CHAPTER EIGHT
“At last,” I breathed, rubbing my gloved hands together as Garrick bolted the door behind us. It had been a long, grueling trek through deep snow—made longer because of frequent stops to rest because I wasn’t accustomed to such arduous tasks, and because of our need to take a circuitous route to avoid a company of soldiers Garrick spied leaving the castle to enter the mountains and head toward Ashwood. After our long day, I was overjoyed to be in this next cabin. To be safe, behind the wards that wouldn’t allow anyone else to enter once the door was bolted.
Unfortunately, we were also much closer to the enemy. As we’d approached this cabin, I’d caught glimpses of great stone walls rising in the distance, resting on the swell of the next mountainside.
“The castle,” Garrick had muttered. “It’s built like a fortress, for the royal Silverfrosts were known for their warlike tendencies. It’s said the first of their kind created it to withstand any siege, so they could go out and conquer the other three fae kingdoms but never fear anyone taking theirs.”
Thinking of those warlike fae, notoriously cruel to humans, had made icy fear clutch my heart. I’d turned away hurriedly.
Now, I settled on a pile of blankets Garrick laid before the hearth as he set to work building a fire. I sighed with relief as the flames began to crackle, then wondered at the irony of my possessing winter magic yet hating the cold. Would I ever build up a tolerance for it, the way Garrick seemed to have done? Was it because of his fae or shifter blood, or merely the fact he’d lived his life in these rugged mountains?
“There hasn’t been anyone here in some time,” Garrick said as he rifled through the cabinets for supplies. He sighed, shoulders slumping. “I’ll have to leave you.”
My heart dropped. “What do you mean?” I asked, pausing mid-removal of my boot, my fingers still tangled in its damp laces.
“Well, I assume you’re hungry,” Garrick said, a half-smile on his face. “I don’t think the little salted meat we have left will sustain us much longer.” He shrugged, seizing his bow and quiver from where he’d hung them on a hook on the wall near the door. “Besides, you’re secure here.”
“The wards will hold even when you’re gone?”
“Did you think I had anything to do with them?” The wolf shifter’s laughter came out forced, his gold eyes dim with sadness he couldn’t quite conceal. “I don’t have such magical abilities. They hold with or without my influence, Starlight. They were placed generations ago, to secure all who would stay here. As long as you bolt the door, only those you welcome will be permitted to enter.”
I nodded, concealing the way uneasiness slithered along my skin in spite of Garrick’s reassurances. I couldn’t forget the dullahan and the way it had imitated his voice.
As if reading my thoughts, Garrick added, “Don’t let anyone in—no matter what you hear—unless I can tell you exactly where we met and the first thing you said to me.”
“I’m afraid we have not been introduced,” I recited with a grin.
Garrick dipped his head. “I’ll return as soon as I can. Bolt the door behind me.”
As soon as I’d slid the lock into place, I returned to the fireside, pulling off my boots. No part of me wanted to climb into the bed to warm myself, not when it was set against the wall, near a window. Instead I found a tunic and a pair of leggings in a chest and changed into the fresh, dry clothes, folding the men’s pants and rolling the hems to fit my body.
Curling up in a fur blanket before the fire, I clung to my hunting knife. My mind ran wildly through the moments leading up to the avalanche I’d unleashed, wracking me with guilt and tension despite the knowledge that the men who’d hunted us wouldn’t have hesitated to kill Garrick. I didn’t regret what my magic had done, not when it had saved him, but that didn’t ease my guilt, the sobering knowledge that I’d taken lives. And that I had the power to take more.
If my magic was strongest during winter in the Silverfrost kingdom and was connected to my emotions and thoughts, I feared I’d never gain control of it. My quiet actions and calm demeanor back home had always been a front to mask my churning pain and intense feelings. From grief to fear of the future to the pain of never being wanted, never fitting in, and the constant ache of loneliness, I had always been a storm on the inside.
The avalanche had felt like a natural extension of the wildness within, as deadly to myself as it had been to others. Somehow, I wasn’t surprised by that either. Endangering my own life with my magic seemed fitting, like the old, silent gods’ way of amusing themselves with my pain. How ironic that the power others had always feared had not only truly been a part of me, but also threatened me as well.
