CHAPTER TWELVE
Iopened my eyes to a familiar bedroom of stone, the high window to my right admitting a watery light that told me it couldn’t be past mid-morning. Every inch of my body ached, but it was a relief compared to the sharp agony of earlier. At least an entire night had passed, and somehow, I was still alive. I tried to brush the blanket back and sit up to survey the damage to my body, but a voice interrupted me.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” a woman said in a smooth tone. “Though,” she added with a chuckle, “I don’t know the first thing that goes through you mortals’ heads.”
Turning, I found a tall, slender fae woman seated in the chair at my bedside. Lovely golden hair framed her pale, angular face, while her full lips twisted in a bemused smile. It didn’t seem entirely kind, but there wasn’t any open hostility about her either. Her eyes were an unusual shade of turquoise, bright and cunning as her gaze slid over me.
On her shoulder sat a pixie, lounging as if she regularly reclined on others. Her curls hung loose, framing a face with a dark complexion and rich brown eyes. They glittered with mischief, reminding me of all the stories I’d been told about pixies and their fun, carefree ways. She made me feel a little more at ease, while her golden-haired friend made me nervous.
“What—what happened?” I whispered, my words sounding raspy as I pushed them out of my raw throat. My mouth was dry, and the ache as I spoke reminded me of my screams in the arena. “Who are you?”
The golden-haired fae crossed her legs primly, drawing my attention to the fact that she was clothed in some form of tight trousers and a tunic rather than a dress. I frowned at the strange sight. “You can call me Isolde, and this is Aspen,” she said, gesturing toward the pixie on her shoulder. “I’m a healer, so I was sent to tend to you. The magic was especially taxing on your frail human body.”
I didn’t protest, for she was right.
“Why am I not dead?” I asked. Had they sent Isolde to heal me only so they could put me through some new trial that would finish me off?
Isolde pursed her lips, looking as if she’d tasted something sour. “You displayed powerful winter magic, hinting at the possibility that you could indeed possess Silverfrost blood...despite your mortality.” Her forehead scrunched.
Aspen hopped off Isolde’s shoulder, walking across her lap and settling on the edge of my bed. “It was quite a sight.” She sat, crossing her legs and resting her chin in one hand. Like Isolde, she wore fitted trousers and a tunic in bright, cheerful colors at odds with the dull winter light filtering through my window. “Slaying that human with a spear of ice? Impressive. We haven’t seen magic like that in...well, decades.”
Bile filled my mouth at the memory. The man’s final look pierced my thoughts, filling my head with the painful image. His confusion. His hurt. His sorrow. He’d been nothing more than a tool in fae hands, and I had ended his life.
Did he hate me in those last moments? Or had he found relief in being freed of the control?
I swallowed back a building sob, knowing these fae wouldn’t sympathize with my guilt.
“The way Garrick Darkgrove came to your rescue was also something I haven’t seen the likes of in years,” Aspen added, a mischievous glint in her eyes.
“What?”
“Once you displayed your magic and killed the first human, he became a bit...unhinged.” Isolde shrugged. “Usually the hunter is calm and in control, and it’s so rare for us to see him in his wolf form. But he is loyal to the crown, so I suppose his reaction last night was to be expected. He was the first to intervene, no doubt when he realized the extent of the magic you’d wielded. He transformed and killed the other mortals before they could harm you further.”
Despite Isolde’s earlier warning, I sat up, too overcome with this news. Garrick had intervened for me? But according to the fae, it was only because I was valuable. My power was valuable. Not because he cared.
“Of course,” Isolde continued, “King Preston and Queen Nerissa realized Garrick was right to stop the humans, and they called on me to tend to you, to piece you back together.” She studied me thoughtfully. “Two broken ribs and some fractured bones in your wrist. How easily that man shattered you. It’s strange to imagine that such power could reside in such a pathetic frame.”
I swallowed my indignation, but my throat was so dry, I proved Isolde’s comment accurate by choking on my own saliva and falling into a coughing fit.
“She probably needs water,” Aspen piped up, tossing Isolde a look.
Isolde stood, sweeping toward a side table that had been set up beside my bed, full of a pitcher, glasses, and a tray of food. She poured me a glass of water and handed it over.
As I swallowed, Isolde settled back in her chair, waving a careless hand toward me. “You slept two full nights and a day healing those bones, and you’ll probably remain a bit tender for a few more days.”
I stared, processing her words. No wonder my stomach ached with a hunger that nearly matched the pain in my muscles and bones. Each breath I drew sent an ache through my torso, reminding me of my still-healing ribs.
