CHAPTER TEN
Clothed in layers of delicate silver silk overlaid with lace that was far too thin for the chilly halls of the castle, I trailed my maids down some flights of stairs and into a small stone antechamber. Torches set in sconces on the walls cast eerie orange light flickering over the space. I scanned the room, my eyes snagging on the two guards at the far end by a carved set of double doors. Both were heavily armed, and each had inhuman features that reminded me how far I was from Altidvale. One had horns, while the other had a pair of tusks jutting from his mouth in a terrifying sneer.
Garrick stepped out of a shadowy corner just as my maid curtsied and slipped away without a word. I glanced over my shoulder, wistfully watching the maid retreat. Though neither she nor any of the other human girls who had tended to me had spoken or offered me more than a chilling, empty sort of presence—the glazed look in their eyes had told me they were all glamoured—I’d felt a sense of solidarity with them. They weren’t starving or visibly injured, but they weren’t free either. Just like me, they were prisoners in this palace, serving monstrous masters they didn’t want to. The only difference was they were less aware of it than I was.
I didn’t know if that made me—or them—more fortunate.
At least I could try to fight back. I couldn’t be controlled or tricked with glamour.
But they? They were in some blissful state of otherness, blinded to the harsh world around them.
If I couldn’t escape, would I grow to envy them? Was it better for one to be a prisoner without knowing it, or to know it yet be incapable of freeing oneself?
My chest tightened as Garrick approached, his expressionless eyes raking over me. There wasn’t a trace of glamour in his gaze though—they were clear and piercing as ever, if stony and unyielding. His eyes flicked to the healing wounds on my neck, left exposed by the way the maids had styled my hair in a complicated arrangement of braids atop my head.
“You look cold.”
I pressed my lips together, refraining from glaring even though my churning emotions made me want to scream at him.
Garrick shrugged out of his fur vest, and before I could protest, offered it to me.
I swallowed back the rejection burning the back of my throat and slipped it on. Though it still left my arms bare, it radiated warmth. Garrick’s warmth. It smelled of fresh mountain air, of freer times when I still believed he was my friend.
I gritted my teeth as my heart sank all over again with a fresh sense of betrayal. This stone-faced man was not my friend. Certainly nothing more. Everything he’d done before was to gain my trust and lure me to his king and queen, and everything he did now was in service to them.
“Come,” Garrick said, holding out his arm.
For a moment, I blinked at it. “Are you their servant to usher me in and announce me, or my escort?”
Garrick only shrugged.
I forced myself to take his arm, to ignore how warm he was, how even now I felt secure near him when, logically, I knew I should feel most frightened of all at his side. At least the Silverfrost siblings hadn’t pretended to be anything other than monsters toward me.
The pair of guards swung the double doors inward at Garrick’s and my approach, and we were immersed in a flood of flickering gold light and heat. We passed through the entryway and into a huge curved room full of several tables laden with food, permeating the air with a tantalizing aroma that reminded my aching stomach I hadn’t eaten since yesterday. Multiple fireplaces roared at intervals along the walls, and countless fae chatted and dined at tables interspersed throughout the room.
But it was the left side that drew my attention, open to the floor below us, which offered nothing but a plain stone floor and windowless walls. Cold. Uninviting. And adorned with rusty stains, almost as if it were covered with old blood.
No one was down there, but I had the uncanny thought that the room below us was an arena, and the space above it was for the fae court to dine and watch as those less fortunate fought to the death.
I couldn’t stop myself from shivering.
“Welcome,” came a familiar voice. Yet it wasn’t the cold touch of my magic creeping through my veins—no matter how I reached for it, even outside my rooms, I felt no sign of it—it was the icy sensation of fear.
Queen Nerissa leaned back in an elaborate gold and silver chair, its size and design making it look much like a throne. At her side, King Preston was seated in a similar one, their presence at the end of one of the tables seeming to overtake the entire room.
Everyone quieted as their queen went on, gracefully gesturing toward me with false warmth. Countless fae stares bored into me like dozens of needles pricking at my skin. “Miss Florentia Cantwell, our honored human guest.”
The word guest was a lie I was surprised her fae lips could even utter, but I knew even with their limitations, they were masters of deceit. Swallowing my despair, I plastered a smile onto my face as I broke free of Garrick’s arm and dropped into a curtsey.