Unfortunately, I wasn’t sure how to strengthen my grasp on my abilities short of practicing with them, and I wasn’t about to risk summoning another storm or avalanche.
Sighing, I huddled deeper within my pile of blankets, trying to remain alert. But the arduous walk through the snow and the pleasantly toasty air from the fire made my eyelids grow heavy, and I slipped into a dreamless sleep.
“No desire for company to keep you warm? A shame.”
The words jolted me awake, sitting up and staring toward the door. Something scratched along its surface outside, slowly and deliberately. That deep, taunting male voice spoke through the keyhole again.
“All alone, I see. Your dog left you to fend for yourself.”
Seizing the knife, I stared at the door, willing myself to be unafraid. The wards won’t let him in.
The fire burned low, casting an umber glow around me but leaving the cabin’s edges in flickering shadow. Through the window beside the door, I caught a flash of movement in the night.
How long had I slept? And where was Garrick?
The scratching started again. “A quiet little human,” the stranger crooned. “You can’t hide in there forever. Why don’t we strike a bargain?”
I gathered my courage. “I’m no fool,” I said, tightening my grasp on the knife. “You want whatever price the Silverfrost family placed on my head, and the only thing I want is my freedom. There is no agreement we can come to, and nothing you say will convince me to let you in. You cannot pass the wards.”
There was a long, drawn-out sigh, almost as if the fae were using it only for dramatic effect. “Very well. Be difficult.”
My heart hammered in my ears as I heard the scrape of a blade being drawn.
“They want you alive, but considering you killed my friends, made hunting you challenging, and forced me to draw my own blood, I think they’ll understand if I take my time with you first.”
I stood, letting the blankets fall to the floor and holding the knife point toward the cabin entrance, as if the creature could see me. “What are you talking about?”
“Playing with my prey. Little worm that you are, I’ve heard your blood tastes intoxicating to my kind. Perhaps I’ll take a sip or two.”
The earlier warmth of the cabin had vanished in an all-consuming chill. I shuddered as my breath fogged. Nearby, the fire sputtered and dimmed, fighting against a frigid breeze gusting around me and tangling in my hair. “You’ll never make it inside.”
Laughter, deep and threatening, made me feel like claws were being scraped down my spine. “Unfortunately, Garrick Darkgrove failed to realize that it was my ancestors who created the wards for these cabins. The same blood that marks them for protection runs in my veins. All I need is a few drops of my blood for the magic to recognize me and let me pass.”
There was a click as if to emphasize his point, and then the deadbolt slid open of its own accord. The knob turned and the door swung inward, wind and snow swirling inside. In the entrance, the hulking form of the winged fae man loomed before me, his mouth open wide to reveal black fangs.
My heart throbbed in my throat, but my scream died before it could fully form.
The fae swallowed the distance between us in two huge strides, his grey, feathered wings unfurling to their full length. He was like a bird of prey, dark and feral and entirely too swift. I staggered back, unsuccessfully trying to stumble out of his reach.
Ice popped beneath my stockinged feet, spreading outward over the hardwood floor in a frosty layer. I slipped and crashed in a heap, my elbow slamming painfully on the ice’s hard surface. My entire arm went numb, and the knife fell uselessly from my limp fingers.
Seizing me by the throat, the fae laughed, his eyes a red so deep they were nearly black. My teeth chattered as he lifted me, opening his mouth still wider. Ready to consume.
I reached for the magic rippling through my veins. Chill wind whistled as it tugged at the man’s feathered wings. Thrashing, I tried and failed to wrench his hand off my neck, to punch his leering face and knock him away. Snowflakes fell in a flurry into the cabin, churning around us in a furious white blanket.
Again, the man merely laughed, digging his fingers in harder, until his nails bit into my skin and warm drops trickled down the back of my neck. His nostrils flared and a terrifying gleam shone in his eyes as he inhaled the tang of my blood. “Snow won’t stop me, worm.”
I screamed as his head dipped lower, his fangs brushing my flesh. Their points stung as they began to pierce the place between my neck and shoulder.
Black ice climbed up the man’s arms and devoured his booted feet, rooting him in place. Snarling, he lifted his head to glare at me, his fangs dripping with my blood. His hands could no longer hold me in place, and his trapped legs couldn’t chase me.