But I was alive. I sat up further, trying to turn to inspect the tray of food, but a wave of pain jolted through me, and I cringed.
“Not everyone is convinced you have Silverfrost blood,” Aspen observed.
“What does this mean?” I asked, head pounding. “Did I pass the test? Are there more?”
Isolde arched a brow. “You passed the test...barely. Most of the court is convinced you must have some drop of Silverfrost blood in your veins to be able to wield winter magic in such a way. Creating a blade from ice is impressive,” she added, almost begrudgingly. “However, this doesn’t change the fact that you are a mere mortal. And nothing will be certain until the winter solstice, when we will find out if your blood can truly close the entrance to the underworld and keep the undead and demons at bay.”
“In the meantime, we are here to prepare you, now that you’re awake,” Aspen announced, standing and setting her hands on her hips. “And we haven’t any time to lose, as you’re in rough shape. It’s going to take a while.”
“Prepare me?”
Isolde rolled her eyes. “We don’t have time for ridiculous questions. The king and queen called for you, of course.” She pointed to the tray, which I was finally able to turn and study. There was a bowl of fresh sugared berries alongside some pastries, eggs, and thick slices of bacon. “This food was delivered recently, once we noticed you were stirring more in your sleep. Eat quickly.”
Isolde and Aspen chattered about various court gossip as I shoveled food into my mouth, delighted by how delicious and fresh everything tasted. As soon as my ravenous hunger was abated, the women scurried me into the washroom and into a steaming bath. I could have relaxed and soaked in it for a long time, relishing the way the hot water soothed my aching body, but Isolde remained impatient. She dressed me in a simple silver gown, overlaid with a corset that she laced so tightly I cringed as it tugged against my ribs.
“Drink this,” Isolde said, plucking a vial from her pocket.
I frowned at it as she steered me toward a chair by the fire. “What is this?”
“It’ll help with the pain.” She raised her eyebrows at me. “Healer, remember? Don’t tell me mortals are that forgetful.”
Ignoring the jab, I settled into the armchair, gulped down the bitter tonic, and sat still as Isolde coiled my hair into a complicated braid atop my head. Meanwhile, Aspen gracefully climbed the chair to perch on the arm, setting a small bag before her. “Now close your eyes and don’t move,” she said.
Obeying, I felt her climb up and down my dress sleeve, perching on one shoulder and then the other as she swept various brushes and other cosmetic tools across my features.
“Lovely!” Isolde proclaimed at last, allowing me to stand and ushering me toward the door. She pointed at a pair of boots, and I stepped into them. When I hesitated, my pain flaring when I tried and failed to crouch down to reach the laces, Isolde sighed and kneeled to tie them herself. As she straightened, she scanned my face. “Good work, Aspen.”
“My work is always perfect,” Aspen retorted.
“You must hurry,” Isolde went on when I hesitated at the door in confusion. “Darkgrove will be your escort. There’s no time for you to go gawk at yourself in the mirror, though I suppose for a plain human you’d be amazed what we were able to do for you.” She rolled her eyes.
Without another word or any further explanation, she turned the knob and gently but firmly shoved me out the door.
I blinked up at the flickering chandelier overhead, filling a stone hallway that would otherwise be austere with buttery light. Before I could move, Garrick stepped forward from a shadowy alcove beside a tapestry depicting a brutal war, extending a heavy fur coat toward me.
“What is this for?” I asked.
Garrick himself was clothed in a fur coat that hung to his thighs and trousers tucked into heavy leather boots. Contrary to the cold expression he’d worn the last time I’d seen him, the night I’d been forced into the arena, a bit of warmth flared in his eyes. Was he relieved to see me well? His gaze skated over my form. “To stay warm, Starlight. Unless you’ve learned how to wield fire magic as well.”
I swallowed, trying to reconcile the man before me—the one who reminded me of the friend who’d protected and flirted with me—with the one who’d watched me stone-faced while I’d walked into the arena. Silently, I slipped my arms into the coat and buttoned it up as Garrick started strolling down the hall, clearly expecting me to follow.
Thankfully, the vial Isolde had given me had finally taken effect, dulling the pain in my ribs so that my movements and breaths were no longer accompanied with a throbbing, stabbing sensation. I picked up my pace, my silver skirt swishing around me as I trailed Garrick down a long flight, our steps muted on the heavy carpet. The castle itself was quiet, full of the dull grey light of winter. Each window we passed afforded a view of a land freshly laden in snow, the clouds that shrouded the sun promising even more snow.
