Chapter 1
Chapter One
Fate
One tap of my finger and blurred rainbows ripple through the pool.
Blue swirls into pink. Lavender swirls to coral.
Teal swirls into gold. Fates past and present converge and blend, cool against my palm.
Goosebumps travel up my arm where streaks of every color cover my rose-gold skin.
In the corner of my den, the scale taunts me.
Stones stacked in every shade, tucked into every nook with purpose and intention, one for every destined union. Only it’s still slightly askew.
Not much longer I remind my reflection, inspecting the pair of rainbows beneath thick lashes. Sometimes I don’t even recognize myself. This form. Amethysts used to reside there—and rich brown before that, long before immortality took hold.
Before I became enthralled by Fate. Lifetimes ago.
A tear streaks down my cheek, shifting into purple then blue then green before it plops into the water, tiny ripples race away from the point of impact. My gaze flies upward as chimes echo through my den, wind weaving between dangling leaves, flowers, icicles, and shells.
Shaking out my hand, I wipe it on the skirt of my colorful gown.
Every color painted across its canvas, everyone beyond our veil represented.
Fate cannot show preference, after all. Every immortal and harbinger relies on my objectivity.
It’s one of the many vows I swore to uphold all those decades ago when I embraced Fate’s mantle.
The scale teeters out of the corner of my vision.
There’s more work to do. Always.
But for now it will have to wait. I grip my skirts and lift them off the floor, twirling them back and forth then spin myself one, two, three, four, and woosh—I’m staring out at Nivea—where my winter harbingers reside when they aren’t out serving the mortal realm.
I glance at the panes of ice, savoring the song of skates slicing into the floor as winter harbingers race for City Hall. Each season has one and our annual promotion ceremony rotates to keep things fair and harmonious.
Balanced.
While winter is heavily represented since it is their territory, clusters of spring, summer, and fall harbingers are scattered amongst the crowd.
I float over the ice, glittering eyes watching me curiously, excitedly, fearfully, as I pass.
Some of these folks haven’t seen me since I plucked them from Death, gifting them new lives and purpose through their immortality.
I understand their apprehension. After all, I was stolen by Fate once myself.
Though, I’d welcomed her embrace back then, knowing there was someone waiting for me on the other side.
Honorees line either side of the steps. Ascending the last few, I face the crowd, smiling out at them.
To my left three winter harbingers and two fall stand proudly.
Their opposite, one spring and five summer smile, tugging layers of coats and jackets against their torsos.
I forget how cold it is here for them. How the ice stings.
The wind lashes and the snow pricks. A comforting shiver skates up my neck.
There’s a reason why the seasons remain separate and in their designated territories.
Even these celebrations must be brief to ensure no one becomes ill.
While we can’t die again once we’ve crossed into immortality, we still experience pain and illness.
Sickness can set back a season, challenge the balance of nature, and while some seasons enjoy picking up the workload, it has caused rifts amongst the harbingers.
Fortunately, they can set those rivalries aside for days such as this.
“Welcome distinguished guests to tonight’s Ascension ceremony,” I say, waving an arm over those to be inducted.
They lift their chests as I pass over them.
“These harbingers we honor tonight have devoted decades of their lives to their duty and are examples within their communities. With their final markings earned, they will now come up one by one and be recognized, announcing their new roles beyond the veil.”
“First, we have our Frosts.” I beckon the first winter harbinger whose canines glint back at me.
He’s in low slung pants, frost marks on full display, covering every inch of him aside from his face.
At the center of his sternum, a silver whirl glows, and my smile widens.
“Congratulations Jax. Please come and tell us what you’ll be doing in Nivea. ”
He runs a hand through his white, silver, and blue streaked hair, sending it flying in all directions. His gravelly voice echoes along the icy walls. “I’ll be following in my fathers’ footsteps, taking their place as a Lead Albidus.”
His fathers hug each other tightly, staring up from the bottom of the staircase.
Next to them, his mate presses a hand to her mark, blue eyes sparkling with joy.
It’s infectious. Cheers and applause ripple through the sea of onlookers.
One by one, I call up the rest of the Frosts and they announce their new roles, eliciting shouts of approval and pride from the crowd.
After the final Frost is announced, every winter harbinger lifts a hand to the sky, snowflakes and ice skating along the wind up toward the honorees, draping them in bangles, necklaces, and crowns of wintry magic.
Gasps erupt from the back of the crowd. A thick wave of white and blue undulates above everyone’s heads.
I knit my brows together. From afar they look like a blizzard, thousands of fat flakes cascading toward the honorees.
But as they rise up and flutter down like snowfall, I see that they aren’t flakes at all.