“Starlight!” My heart leapt with hope at the sound of Garrick’s voice.
Not even pausing to seek my coat or knife, I stepped into my unlaced boots and launched myself across the slick cabin floor, skating along the ice and charging into the night. Warmth and pain pulsed in my neck, and I lifted a hand to where my attacker’s fangs had pierced me, grimacing.
Outside was a whirlwind of snow, frigid and painful. The sensation of a thousand needles pricking my bare skin consumed me, cutting through the fabric of my clothes. I shivered and charged toward the sound of Garrick’s voice, still calling out to me. No matter the risks of the storm outside, I couldn’t linger in the cabin, couldn’t trust that my unpredictable magic would keep the winged fae bound for long.
Pines rose ahead of me, but otherwise, it was difficult for me to make out clear shapes in the snow. Flakes coated my hair and dusted my eyelashes.
“Ren!”
Garrick couldn’t be far.
A stronger gust tore my hair free, letting silver strands whip against my numbing face. “Garrick?” I shouted. “I’m here!”
“Starlight.” His voice was warm and relieved, and when I spun around, he was there.
Heedless of how he might react or what the world I’d left behind might once have thought of me, I threw myself into his arms. His warmth enveloped me instantly, thawing the cold in my veins. I buried my face in his coat, snow melting against my face and mingling with the tears stinging my eyes.
Before I could speak, the storm ended as soon as it had begun. Quiet descended as Garrick hesitantly threaded his arms around me. My heart ached. He wasn’t returning my embrace, not really. “You’re bleeding,” he murmured, but his voice sounded strangely distant.
I lifted my head, and he dropped his arms and stepped back, leaving me to the cold. The cool light of stars bathed the trees in silver, and I could just make out the cabin and its fading glow a short distance away. Footsteps approached from the forest behind me.
“There you are, Snowflake,” called an unfamiliar voice, grating on my ears.
When I met Garrick’s gaze, the usual warmth of his golden eyes had vanished into something cold. Foreboding lurched through me.
“Thought you could run and hide from us forever, did you, Miss Florentia Cantwell?” came an amused feminine voice.
I spun to face two approaching figures, the silver light tracing their sharp features and taunting grins. Both stood tall and slender with rich brown hair and deeper, darker eyes. Their high cheekbones and pointed chins appeared chiseled from marble, and their pale skin seemed almost luminescent. Crowns of white and yellow gold engraved with snowflake detailing and sparkling diamonds gave them away.
The Silverfrosts.
Garrick dipped his head deferentially and addressed the royal siblings by name. Or perhaps he spoke their names for my benefit, in an awful, unwanted introduction.
“King Preston. Queen Nerissa.” His voice was low and deep, betraying none of his feelings.
A shudder rippled through my body.
“Well done, Garrick,” Queen Nerissa said as she sauntered forward, a self-satisfied smirk twisting her full, red lips. “See, Preston? I knew your hunters could never compete with my Garrick. Their tracking abilities could never compare to what a loyal dog can do.”
My breath caught and I staggered backward, as if I could outrun the immortal fae stalking toward me. I slammed into a solid chest, and muscled arms coiled around my waist. Garrick held me against him—but, though his warmth continued to envelop me, it was no longer comforting. He was confining me, preventing me from escaping.
“Let me go,” I hissed, the tears on my eyelashes freezing. I tried to glance over my shoulder, but my head was pressed too closely against him, his chin tucked against my hair.
The sting of betrayal slammed into me so forcefully I ached. How could I have been so foolish as to trust a fae? How could I have believed, because he’d talked of running away, because he couldn’t outright lie, that he wasn’t deceiving me? Had I truly been that starved for kindness? For companionship? I’d attached myself so quickly to the very first person to offer me an ounce of decency for the first time in a year. Shame consumed me.
As the siblings paused mere feet before us, their eyes raking over me, I struggled vainly against Garrick’s grasp. Something dark churned in Preston’s eyes. He took another step closer, his boots crunching in the snow. Extending his arm, he seized my chin with one gloved hand, tipping my head to inspect me like I was an animal at a livestock exhibit.
