The Curse of the Frost King (The Fae Spark Trilogy #1)

Chapter 1

Hannah

Sometimes I thought someone up above had a sick sense of humor.

I was in the one spot I’d avoided my entire life. My skin was crawling, and my head was screaming, Hannah, run away! But my body wouldn’t let me leave. Some sort of…whisper kept repeating in my ear: Open the box.

It had been rolling through my head nonstop since the moment my great-aunt Maureen had passed away.

Every dream I’d had since then was of my memory of the night my mother had died, and Aunt Maureen had buried this big iron box in the ground close to this freaky-ass rowan tree that had spread its roots over this spot during the past twenty years.

I hated this tree as much as Aunt Maureen had loved it.

Rowans typically grew only in Ireland, but my great-grandmother had managed to find one to plant here and had kept it alive against all odds.

The damn thing hadn’t just survived—it had thrived, and now it towered over me, full of red berries with branches and leaves that sounded like hissing murmurs were coming from their depths in the wind.

No matter how hard I listened, true words never formed, but I always sensed that the tree wanted something.

Even when I was a child, this place hadn’t felt right and had kept me unsettled.

I’d seen shadows and heard sounds that I could never explain even to this day.

Now I was drenched in sweat, digging up soil and hacking at the roots of the very tree I’d tried to stay the hell away from, in a pink shirt that said I’m with Stupid.

It hadn’t been intentional, but it was damn fitting.

I attacked one of the big branching roots, my arm muscles burning. Blowing out a breath, I set the axe next to the crowbar and once again jammed the shovel into the earth with a sharp crack that jolted up my arms. I froze, breath catching as if someone had just caught me doing something terrible.

Part of me expected to see Aunt Maureen looming over me, hands on her hips, deciding what item she should steal from me to teach me a lesson about disobeying.

The metallic taste of nerves coated my tongue as I remembered the last time.

I'd been running late to my tanning session before my shift at the tanning salon started, and I’d run outside only to find that my car was missing.

I could only imagine what she’d steal from me for doing this, if she were still alive.

Knock it off. I huffed a strand of honey blonde hair out of my face, then stomped my foot on the step of the shovel to drive it deeper. A warm earthy scent engulfed me, contrasting sharply with the usual crisp scents of autumn in eastern Tennessee.

The late afternoon light stretched the shadows of the tree long and painted everything in gold.

I needed to finish this up, because there was no way in hell I was going to be out here at night.

With the way the whispers and bad signs had amplified since my aunt passed, I wouldn’t be surprised if Michael Myers or Freddy Krueger came chasing after me. I didn't need that.

Determination fueled me even more. I knew what I’d seen that night.

“Bullshit I saw nothing, Aunt Maureen. What were you hiding?” She’d insisted I'd dreamed it, and she’d even said I could check.

But when I’d marched outside to find my proof, the grass had grown over this spot like nothing had happened.

I’d believed her—believed I’d imagined it, or dreamed it—for a time.

But one night, when the whispers entered my head, I’d headed out here, hoping to dig up the box while she slept.

She’d caught me red-handed and had insisted she just didn't want the tree hurt.

I hadn't believed her, even though I gave up searching for the box. But ever since she’d passed, the memory of her burying it had continually showed up, to the point that I couldn’t think about anything else…

not even when I was tanning. The memory of the iron box gnawed at my mind, urging me to settle this once and for all.

The metal of the shovel hit something solid with a clang. Definitely not a rock, because the sound was more hollow and metallic.

My heart leaped into my throat, and cold tendrils of fear clawed my chest.

"See, I knew I wasn't crazy, Aunt Maureen! Finally!" I dropped to my knees and scraped away soil with my hands. My fingernails filled with dirt as I uncovered a dark metal edge.

I worked faster, ignoring the sweat trickling down my spine and the trembling of my fingers. The rowan tree seemed to lean closer, its branches casting strange patterns over me. The red berries resembled drops of blood in the fading light.

Great. Maybe that was a sign of what was to come if I didn’t get my ass out of here.