I lifted my head, studying Nerissa where she continued to lounge on her chair, clutching a wineglass full of golden liquid I knew to be fae wine. Her white gown glistened with countless pearls, its neckline rising on one side in a stunning mimicry of icicles. The dress’s train spilled along the stone floor and nearly reached the foot of Preston’s chair, where he reclined in a simple black jacket and trousers. The color of his eyes matched the wine in his own glass as he swirled it, staring at me expressionlessly.
My heart pulsed in my throat.
“Rise,” Queen Nerissa said after a long moment, lazily flicking her hand. Her eyes narrowed as my skirts rustled around my feet while I straightened, as if she were taking in my attire for the first time. “Little Snowflake, you look lovely, but what are you wearing?”
I followed the direction of her gaze, my fingers brushing over Garrick’s fur vest. My words stuck in my mouth.
But Queen Nerissa didn’t wait for my answer, pinning Garrick with her eyes. For the first time, a sense of foreboding for Garrick swept through me. But he’s their faithful servant, I reminded myself bitterly.
“I thought our honored guest appeared cold,” Garrick said, his tone blank, “and that you would want her to be comfortable.”
Queen Nerissa rolled her eyes. “Snowflakes don’t grow cold. But very well. Bring her to her seat.”
Garrick took my arm again, leading me stiffly toward the royal siblings’ table, where there were two open chairs on Queen Nerissa’s left. To my surprise, Garrick pulled out the furthest chair for me before settling beside the queen himself.
Glazed-eyed human servants scurried forth from other doors set at even intervals opposite the open end of the room, bearing trays full of countless delicacies I couldn’t have even imagined back in my humble town of Altidvale. I supposed while the kingdom of Silverfrost was immersed in winter, either fae magic or trade with surrounding lands permitted such variety in foods. Everything from roast duck to glazed ham to steaming potatoes to the finest and freshest of fruits was laid upon the table. Including unfamiliar fruits in richer shades of plum and navy and gold and silver, ones that I knew better than to touch. Magic and glamour or not, I was still human, and I’d heard plenty of stories about the effects fae food could have on mortals, ranging from embarrassing to lethal.
“I’ve heard so much about you,” a woman beside me crooned, her lips stained blue from the fruit she was eating. Juice dribbled down her chin and she wiped at it carelessly. Her dark eyes had no pupils and her skin was so pale it was translucent, making the purple veins tracing her temples and neck visible. Her wispy black hair hung about her in a wild curtain. “King Preston and Queen Nerissa were just talking about how...unfortunate it was that your avalanche slew some of their best men.”
My heart lodged in my throat. If the royals were talking about the strength of my magic, that meant Garrick had told them just how much I was capable of wielding. I shouldn’t have been surprised, and yet this knowledge cut me deeply.
“It’s been such a heated topic of conversation,” the woman went on, her blue-lipped grin cruel. Her eyes flicked to my hair. “A mortal with such powerful magic?” She sneered. “What a waste.”
I tucked my hands into my lap, wishing she’d look away and focus her attention on someone else.
“Tell me,” she went on, leaning closer until I could smell the strangely sweet scent of the fruit on her breath, “did you know all this time you had fae blood? Did you offer yourself to the royals on purpose in order to challenge them?”
I stared at her in confusion, but before I could scramble for words, a blank-eyed human stepped between us and poured golden liquid into the wineglass in front of me. I stiffened, darting a glance toward the king and queen. While Nerissa was ignoring me, laughing and talking to a grey-skinned fae who’d approached her, Preston’s gaze pierced me. Disgust and foreboding crawled over my skin.
Play along. Quiet Florentia. I reached a trembling hand toward the stem of my glass, not breaking my gaze from Preston’s. Did I dare pretend to drink? To take a small sip?
Did I dare to defy them and pour it out?
The servant stepped away and the pale-skinned woman at my side opened her mouth as if she were about to press me with her questions again when all chatter at the table died and a figure came bolting through the doors.
“Your Majesties!” the horned man cried, and for all his fae grace, he nearly tripped in his haste as he rounded the guards who’d stepped forward upon his abrupt arrival. He paused before our table, gasping for breath and dipping into a quick bow. “I bring an urgent message from the border—our forces are in dire need of—”
“You burst in unannounced and uninvited on this most important night?” Queen Nerissa’s tone was sharp as a knife as she interrupted him, standing from her seat.
The man blinked and stammered something unintelligible.
