Chapter 24 Neve #2

My ice helps me some; the soothing chill of the frost against my back keeps me grounded. Around the pain, it's a comfort, like Ban is beside me as we move. I use my magic to keep from tumbling off the mountainside.

This isn't like when Ban and I fell down the mountain because I blew out the side of the cabin. I don't have as much control of myself this time, and my determination is hyperfocused on the fact I’ve seen my father.

A powerful blast of wind sends me spiraling to one side, and the ice plateau I create doesn’t support me. My magic wanes with me, my bare legs growing heavy as I struggle to keep pace.

Snow slams into me, forcing my body in the other direction through the wind. I suddenly feel a solidness behind me, and I know it’s Ban from that calming chill that surrounds me.

“You can't fall off the mountain,” he hollers into my ear so I can hear him over the roar of the storm. Panicked, I look ahead and see Father’s form waiting for us, his horns glowing in the night.

Horns.

My brain seems to short-circuit when I realize he is sporting horns. Where did they come from? What if…

“Keep going, Neve.” Ban’s voice banishes my thoughts and I snap my attention to it.

For the first time in years, someone is supporting my decision. I’m no longer surprised it’s Ban.

“Can you see him, too?” I ask. Part of me worries I’m chasing a memory.

“Yes,” Ban replies, shoving something over my head. I blink against the material, realizing it's a shirt. My stiff arms work through the sleeves, and when I can see him again, there’s a pinch between his brows. And he’s shirtless. “Your dress isn’t going to survive the storm.”

I suppose that’s probably true, but it seems like such a minute thing compared to everything else.

His shirt hangs on me like a dress, wide enough in the neck that it slips off my shoulder, the sleeves falling well past my fingertips, and the skirt sinking past my knees.

It’s a distinct reminder that Ban is well over a foot taller than I am.

Looking ahead, I see Father still waiting. He must be real if Ban sees him.

“Lead on, my queen,” Ban says, his voice dancing over my heart. I can hear him so clearly, I nearly forget about the wind, his cool breath lingering on my skin. “The others are behind us, but they might not be able to handle the storm. It’s getting colder.”

He has a point, but that’s all the time I give myself to think about it before I’m running again. He stays closer this time, and I try not to overthink it as we keep climbing.

Finally, Father stops around the next bend. I haven’t paid much attention to how far we’ve climbed. With the wind and blur of snow, I’m not entirely sure how far up the mountain we are.

Ahead, he stands silently in the snow, waiting for us. Ban doesn’t try to stop me as we hurry over, Father’s silent form lingering against the cliff.

For a single moment, happiness strikes me. Even in the dim light and snow, I recognize his sharp features and dark hair, the steady set of his shoulders, and the proud way he stands. My voice slips into the wind, afraid if I try to get any louder, he’ll disappear. “Father.”

He gently bows his head, the horns seeming to glow in the snowfall. “My queen.”

It is my father. It’s the voice I never imagined I would hear again.

I throw myself into him, crushing his body to mine for fear he’ll vanish if I let go. But he’s real and solid beneath my touch, and the familiar hug he gives, that only a father can, makes me choke back a cry.

“Neve,” he says again, so soft I think even Ban won’t hear, “you are everything I hoped you would be.”

Clinging to him, I try not to completely lose myself. This isn’t the reunion I wished for, hugging my father, who’s suddenly sporting horns, on the side of a mountain during a snowstorm. But if it’s all I’m allowed, I’ll cling to every moment I get.

Far too soon, he pulls away. The shadows are thick, and I wish I had anything to illuminate his face.

I can kind of see it in this strange, blue-tinted form, but it’s not enough.

I want to imprint him to memory all over again.

The details I’ve forgotten like if his eyes still crinkle when he laughs, his mannerisms, the way his hug feels.

Father taps against the side of the mountain, and to my surprise, a cavern opens up. I stare at it as a long, foreboding tunnel reveals itself, a blueish light deeper inside the mountain.

Shifting back, I feel Ban closer behind me. If it bothers Father, he doesn’t let on. “Come. Our time is short.”

Is it? Despair threatens to overwhelm me, and I hurry after him, with Ban behind me. Stepping into the cave is a relief after the wild winds and falling snow, but it’s surprisingly more frigid.

“It’s colder here than out there,” Ban comments. “I don’t think either of you can handle it.”

There’s a sigh, and I realize it came from my father, who’s walking away from me. I start to follow, but he seems to be moving faster. The next voice that speaks is Zarev’s, and while it surprises me, I should have known he would be able to follow our little train easily.

“We’ll shadow hop down. It’s far too cold. We’re going to hide in the cave for a time and give Odette some relief.”

That’s all I hear as I stalk after my father, taking a sharp turn, and step into a large room.

I don’t know what I expected from the interior of a mountain, but the tight cave widens into a grander space, Father walking with purpose deeper into the room.

I follow him. Ban right behind me, and when I gasp and stumble to a stop, he grips my arm to help me balance.

Father moves to stand next to a figure in the same blueish hue that surrounds his spirit.

But the figure he stands beside is a giant, her body ten times that of the former King, and somehow the space is large enough to accommodate her size.

She doesn’t wear a crown or carry a weapon; she simply stands there, watching.

Near the two of them is a girl. Her blonde hair is frozen solid, her eyes closed, and her dress looks to be terribly aged. She’s pressed to the wall, a thick layer of frost across her body. From what I can see, she doesn’t appear to be moving.

“May I present to you, Glacia,” Father says, stealing my attention once more. “The Spirit of Winter.”

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