“We’re leaving the castle?” I ventured, trying to ignore how weak I still felt as we reached the end of the stairs only to enter another hall that seemed to stretch on forever. Hope, brittle as it was, swelled in my chest, and my mind sifted through possibilities. Leaving the castle could provide more opportunities to escape, and though I wasn’t as adept at using my magic as I’d like, maybe there were fae out there who would be kind to me when they saw the power I possessed. If the citizens of Silverfrost thought I might have royal blood, maybe they’d be willing to help me.
Or maybe they’d do anything in their ability to force me to stay, desperate for my blood to hold back the creatures of the underworld from flooding into their land.
Garrick slowed his steps enough that I was able to match his strides, coming alongside him. He shot me a furtive glance, his expression neutral, yet not cold. My absurd heart twinged in response. “Yes, we are venturing outside, to the capital city. The people are eager to meet you, and the king and queen have agreed you should.”
Nerves danced in my stomach. Somehow I didn’t believe that they were truly happy about my surviving their arena and tricks. Maybe they planned to murder me in some other public way beyond the castle walls.
I shoved it aside and searched Garrick’s face. “You saved me.”
Something like fear darted across his expression. “It was the least I could do.”
I swallowed. “Did you do it for them?”
He stepped closer, his eyes desperate, and opened his mouth.
But whatever he’d meant to say wasn’t meant to be. At the end of the hall, a pair of guards opened a set of carved double doors leading into a great hall. Garrick jerked away from me. “Come,” he said, striding toward the hall’s entrance.
Heart throbbing with a confusing mixture of hope and hurt, I obeyed. The hall was full of warm hearths burning brightly and countless tables and chairs where fae were deep in conversation. Servants—both fae and glamoured humans—strolled back and forth, carrying trays or relaying messages. Heavily armed guards lined the walls.
At the far end was a dais with two exquisitely carved thrones of white birchwood, but both sat empty.
“Miss Cantwell.” King Preston’s voice caused a feeling to skitter down my spine akin to the sensation of ice melting along skin. “Or perhaps I should say...Miss Silverfrost?”
I turned to find him and his sister behind us, clothed in lavish fur robes, their crowns sparkling in their dark hair. A longsword was strapped to Preston’s back, while Nerissa bore no weapons that I could see. She was in another sweeping gown, though this one was pinned up on one side, revealing heavy boots that indicated she, too, was ready for travel.
Meeting King Preston’s bloody gaze, I dipped my head in silent respect. “I have always been Miss Cantwell, and that is the name I am comfortable answering to,” I said diplomatically.
Queen Nerissa laughed, the sound rich yet haunting. She studied me like one would eye a bug pinned beneath them. “It’s true we aren’t entirely convinced of your bloodline just yet, though your magical display in the arena was impressive.”
King Preston shrugged and extended his arm toward me.
I bit back the urge to grimace as I took it and let him sweep me close to his side. Dipping his head, he whispered in my ear, the unwelcome sensation of his tickling breath making me flinch. “Try anything, and we’ll set our wolf on you. It’s your blood that makes you important, mortal, and that is all. Don’t grow too comfortable.”
Revulsion swept through me as Preston tugged me down the hall toward another set of doors, which a pair of guards pulled inward with a heavy groan. Icy wind bit my cheeks and deposited snowflakes in my hair as we descended a set of stone stairs leading into a courtyard. Already, servants stood beside a cluster of horses that were stomping their hooves and snorting in the cold air. While Queen Nerissa and an assortment of servants and attendants mounted their own steeds—including, I noted, Isolde, who must have hurriedly dressed after preparing me—King Preston released my arm and gestured toward a horse.
“Am I to have my own mount then?” I asked, trying to keep my tone even and disinterested as Preston approached a fine black stallion.
He laughed as he swung effortlessly into the saddle, his gaze cutting into me like a knife. “Not at all.” He nodded to Garrick.
“My faithful dog will be watching you,” Queen Nerissa supplied, tossing her long hair over one shoulder. In the soft winter light, her pale skin and sharp cheekbones were even more harshly beautiful. “That way if you have any unfortunate ideas of abandoning your people, Your Majesty, you’ll have a hunter on your trail.”
Garrick’s expression was stony as he approached the dappled gelding. It bore no saddle, only a thick blanket draped over its back. When he glanced down at me, offering his hand, my heart lodged in my throat.
“I’ve never ridden without a saddle,” I protested weakly, but the human servant had already reached for my dress, lifting it to the side and expertly pinning it up. Unfortunately, that left far more of my leg bare than I was comfortable with, leaving my skin exposed to the frigid air.
“A little cold, but that’s what your furs are for,” Queen Nerissa said when she saw me cringe.
