Chapter 25
The first few seconds were like falling through an endless black hole before I landed in a pile of something fluffy and white.
Sputtering from it, collecting on my lips and scattering my hair, I scooped some into my palm.
It looked like hundreds of tiny Styrofoam pieces.
When I tipped my palm to discard them, they floated away rather than falling, and some stuck to my skin.
Squinting skyward, I expected to see clouds mixed into gray or blue, but an ample distorted light was there instead.
“What in the—” I started, slumping forward and halting at the sight of a snowman—the perfect kind, with three proportionate snow balls, a carrot for a nose, coal for eyes, and buttons, red hat, red scarf, the whole deal. Next to it was a cozy cottage, but it wasn’t mine.
Swallowing a coarse lump forming in my throat, I reached for the house and gasped, recoiling my hand.
It wasn’t wood or stone, it was smooth like plastic.
With a shaky arm, I stretched my fingers toward the snowman next, expecting it to be wet and cold.
Tears blurred my vision when the generic material pressed to my skin. It, too, was plastic.
“Oh, good, you’re finally here,” a woman’s voice boomed, thick with a British accent.
I covered my ears from how loud she sounded. It was almost as if she were standing on a ladder, using a megaphone pointed down at me. Turning circles, kicking the fake confetti snow around me, I fell back on my ass when a giant face appeared, distorted like the sky.
The woman cackled at the sight of me falling, and a humongous finger tapped the distortion, shaking the ground beneath me. I grabbed the ground for purchase, terror wrenching my spine.
“Isn’t it ingenious?” The woman asked, her face disappearing, but both hands appeared on each side of me now, and she lifted me.
No. I wasn’t. Am I in a fucking snow globe?
“I thought it fitting considering what we all are,” the woman added, laughing as she turned the globe upside down.
The snowman and house stood still, but the snow I sat in fell to the bottom, taking me with it. I furiously flapped my wings, floating in the middle of the globe in case she turned it again.
“Damn. I forgot you had those.” She turned the globe again, and once she rested it on a hard surface, I eased myself back to the fake snow. “But look at you. Your wings are out, even your ears. Good for you, darling.”
“Who are you?” I yelled, clenching my fists at my sides.
The woman leaned back and flicked the globe, making it shake, but I widened my stance to keep from falling this time.
“No need to shout, my word. Are you trying to give me a headache?” The woman rubbed her temple. It was hard to make out her features from the distortion of the glass, but her eyes were blood red, her hair long and grey, and something black streaked her cheeks.
Saying nothing, I sprinted to one side and outstretched my arm when the glass got closer. I pressed my palms to it, feeling up and down. It really was a glass globe without the usually added water solution—an exclusion I was presently grateful for.
“I’m surprised dear old Jack hasn’t mentioned me by now.” The woman propped her elbow on whatever surface the globe was on, resting her chin in her palm.
My core fluttered at the mention of him—my mate. I pressed a hand to my chest and whirled to face her. “You know Jack?”
“Of course, I do. Where in blazes do you think you are?” The woman flicked her fingernails around the globe, and I could scarcely make out their pointy length. “You’re in the winter kingdom, my dear. And I’m its Snow Queen.”
A million thoughts raced through my mind at once, so obtrusive that I had to grip my skull to get it all to slow down. Queen? I thought Jack said there wasn’t a queen. Did she want Jack for herself?
Growling in frustration, I sprinted to the other side, beating my fists against the glass once I’d reached it. “I don’t understand. Jack said there is no queen.”
The woman scoffed. “Yes, yes. Jack is the Winter King, in the head palace of this realm. But—” She moved her face closer and I backed away, alarmed at the sight of black ooze running down her cheeks and dripping from her chin. “—not for long.”
She didn’t want Jack. She wanted what he had.
A deep sigh pushed from my lungs. Jack hadn’t told me everything. I wanted to be angry at him for it, but all I could process at the moment was the sinking realization that I might never see him again, to be furious with him.
“Who are you?” I asked again, desiring to know more than simply the Snow Queen.
The woman removed something from her head and rested it near the globe. It had black, spiked designs, and the material glistened from the light source hung overhead. “My name is Diedre. And I’m the rightful heir to the Winter throne, not Jakzair.”
She’d said his name with such venom it made my skin crawl. With my fingertips pressed to the glass, I walked the perimeter of the globe, frowning when I completed a full circle. There was no means of escape.