Thousands of frost-tipped forget-me-nots flurry around us. My breath ceases, the puffs of white gone that once haloed my face. I grip the skirts of my gown as the flowers finish their dizzying descent and my gaze skips to two glittering irises, blue bursting from the pupils.
It doesn’t matter that he’s behind everyone—I’d know his stare anywhere. My chest pinches between my ribs, the phantom tug creating a fissure in the wall I erected over decades spent apart.
What is he doing here?
A throat clears, my attention zipping to the sage-green spring harbinger waiting patiently for me to continue with the ceremony. He runs a hand through his dark lavender strands, flashing an inky rose budding over the knuckles.
“B-Briar Bloom, congratulations on your Ascension.” My voice shreds up my throat and I swallow thickly, trying to smooth my tone.
There’s no logical reason for the harbinger in the back to have this effect on me after all these years.
I won’t let him. “Please come up and tell us what you’ll be doing for spring. ”
I force my attention to remain on the ceremony, smiling and clapping and dutifully announcing the rest of the harbingers one by one.
What they say, I have absolutely no idea.
By the end of the ceremony, flower petals, burnished leaves, and tiny shells blanket the floor, each season gifting their approval to their newly ascended leaders.
It isn’t until they quiet and the crunch of a leaf beneath my toes pulls my attention back, that I realize they are all staring at me—waiting for me to close out today’s ceremony.
“T-thank you for celebrating with us this evening.” I lift my skirt and curtsy before looping the train of my dress in my arms. “Feel free to enjoy the evening before returning to your respective homes.”
I whip away from them—from him—and proceed toward City Hall’s entrance.
The newly honored Ascended follow behind me, joined by their fellow leaders.
Many harbingers will go home immediately, not wanting to remain in Nivea any longer and experience its wintry discomfort, but a few curious Ascended will come to the meeting, wanting to learn more about the new leaders from other seasons.
I take my spot at the large circular table, surrounded by our realm’s leaders, scanning over each of them until my attention snags on the harbinger that towers above them all.
At nearly seven feet tall, he’s hard to miss.
Not that it matters. I felt him long before he was ever visible to me—his presence still captivating from beyond my reach, my belief.
Seeing him now is no less wondrous than it was over a century ago when I was just a young mortal woman, skating on the pond, cradling fresh fallen snow in my palms.
He hasn’t come to a meeting in decades. I suspected once there were enough leaders within winter, he’d purposefully drifted to the backdrop. It was rare that anyone came in contact with him. I knew that. I knew everything.
No one hid from Fate. Not even Jack Frost.
Now he was here, in my meeting, standing feet away from me.
If my palms could become clammy, they would have.
I still found myself wiping them onto the skirt of my dress as I ran through the changes and regional updates for the seasons around the world.
All the while, the petals of pain stung at my sternum.
In a flash, the meeting was adjourned. One by one they left and I gave a final congratulations. Ignoring the icy chill at my back, I watched Jax go meet his mate. Jolie leapt into his arms, kissing him as he carried her down the stairs.
“He told me what you did for him. Someone’s been breaking the rules it seems.” The smooth voice wraps around me in its familiar and yet so distant embrace.
When was the last time I heard the real thing?
Not a replayed memory in my whirling pool, but up close?
Was it always this deep? It roots within me, tangling up the past and present into a painful knot of thorny reality.
I swallow back the memories plucking at my composure. “I heard that rules were meant to be mastered so they could be broken.”
He arches a navy brow. “Whoever told you that sounds wise.”
My head spins and I grip my skirts, ready to whirl away and escape to my den.
Whatever’s brought him out of being Nivea’s notorious recluse can’t be good.
I need to go. I begin to twirl, hasty to escape.
I spin once. Twice. Firm hands grope my shoulders and spin me into a solid chest. I stare at his shirt, a flash of a silvery six-pointed snowflake flaring to life in my mind before the memory extinguishes.
I drag my gaze upward, chest pinching when it reaches that prismatic stare.
“What are you doing here?”
“Not even a hello? After all this time?” Fingers brush back my hair and cradle beneath my chin. His other hand pats over his chest, rubbing a few times. My throat dries. With a shake of his head, he continues. “I must say, I’m disappointed, Lizzie.”
I blink twice. I haven’t heard my true name—the one I was born with there, in the mortal world since…
My chin wobbles but I gather the courage to glance upward. Two snowflaked sapphire and silver irises stare down at me.
“Hello Jack.”
I’m painfully aware I’m in his arms. The last time I was enveloped in them—in him—his chest was stained with my tears. I’d watched the glow extinguish, one etched line at a time…
A mark forever dimmed by my choice.
Gone… along with our bond.