I cleared off the top and found parts of the sides, fighting the roots that had pushed into the weak spots in the metal. The box was just as I remembered it: black iron with brown copper reinforcements and a heavy padlock with metal handles on the sides.

As if that higher power wanted to remind me I was their bitch, a raven cawed from somewhere overhead, making me jump.

The fast-sinking sun and the golden light giving way to purple shadows confirmed I needed to get the box to the car and get my happy ass to my cheap apartment and away from the horror.

I grabbed the box and tried to lift it, but it was heavier than it looked.

Of course it was.

"Dammit, come on." I grunted, bracing myself to heave it up and out of the hole. Still, the damn thing didn’t budge.

Then I noticed the problem. I hadn't cleared away enough of the roots. Some still held the sides, embedded securely in the metal. They'd probably even worked their way into the bottom as well. The box might as well have been sewn into the ground. Well, I’d be a monkey’s uncle… someone did hate me.

The temperature dropped at least ten degrees as the wind picked up, making me shiver. The branches rustled, and a few berries dropped around me, bouncing on the ground. And the whispering clawed at the back of my mind, indistinct words that made me want to jump out of my skin.

With a quick glance at the sky, I sucked in a breath. How the hell was the sun already disappearing? The last rays of light bled across the horizon, clawing at the clouds like dying embers.

Well, there was no chance I'd be able to dig the box out before night came, so I'd just have to open the damn thing here and now.

I picked up the crowbar and wedged it into the space between the lock and the shackle.

This was the moment of truth. I’d finally see what was so important that Aunt Maureen had lied to me about it for all these years.

I picked up the axe, turned it so the axe head faced the trunk, and struck it against the crowbar.

After three strikes, the metal shackle gave way.

The rowan tree shuddered above me, and a chill ran through me. I looked upward, scowling, and the hissing murmurs intensified. They were no longer just in my head but seemed to come from the box itself.

"Shut up,” I gritted out. My mind had to be playing tricks on me.

My hands shook as I pulled the shackle free. "Let's get this over with."

With a deep breath, I tried lifting the lid, but it wouldn't budge, as if something was holding it down.

Nope. Not today, box. I was going to get my answer after all these years. I shoved it harder, and then it gave way with a loud creak that echoed down the hillside. A musty, metallic scent hit me—like dried blood and something I couldn’t quite place.

Inside lay an ornate gold table mirror with full sunbursts at the top and bottom and golden strands weaving down the frame. Clouds and winged horses had been carved into the top and bottom, flanking the sunbursts.

My attention slid to the dagger beside the mirror…

and time seemed to freeze. It was a golden tri-sided spiral dagger with an elegant handle and ridged leather grip.

I’d seen one similar to this before, when a horrible ex who’d been obsessed with knives had shown it to me.

He’d called it a tri dagger and said it was the deadliest knife in the world and it would take three surgeons to stitch a man up if he were stabbed with one—if he could even be saved. Fuck, the guy had been creepy.

He’d disappeared after he’d showed up here and Aunt Maureen had hobbled out with her cane, threatening to put it where the sun didn’t shine.

Tears burned the backs of my eyes, and grief struck, hollowing me out deep inside.

I missed her, and I'd be willing to have my car stolen again just to have her back. She was the only family I’d had in the world, and even though she’d been eccentric, grumpy, and stubborn and had refused to move, no matter how many plans I’d made, she’d loved me as much as I loved her.

She’d been good to me. Fed me, clothed me, and always listened with tenderness and concern. When Mom and I hadn’t had anywhere to go, she’d given us a place to stay. And she'd taught me how to defend myself and how to fight as best she knew how.

When Mom died, there was never a question about who'd take care of me. My dad had vanished when I was a little kid, and I’d never really known him except that he abused her.

I’d wanted to take care of Aunt Maureen, too, but she would have none of it, except for letting me teach her a few things about technology and a couple of moves I learned from getting into scraps and fights.

Now she was gone. She'd died peacefully in her sleep. I could be grateful for that at least.

I’d known something was wrong as soon as she hadn’t answered my morning text. The coroner said she hadn’t felt a thing.