“Jack said he was born into it. Created for that sole purpose. How could you possibly be its rightful ruler?” I shuffled my feet through the white confetti, hoping by some twist there was a trap door or something.
Diedre slammed her fist near the globe, making it wobble, and I stumbled forward, steadying myself against the glass.
“He was. His sole purpose was to convince the people that he would be a more righteous leader. I swear, you order one too many executions and suddenly everyone sees you no longer fit for the throne.” Sighing, she ran her fingers over the crown she’d rested on the table.
“The people voted for Jack, and I received this kingdom, on the outskirts of the realm. Smaller. More glum. All but forgotten.” Diedre smacked the crown with a sneer, launching it away, and making it clang to the floor.
What was I supposed to say in this instance? Executing people. The anger I could feel swelling from her very essence. The people were right about Jack being a more benevolent king. Diedre shouldn’t be allowed near it, but I also needed out of here.
“That’s a hard go, Diedre. But what do I have to do with any of this?”
Diedre’s crimson eyes blazed before her face pressed to the glass, a lethal fingernail pointing at me through it. “You are my undoing as much as you are my salvation, Sylvaria. He’s been searching for you for centuries, and I honestly hoped he’d find you so you would reject him.”
Moving to the opposing side, I pressed my fingertips to the glass, coursing my magic through it.
Frost coated it, the chill settling in, but it wouldn’t crack as I’d hoped.
I kept silent. The thought of Jack’s expression when he suspected I wouldn’t go through with this tore at my gut, let alone the idea of how he’d look if I wholly rejected him to his face.
“It was all going according to plan, but no, the little winter faerie had to go and develop feelings for the king. Swoon over him.” Diedre gagged and pinched the bridge of her nose. “My word, you even fucked him.”
Feelings. Had I?
“I put a curse on Jakzair, you see,” Diedre continued, yanking me from my thoughts, entirely focused on her again. “Before it, he had more time to search for his mate every year, but I’m impatient, so I halved it. Because if he found her, surely it wouldn’t be enough to convince her to be claimed.”
With each passing word from Diedre, with each breath of confession, the coal building in my throat grew larger. My limbs were numbing, and I slid down the glass until I met with the confetti snow.
“And when his mate rejected him and the time lapsed—”
“You become the Winter Queen,” I whispered, finishing for her.
Diedre snapped her twig-like fingers. “You’re smarter than you look. And so, you see, you are to remain here until time is up to ensure that doesn’t happen. After that, I’ll gladly whisk you back to your pitiful excuse for a little ramshackle town.”
It couldn’t end like this, could it? All because of one being’s desire for more power? Power she shouldn’t have? Couldn’t have?
I leapt to my feet, flapping my wings to bring me closer to her face, glaring at her through the glass. “You won’t be queen, Diedre.”
“As much as I appreciate your confidence, faerie. Time says otherwise.” Diedre cackled and patted the globe before walking away.
No, no. This couldn’t be happening. I never meant for this to happen. If only I hadn’t been so stubborn and agreed beforehand, I wouldn’t even be here. It would’ve already been done—but could I really have blamed myself? It all happened so fast.
Tears prickled my eyes, and I held my face in my hands.
A loud bang followed by the sound of splintering wood startled me to my feet.
“Diedre,” Jack’s voice roared, dragging out her name as if commanding her. “Where is she?”
Gasping and in a fit of panic, I beat my hands against the glass. “Jack, I’m here,” I shouted at the top of my lungs.
“Whatever do you mean, darling?” Diedre asked, standing in front of the globe and blocking it from view.
“Don’t fucking toy with me, witch. Where is she?” Jack loomed over her, and despite the haze of the glass, I could see his ice creature forming over his face.
“Jack,” I yelled again, kicking the glass over and over. From my vantage point, the sounds echoed off the glass so loudly that it made my ears ring. How could he not hear me?
“Back in her cottage contemplating her life choices, I’d imagine. Whyever did you think she’d be here of all places?” Diedre countered.
Jack growled and stalked around the room, shoving tables aside, pulling books from their shelves.
“You’re making a mess and I do not appreciate it,” Diedre spat, moving toward him to straighten things in his wake.
The globe was in clear view now, and I beat against it harder, screamed louder, flew in the middle of it, and did this over and over until I was so hoarse I couldn’t yell anymore. He never saw it. He never saw me. He had no idea I was here.