. “We could try.”
“She can never say no to me,” Noel spoke. “I’ll be right back.” He gave Tara a wink before slipping out of the room.
Beneath the sheets, Tara’s toes curled. She couldn’t wait for her mother to come, because her mother always told the best stories. She loved hearing about her fathers’ journeys, about their jobs from their pasts, but her mother’s story was always the best. Full of snow and second chances, and princes who could steal anyone’s heart.
After a few minutes, Noel returned, her mother in tow. Her mother’s hair was a pretty gold color, its long lengths pinned back to her head under the small brown crown resting on top. Tara’s hair was a similar hue, although hers was in a braid. Her mother always said she used to style her hair the same way. She wore a thin nightgown, and she gave Tara a gentle smile as she sat on the edge of the bed.
“So,” Eliora spoke, “I hear someone wants a bedtime story?”
“Tell the one about the Ice Queen,” Tara cried, giggling when her mother tossed her an exasperated look.
“Now, you know that’s a long story. Are you sure you want to hear the whole thing? Maybe it would better if I only told you a part of it, and we saved some for tomorrow—”
“No!” Tara shouted, noticing the smiles on her fathers’ faces. “All of it!”
“What a spoiled brat,” her mother laughed, reaching over and messing up her hair. “Wonder where you got that from?” She tossed an amused look to her fathers before relenting. “Fine, I’ll tell you the story of the Ice Queen…again.”
Tara closed her eyes, anticipating listening to her mother tell a story that was familiar to her. The way her mother’s words were spoken, she could paint a vivid picture of it in her head. She could imagine the world so cold and so full of snow, could picture a castle covered in ice. The princes riding in and giving the ice princess help, but ultimately, it was she who had to save the day, not them. Ultimately the ice princess became the ice queen, and her story would be told until the end of time itself.
It began like every other fairy tale. Eliora spoke softly, “Once upon a time…”
Once upon a time, there lived a princess with magic. This magic was slowly draining her, and even the love from her princes wasn’t enough to save her. The world fell into turmoil and despair, the skies full of gloom, and it was up to the magical princess to make everything right.
Once upon a time, a princess became a queen, and she ruled alongside her princes, sharing a heart with her true loves.
Once upon a time…well, everyone knows what happens next.
The story never truly ends, for every end is only a new beginning.
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Ice Queen Page 20