“Just a delicate little snowflake,” he muttered, as if to himself. “A shame that our magic was wasted on the likes of a sad little mortal like you.”
Both his and Nerissa’s eyes snapped to my bleeding neck in the same instant. Preston inhaled sharply. “Smells about as appealing as an animal.”
But Nerissa’s pale face had turned vicious, her taunting manner melting into something far more terrifying. “Where is he, Garrick? A failed hunter must be punished. Find and dispatch of him.” She snapped her fingers as if she really were commanding a dog, and Garrick’s arms released me. Nerissa’s gaze flicked to her brother, who still gripped me painfully. “He’s your servant. Would you like the pleasure of punishing him?”
Preston snorted. “No, you and your dog can have your fun.”
As Garrick and Nerissa trudged back toward the cabin, where I assumed the winged fae was still encased in ice, Preston lifted his hand in a silent signal. His other remained firmly on my chin. I had the urge to struggle and try to flee, but I knew better than to give into the impulse. Years of being taunted and mocked and feared had taught me to become quiet and unobtrusive. I suspected such behavior would serve me equally well among the fae. Fighting back would make myself a more interesting challenge, a plaything they wouldn’t soon tire of.
At Preston’s gesture, several guards slunk from among the trees, naked blades shimmering at their sides. Two carried shackles that gleamed a strange bluish color when the light caught them.
“Restrain her,” Preston said, grinning wickedly and releasing my chin. He stepped back to allow the guards to flank me, seizing my arms.
This time, my magic responded to my terror, and I didn’t try to resist it. Maybe I had no choice but to try to run, even if it encouraged them to give chase. A chill rippled through me, and the breeze picked up, whipping stinging snowflakes against my cheeks.
“Tsk, none of that now,” Preston taunted. “Resisting and running will only give us reason to let our dog chase you again. And he does so love to hunt.”
As if to punctuate his statement, a ragged scream rent the air, echoing through the cabin behind me. My heart dropped as the scream cut off.
The guards tugged my arms behind my back and snapped the shackles around my wrists with a clank. Instant pain burned through me as the cold metal brushed against my skin. I hissed through my teeth and my eyes watered as the agony intensified, like countless hot coals searing along my skin, their heat burrowing into flesh and tendon and bone.
“Forget-me-nots melded in with our metal,” Preston explained, meeting my gaze with a hungry look. Now that he was nearer, his eyes looked red. The color of dried blood. He leaned forward, his breath caressing my face. It smelled of decay, and I choked back a gag. “The flowers have an interesting effect on fae magic. You essentially forget how to use your power—and in that forgetting comes enormous pain. To be cut off from something that lives in your blood is to lose a piece of yourself. Awful, is it not?”
My very bones ached, every muscle in my body going taut with the agony churning through me. Now the burning seemed to go even deeper than my bones and my blood, consuming organs. Devouring me. I struggled for breath, my lungs heaving with effort. My vision started to tunnel, and I wondered if I’d pass out right there, collapsing in the snow.
From the corner of my eye, I was aware of Garrick and Nerissa returning. Blood splattered Garrick’s clothes, and when I tried to meet his gaze, he turned away, his expression shuttered. Nerissa strode closer, holding...a severed finger. My stomach cramped as she lifted it high, showing off the gruesome, bloody thing like it was something to be treasured.
“Care to go collect a trophy, brother?” she asked Preston.
The world swayed and lurched around me. I keeled over, heaving the pitiful contents of my stomach—which was mostly bile—into the snow.
“Don’t be so dramatic,” Preston muttered, grabbing me by my injured shoulder. Fresh pain lanced through me. His gloved finger traced the blood trickling down my neck before he lifted it to his nose, sniffing. Grimacing, he wiped his glove on his trousers. “The stench of mortal blood. As disgusting as I thought.”
I tried to move, but I was frozen in place. Horror and an aching, unending sense of betrayal and loss slammed into me. The agony from my shackles reached a peak, until I thought maybe I was being shredded apart or burned alive, and this time, I screamed.
I screamed and screamed until I was breathless, until my throat was raw, until Preston scowled, drawing his blade and lifting the pommel over me. There was a flash of pain as it struck the back of my head, and then darkness.