Chapter 16 #3
I flex my hands under the water, watching the colors swirl around my fingers, but the feeling doesn’t go away.
Maybe I’m just overthinking things and my nerves are fried from everything that’s happened tonight.
Or maybe, I should stop drinking alcohol, because clearly, I'm not built for this.
I sink lower, letting the water cover my shoulders, as if that alone could wash away the buzzing in my ears. I should be relaxing. I should be clearing my mind and thinking about what an amazing day we've had. Or, I don't know, check on my best friend. Instead, my thoughts are circling back to him.
I curse myself immediately for letting Kane take up even one more second of my night. He’s like a splinter I can’t dig out.
Kane McWalking Distraction is not my problem.
I tilt my head back, inhaling deeply, letting the scent of lavender fill my lungs. I just need sleep. One night and this castle has my head spinning.
Once I finally start to let go of the day’s chaos, and relax, I see a little shimmer out of the corner of my eye. I sit up, scanning the room, but all I see is my necklace on the nightstand.
Oh, the fire was making it look like it was glowing. It almost looked like it was breathing.
I blink, letting out a slow breath, shaking my head. But then it happens again. And just like before, the tingling in my hands starts up again, stronger this time.
I reach for a towel and cross the room. What if… You know what, never mind.
I pick up the necklace and the second I do, I'm on fire.
I can feel it crackling along my skin, making every hair on my body stand up, and I start to get a little light headed.
“What the hell,” I whisper, gripping the edge of the nightstand as the room sways around me.
A slow, hot pulse blooms in my chest, leaving a tingling wake in its path. My heartbeat slams against my ribs, and I'm honestly wondering if I'm having a heart attack.
I blink quickly, trying to anchor myself, trying to breathe through the dizziness, but it’s no use.
Then, like a lightning strike, a memory crashes through me like it was yesterday.
I’m curled up in the tub, and the steam is curling around me while I play in it with my fingers. My grandmother sits on the edge, and I can smell her from here. She always smells like lavender and honey.
The air outside had been sharp as knives. It's the kind of cold that seeps into your bones and refuses to leave. My muscles still ache, just thinking about it. I swam across the lake, just like I was told.
She hums softly while she works the conditioner through my tangled curls, her fingers always so gentle.
I sink deeper, letting the warmth chase away the cold.
“What are you humming, Marjorie?” My voice is thick with exhaustion.
She pauses before she smiles down at me, and I love the way her eyes crinkle at the corners.
“You know you can just call me Grandma, right?” She teases, but her fingers never stop their careful path through my hair.
I shrug, leaning back against the edge of the tub. “I know. But I love your name. It sounds special… so I want to say it as much as I can.”
A soft chuckle rumbles through her chest—my favorite sound. It's as warm the bathwater and as magical as the stories she always spun around me.
“Do you remember the story I told you about the witch who could catch lightning?”
I nod without hesitation.
This was her favorite story. One I already know by heart, but I stay quiet, letting her voice stitch the tale into the air again.
“She only wanted to fall in love,” she begins, keeping her voice low, so only we could hear.
“But she was cursed, you see, for she was powerful. Too powerful.”
I slow my breathing and let my eyes drift close while I listen.
“They called her the Winter Queen, because her sadness lingered like the frost on the earth.
She longed for love so desperately, but no matter how many men adored her, none truly saw her.
They just saw her beauty and her power. Isn't it ironic that the one who could melt the ice inside her heart never came.”
I can feel her fingers continue their slow, soothing path through my hair, but the story itself carries a chill. Despite how warm the water is, I still shiver.
“In her despair, she swore to the heavens,” she continues, like she’s telling me a secret only meant for my ears.
“She pleaded with them. ‘Who do I have to speak to?’ she cried. ‘How can I break this curse? Change this, please!’”
Her words coiled around me, and I can only imagine how that must have felt.
“No matter how many times she found herself on her knees in the woods, pleading with the moon, nothing happened. It didn't even matter how many letters she burned, sending her words into the night sky in hopes that the Goddess Clea would hear, nothing changed.”
Her voice dips with sorrow.
“The years slipped by, one after another, and still… no sign of her soulmate. No promise of love.”
“The longer she waited, the more she withdrew,” my grandmother whispers.
“Her duties, once her pride and joy, slowly fell away as her hope dimmed, fading like the winter sun.”
There's a beat of silence before she speaks again.
“That’s when they began to call her the Winter Queen. Not for the season itself, but for the cold that settled around her, everywhere she went. It was because of her loneliness, her despair… and the unbearable weight of her longing.”
A sudden flash of lightning splits the sky, and it rips me from the memory like a slap of cold air.
I gasp, and my whole body jerks forward while my vision reels. My breath gets stuck somewhere in my throat and the necklace slips out of my fingers, landing on the rug with a soft thud.
The vivid image of my grandmother fades, dissolving into the candlelight while my heart hammers in my chest. I feel disoriented by the sudden shift, so I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to hold onto the rest of the story.
What came next? What did she say after that?