Queen Nerissa waved her hand impatiently. “Guards, escort this messenger to a waiting room. We will speak to him later, when he’s not interrupting this important night with our guest.” Her gaze shot to me, something eerily hungry in her expression.
After all she’d all but ignored me at the start of this feast, I found it strange she was speaking as if my presence and this feast were so important. Especially when there was an ongoing war with lives at stake. But guards ushered the messenger out swiftly, and as Nerissa settled back into her chair, everyone around me returned to chatting and eating, some shrugging carelessly as if they were interrupted with urgent messages daily.
I braced myself for my pale companion to return to prying me with questions, but this time, a woman across from me stood on her chair, clapping her hands and startling the room into silence. The king and queen both beamed, clearly not upset with this interruption. I concealed my frown at the informality of someone standing on their chair at a feast. What would have been shocking and humiliating back home, however, was met with applause and cheers from the rest of the fae.
With white hair cascading down her back and a wizened old face, she wasn’t like the high fae around her. She was a hag, with crooked fingers, yellowed teeth, and a bent back. She didn’t possess the startling, endless beauty of immortals like Nerissa and Preston. And yet, she moved energetically, and her eyes seemed young. Despite the crow’s feet surrounding them, they were clear and lovely and deep, full of ageless wisdom matched with a strange sense of youthfulness. She was ancient, but she retained the energy and grace of an immortal. “I have been called upon to share a story,” the hag announced in a raspy voice that still managed to carry and echo throughout the space, to every single table.
It hardly seemed possible, but the room seemed to become even stiller and quieter at her announcement. Everyone leaned forward, entranced, and for an instant, I was caught up in the magic of the moment as well.
The hag lifted her age-spotted hands, spreading them wide as...sounds rushed into the room. Winter wind howled around us, followed by the crunch of footsteps in snow. The cries of babies and the laughter and chatter and music of dances and celebrations. As the noises died down, the hag raised her voice once more. “I am a Memory Keeper, older than Silverfrost itself. I have witnessed and stored the history of this kingdom, from its founding to the tragic moment that nearly became its downfall. Listen as I share. Those who were there, remember with me. Those who were not, learn and do not forget these lessons.”
Once more, sounds whirled around us, like drifts of the memories the hag stored were all being carried to us on an unseen breeze. She moved her hands as if she were a musician, directing the memories like a song. “For centuries, the Silverfrost family ruled our kingdom with strength and power. Their fierce spirits were only matched by their skill with magic, granted by our land. Many of the Silverfrost line possessed abilities to control the winter wind and snow and ice, just like numerous other fae outside of the royal family can do in our frozen kingdom.” A roaring filled my ears, matching the fury of a blizzard. “Others could manipulate animals around them, like our snow foxes and birds, commanding them to do their will.” The blizzard was replaced by the gentle sounds of a fae woman speaking, intermingled with the chatter of birds. “Some, long ago at the beginning when fae strength was greatest, could even read minds.”
I swallowed back a rush of fear, thanking the silent gods that those powers had died out among the fae long before my time.
“Their might was befitting, for they, like all the fae kingdoms in Brytwilde, had been given an important task by the gods. One that affects both immortals and mortals alike.” This was something I hadn’t learned in Altidvale. Aside from stories about their cruelty and power, or cautionary tales against trusting the fae or wandering into their dangerous lands, the human children of my town weren’t taught much else about the fae.
A sound like stones scraping together filled the air, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand. I grimaced, resisting the urge to cover my ears. “For in Silverfrost,” the hag went on as the scraping sound blessedly diminished, giving way to the sound of a creaking door, “we guard the entrance to the underworld.”
My heart froze. Screams rent the room, heart-wrenching and terrifying. Groans of pain. Thuds of bodies. I sat so rigidly that Garrick, even from his position beside the queen, shot a glance my way. His gold eyes burned into me, but I refused to meet his gaze or acknowledge his attention. I wouldn’t trust him or his false comfort.
“Every winter solstice, the door separating our realm of the living with that of the dead becomes the weakest. It can be manipulated to be fully opened or fully closed only then. The Silverfrosts were granted great power, enough to seal the entrance on that crucial day, keeping those undead monstrosities out of our world.” The inhuman noises sweeping through the room after this proclamation were so chilling, so awful, that I clenched my teeth until my jaw ached. Everything in my mind screamed at me to run, even though the more rational part of my thoughts knew the sounds were merely that. Not the approach of demons or undead things.