Swallowing, I turned to Garrick, who set his hands on my waist. A gasp lodged in my throat at the sudden touch, and I was thankful for the gloves he wore that provided an extra layer between us. Still, the warmth of his body seeped into me immediately, and I couldn’t ignore the jolt of awareness that spread over me. As he set me on the horse’s back, he leapt easily behind me and accepted the reins from the servant. I tried to move forward, fighting to put distance between Garrick and me.
But that was impossible. There was only enough room for me to sit flush against him, my back pressed to his chest. His warmth enveloped me, chasing away the chill as his arms wrapped around me to secure the reins and lead the gelding. I was effectively in his embrace, all too aware of his every heartbeat and every breath as his chest rose and fell behind me.
As the gates creaked open, our horses cantered out of the courtyard, their hooves clattering against the cobblestones.
Embarrassed, I leaned away, trying to let the winter breeze cool the flush in my cheeks. Hoping to distract myself, I tried to focus on my surroundings rather than the man seated far too close to me.
Beyond the iron gates was a twisting stone road made precarious with its slick layers of ice and snow, especially when it dipped downward, toward the foot of the mountain. But as we slowed to a leisurely pace, I found the view was stunning, affording glimpses of nearby snow-capped peaks. Pine trees added jolts of bright green color to the landscape and filled the air with their fresh scent. Far below, our destination crouched beside the lake I’d spotted my first day here, just a smooth sheet of ice dusted with snow. Chimney smoke curled up from the rows of snow-powdered homes, looking inviting in a way I hoped wasn’t deceptive.
As we rounded our first bend, I tried to shuffle away from Garrick even more.
“Trying to fall off the horse?” Garrick teased, his voice rumbling in his chest until I could feel it against my back. He tightened his arms, pulling me against him.
I squirmed, failing to get away and only sliding backward. I hadn’t thought I could fall any closer to Garrick, and yet I did, until I was nearly in his lap.
My face burned with embarrassment and frustration. I was supposed to be furious with this man. My mind screamed that I couldn’t trust him. But I couldn’t forget that he was the one who’d come to my rescue repeatedly, who’d tenderly carried me from danger. The one who’d joined me in studying the stars. The one who’d looked at me like I mattered.
“This is...unbecoming for a lady,” I whispered fiercely. Glancing over my shoulder, I found myself startlingly close to Garrick’s face, his breath warm against my cheeks as his mouth twisted in a smirk.
“No one cares here. They only want to know you won’t leave Silverfrost, and that means they want you as close to me as you can be.”
“To ensure I don’t escape?”
Was that regret in Garrick’s eyes, melting the lighthearted grin that had concealed his cares? I wasn’t sure, didn’t know what I could trust about him anymore. He looked as if he wanted to say something, but like earlier, he didn’t.
“If I promise not to run,” I pressed, “could I have my own horse?”
As if the pained look had never existed, Garrick’s eyes shone once again with mischief. He bent his head until his chin rested on my shoulder, his lips brushing against the shell of my ear. The scents of leather and fur wrapped around me. “Then I wouldn’t have the pleasure of your company.”
Against my will, my stomach flipped, and my whole body tingled pleasantly from his close proximity. “You betrayed my trust, Mr. Darkgrove,” I said. My gaze darted about, ensuring that no one riding before or beside us could hear our quiet conversation, though I wasn’t sure if their fae hearing would pick up what a human’s could not. “And you told me before you weren’t flirting with me. It certainly sounds as if you are now.”
“I may have said I was trying not to flirt, Starlight, but you’re awfully fun to tease.”
I didn’t know what to make of this man, or the conflicting emotions he stirred within me. “I’m not speaking to you anymore.”
We rode on in silence to the foot of the mountain, our pace picking up once we reached the flat path leading into the city. The scents of woodsmoke, roasted meat, and sweet pastries wafted on the breeze, making my stomach grumble even though I’d had my fill at breakfast. Sleeping and healing for so long had left me ravenous.
King Preston pulled his stallion up beside Garrick’s and mine as we neared the first cluster of homes nestled on the outskirts of the city, a collection of wood cabins alongside grand estates of fine stonework. “Your people are eager to see you, Florentia,” Preston murmured, his gaze cutting to mine.
I swallowed. “I prefer Ren.” My voice was quiet, meek. I wished I had the courage to make it stronger, more commanding.
Preston arched a brow in silent question, while behind me, Garrick stiffened. The king leaned over, lowering his tone so that only Garrick and I could hear. “Your preferences don’t matter, mortal. We’ll test you again...and even if you do prove to have Silverfrost heritage, you are still a lowly human. Unworthy of the crown. As I said before, the only thing important about you is your blood. The people may celebrate you, but most of us see you for what you are: pathetic, with a short life with little meaning.”