It still hurt that she’d lied to me all those years ago and tried to convince me I hadn’t seen what I had. If she’d still been here, I’d have stolen something of hers to make my point and let her know how upset I was. Turnabouts were fair play.

The deadly blade shimmered like captured sunlight, catching my attention.

There were dark marks in the air above it though.

Scowling, I kneeled, leaned closer, and gently reached forward.

Though it looked as if the blade ended in a point, I realized that it actually was longer than it looked, the tip of the blade so fine that it could barely be seen almost half an inch past where it seemed to end.

The dark traces looked like dried blood.

I shuddered. Something about this dagger unnerved me. It was like…it was watching me.

I set the dagger on the ground to the left of the hole, then removed the mirror with both hands.

A wave of energy passed over me, and my head spun. I jerked back, and the mirror expanded.

"What the hell?" The dizziness intensified.

A low humming buzz came out of the mirror, and something rippled out, like an energy wave.

The mirror grew again, pulsing with eerie silver-blue light. The glass rippled like water, but its surface frosted and turned dark blue instead of reflecting the rowan branches and darkening sky.

"Stop!" I shouted as if an inanimate object would listen.

I dropped the mirror onto the grass and upturned soil near the hole, but it didn't break. Instead, it knocked against the crowbar, flipping it upward. The metal tool landed across the mirror's frame, balancing precariously on the edge as the mirror pulsed and hummed.

Another spasm of energy shot out of the mirror, and it grew again, shoving up against my knee on one side and against the dagger to my right.

Yelping, I fell forward, my right hand landing directly on the spiral dagger’s blade.

"Shit!" White-hot pain seared my palm as the impossibly sharp edge sliced deep. Blood welled up immediately and spilled onto the mirror's surface, where it sizzled and disappeared.

I leaned forward and tried to touch the glass, but my hand passed through it, and I tumbled forward.

The world tilted, dissolved, and vanished. My scream echoed around me as I hurtled through endless darkness. Wind rushed past my ears, my stomach lurched into my throat, and then—

THUD.

I slammed onto something hard and bitterly cold. Pain radiated through my shoulder and hip, and frost bit into my cheek where it pressed against stone. A metallic clatter rang out beside me as the crowbar landed inches from my head.

"Fuck," I wheezed, the impact having knocked the wind from my lungs. My cut hand throbbed, burning as if I'd set it on fire.

I pushed myself up onto my elbows, blinking to clear my vision.

What the actual fuck? Where the hell was I, because this was definitely not Crossville, Tennessee.

I lay on frost-covered flagstones, staring up at a jet-black sky in which impossibly large light-blue stars shimmered like diamonds in velvet. My breath frosted.

Wincing, I forced myself onto my jean-covered knees and gasped. Torches hung from black metal posts, their light flickering on the flagstones. It looked like I’d landed in the courtyard of a medieval castle. What the hell?

"There! An intruder!"

Heavy footsteps pounded across stone. Men wearing metal armor and fur and holding swords charged at me.

Okay, now I knew why Aunt Maureen had lied to me. The box actually had made me crazy!

"Shit!" I scrambled backward, my hand closing around the crowbar. I swung it wildly as the first guard lunged for me, catching him in the side and sending him staggering.

My blood slicked the crowbar, but I held it tight. “Get away from me, assholes!”

"She's armed!" one of them shouted, his voice echoing strangely in the frigid air.

Another guard rushed me from the side. I pivoted and swung, but he ducked beneath my swing. A third guard circled behind me, and suddenly I was surrounded by five of them closing in with swords that gleamed in the torchlight.

I had to get out of here. Pulse racing, I swung the crowbar again as another guard rushed me. A second guard darted out and caught my wrist in an ironlike grip.

Pain shot up my arm. A third guard backhanded me across the face with an armored glove. Stars exploded behind my eyes, and my head snapped back and smashed into the ground. The crowbar clattered from my grip.

Rough hands seized my arms and twisted them painfully behind my back. My vision swam, blood trickling from my split lip. One of the guards lifted his sword as if preparing to chop off my head.

“Halt!” a deep voice thundered over the courtyard. The voice seemed to cut straight through me, and a strange tugging pulled within my chest. “Bring the intruder here.”