“While the kingdom of Ashwood sends the spirits of the dead along to their rest in the afterlife, Silverfrost has the even heavier duty of keeping the restless dead—those who have been condemned to eternal punishment—from returning. Our heavy responsibility is why our kingdom has always valued strength in battle and in the mind. Power to hold back the dark forces beyond death that would drag us all, mortal and immortal together, into ruin and chaos. Into an underworld brought here to our living world, tainting our life, our magic. Everything.”
A shudder coursed through me, but I tensed my muscles, refusing to let anyone see my mounting terror. Imagining creatures worse than the Silverfrost siblings was horrifying. I didn’t want to see what Preston and Nerissa feared.
The hag leaned forward. “Unfortunately, even the greatest power in our land—those with the most potent magic, the best strategic minds, and bodies and training honed for battle...even it wasn’t enough when the creatures of the underworld escaped and ravaged this castle. A mere two decades ago, everything changed for our mighty rulers. Something went wrong. Even I was not here to witness it—not until it was too late. Few survived, and I scarcely made it out with my life.”
More screams erupted, shredding the air with such intense notes of agony that my eyes glimmered with unshed tears. The hag swirled her hands, letting the sounds envelop us with crushing clarity.
“Death came through the door that night,” she announced, “and slaughtered our entire beloved Silverfrost family.”
Silence descended over the room. Heads bowed all around me, the faces of the fae who’d been celebrating earlier turning solemn. One of the logs in a fireplace popped. A jolt of compassion Garrick didn’t deserve pierced my heart as I realized this was the fight that had killed his entire family.
The hag gestured toward King Preston and Queen Nerissa, who smiled contentedly, as if they hadn’t just been listening to a gruesome tale of an entire family being murdered.
“We were blessed that night by our mighty king and queen, siblings from a noble estate across the kingdom, who arrived for a scheduled visit in the middle of the attack. Using their magic, they gave me the chance to flee with these memories I’ve caught for you of that most tragic day. And they cast those creatures back into the abyss. It is under their rule that we have managed to live in relative safety for nearly twenty-two years.”
Applause rang out, wild and fierce.
“But without true Silverfrost blood, our new king and queen could only take that family name and the throne...they could not inherit their most important power. The ability to close the entrance to the underworld and seal its inhabitants inside it.” The hag’s eyes grew even more somber as another awful sound—an ominous breathing with the scrape of claws—permeated the room. “Our only hope is to be stronger and smarter than anything that escapes at night. To subdue those creatures until, someday, the gods send us someone with the power to send them back into the abyss they crept from. This is why we fight to the death. This is why we train. And this is why, when anyone comes forth claiming long-lost Silverfrost blood, we honor yet test them. No liars will be tolerated.”
“And,” Preston cut in, his voice echoing through the room, “this is what makes today so special, and our guest so honored. For it has come to our attention that Miss Florentia Cantwell wants to be tested, to see if she somehow possesses an ounce of this precious Silverfrost blood.” His grin was wide, but it was all teeth.
What? I never claimed to be a Silverfrost. I sat up hurriedly, my gaze snapping toward Nerissa and Preston. Nerissa ignored me, leaning back in her seat with her wineglass carelessly dangling from her fingers, while Garrick perched on the arm of her chair. She trailed lazy fingers up his bicep in a lustful way that had my stomach lurching. As if I had any right to feel possessive or jealous or hurt regarding anything that traitor did or didn’t do.
But Preston’s eyes were locked on mine, those red irises twinkling in the flickering light. He was silently laughing at me. Mocking me.
I curled my fingers into fists, my words trapped in my throat. When Garrick had shared the story about the avalanche I’d unleashed, what else had he told Nerissa and Preston? When he’d said he’d known my father, had he been speaking of one of the dead Silverfrosts? Or was this all some awful trick contrived as an excuse to torment me?
I couldn’t scream, couldn’t protest. What good would it do? It was clear the king and queen had prepared some awful test for me, and resistance would only make it worse.
Wouldn’t it?
“Florentia Cantwell,” King Preston drawled, standing from the table and circling toward me.
“Ren,” I whispered. As if he heard. As if he cared.
He paused, towering over me and smirking, delighting in my frozen expression. “I’ll do you the honor of escorting you to the arena myself.”