As he sat back in his saddle, plastering on a fake smile, I turned away, feeling that angry storm building within me again. Unfortunately, my magic was once again distant, leaving nothing but an ache in my bones.
I scanned the area, but unless forget-me-nots could influence magic without one directly touching them—in which case, the other fae would be affected too—I saw no sign of any nearby. So why was my magic so difficult to wield, when before it had come so naturally? I might not have known how to control it well, but I’d been able to manifest it easily enough.
My thoughts scattered as we entered the city proper, where, despite the frigid air, countless people were gathered around fire pits along the road, cheering and waving silver ribbons. I blinked, shocked when I realized the name they were shouting was mine.
Or close to mine.
“Florentia Silverfrost!” they cried, fae of every color and size beaming at me as if my blood truly could hold back the creatures of the underworld.
Everywhere, cozy shops and cottages were adorned in sheets of ice, some appearing magical and impossible, as if they’d been carved from blocks of ice themselves. Others reminded me of miniature snow-capped mountains, their floors topped with rocky peaks and their cavernous entrances adorned by engraved doors or sparkling sheets of ice. A few others seemed to be only made of snow, pure white and almost blinding to look at, crafted in beautiful layers.
Despite their cozy homes, it appeared every citizen was gathered outside, strumming instruments, dancing, or roasting spits of meat or fruits.
“It’s a celebration, all in your honor,” King Preston muttered, just loudly enough that I could hear over the music and the shouts. “Smile and relish it, Your Majesty. Our court knows how powerless you truly are.”
I pursed my lips as Garrick tensed again, but he didn’t say anything. If you despise me, why keep me alive? I wanted to demand of Preston, but the crowd was growing louder the deeper we wound into the city, and I wasn’t sure he’d hear me if I tried to speak. Besides, the answer was in front of me. I was a symbol of hope for the people of Silverfrost, and if Preston and Nerissa killed me without covering it up in some way, their citizens would likely revolt.
My skin prickled as I scanned the countless people—a woman with butterfly wings, a man with antlers, pixies like Aspen dancing on top of a box outside of a shop, and green-skinned children laughing and tossing snowballs at one another. These people were my power. Maybe they wouldn’t help me escape, but would they help me gain my freedom in some other way? As long as the citizens of Silverfrost loved me, I had a modicum of strength against the cruel fae who owned me.
Once we reached the town square, Preston and Nerissa paused our procession and lifted their hands, calling for silence. Everywhere, people hushed to listen, wings fluttering, tails flickering, and faun hooves stomping. A sprite alighted on a nearby fountain, its water drained for the frozen months.
“Citizens of Northelm, words cannot express our joy at seeing your festivity and happiness today,” Queen Nerissa began, her words echoing off the walls around us. “It gives us great hope to know that there is a possibility a member of our dear Silverfrost royal line survived, and that we may have found that survivor at last.”
Cheers arose, their thunder reverberating in my chest. I swallowed and shifted in the saddle, uncomfortable with the attention from the countless eyes boring into me. Most seemed reverent, but a few looked greedy, as if they, like Preston, only saw me for the blood I carried. The tool I could be.
Garrick’s arms tightened around me, though I wasn’t sure if he meant the motion to be comforting or restraining, keeping me from running.
Like I had anywhere to go.
“Though Miss Florentia Cantwell’s magical display in our castle arena showed great promise, we know we would be remiss if we didn’t ensure she was who she claims to be before we celebrate fully. We unfortunately have days of waiting left until the winter solstice, when she could use her blood to seal the entrance to the underworld and erase all our doubts with her enduring protection. I expect you to remain here in Silverfrost for this grand occasion to celebrate, rather than partaking of your usual revels in the human city of Altidvale.”
This time there was scattered applause. Men and women glanced at one another in confusion and doubt. I could practically read their thoughts: If our queen isn’t certain she is a Silverfrost, have we begun to hope too soon?
“Thankfully, we need not wait that long. She can prove herself before then. As you know, we already have creatures of the underworld in our midst, the ones who slip through our unsealed door each night.” Quiet and fear, so heavy it felt like a tangible thing weighing the air, settled over the crowd. “Florentia Cantwell can prove her mettle in another trial.”
Queen Nerissa turned toward me, her smile wide. Though some might have seen the look as admiring and respectful, a proud queen eager to welcome a long-lost royal, I saw right through the fa?ade. She was only eager to see me fail. Her dark red eyes sparkled with glee. “Just as her ancestors managed to do before her, fulfilling their duty to protect our people, Florentia will incapacitate an underworld creature.”