Ice Queen Read online

  It was something she should not have done.

  The very second their bare hands touched, the magic in Frost’s body soared to life, a fluttering power so strong she couldn’t fight it. Amara turned to ice before her very eyes, caught with true fear on her face, the blue of her icy body glimmering in the sun.

  “No,” Frost cried, releasing her hold on her, watching with a sinking stomach as Amara’s frozen body fell backward, colliding with the floor and shattering into a thousand sharp, jagged pieces. “No.” She fell to her knees, her dress fluttering about around her. The ice digging into her knees, the pieces littering the floor—they were her sister.

  She’d killed her sister.

  She’d killed them all.

  Frost lurched awake, gasping for breath as she felt her chest. No fancy dress on her body, no diamonds sewn into its fabric. Just her normal leather ensemble, and a head of hair that hadn’t seen a brush in years.

  Blue had made his way to her bedside during the night, and he lifted his furry head, meeting her eyes as she swung her legs off the bed and stood, swaying a little as she did.

  That…had been one awful dream. Frost did not want to have nightmares like that, for they only served as a reminder of what she did. The truth…the truth was so much worse. In the heart of what happened in Wysteria, why it had turned into a land of never-ending winter, the facts made everything worse.

  “Well, Blue, what do you want to do today? I’ll let you choose.” The way Frost spoke to Blue, like he was a real person, might’ve been strange to some, but she’d found he was smarter than a lot of people, plus he was her only company. One could not blame her for acting as if he was another person. And, anyway, she only wanted to fill her mind and her hands with something so she would be too busy to think back on that nightmare.

  Blue…Blue wanted to play fetch.

  He was like a dog, really. A big, white, wolf-sized dog who enjoyed the little things in life, evidently.

  Frost had followed Blue to a clearing, and the wolf had his muzzle in the snow for a few minutes before digging out a large stick, dropping it before her with a bark and a wag of his tail. She sighed as she bent to pick it up. Today, the sky was clear, a bright blue above the vast expanse of white below. The sun reflecting off the snow was almost too much, but her eyes had gotten used to it.

  She tossed the stick as far as she could throw it, grinning to herself as she watched Blue dart across the snowy landscape. She laughed, hooting and hollering as Blue began to make his way back—but the wolf only got halfway before he froze, dropping his stick and cocking his head. Frost watched as his hackles raised, and deep inside herself, she knew she wasn’t alone.

  That, and the ground under her had started to shake somewhat.

  She spun, watching as a being of snow and ice hurdled over the nearby hill, racing to the clearing where she and Blue were. A snowman of proportions that were twice the size of her. Frost hadn’t made it with her magic, but surely she could end it.

  With one hand, she told Blue to stay put, not wanting the wolf anywhere near the magical creature. With her other, she swiped through the cool air, seeking to take the life from the menacing thing—but nothing happened. Her magic cackled and sizzled, ready to be used, but absolutely nothing happened.

  Nothing. Happened.

  Frost was so shocked nothing happened that she was frozen, watching as the lumbering being hurdled closer, reaching for her, picking her up off the ground as if she weighed nothing. She knew this place was taking on magic of its own, but this seemed a little extreme, didn’t it? This made no sense whatsoever.

  The snowman’s eyeless face peered at her, and the snowy hand clutching her was full of ice and rocks; none of them broke her skin, but she was mighty uncomfortable. Blue growled from a safe distance away.

  “Put me down,” Frost ordered, feeling her emotions swelling within her. If this snowman wanted a fight, he’d get one. She’d be more than happy to end this…this thing, whatever it was. Wherever it came from. When the snowman only stared at her, she added, “Now.”

  But it did not move a muscle. Not a single snowy muscle.

  Just as she started to feel the magic taking over, something shattered the air behind the behemoth, and the snowman froze, exploding into dozens of pieces of ice and snowballs, all dropping to the ground. Frost fell onto the ground with a hard thud, and behind her, Blue still growled, because even though the snowman was gone, they still weren’t alone.

  A man stood, twenty feet away, cloaked in black. He was tall and thin, fast and lean. A hood hung over his head, fabric covering his neck and his mouth. The only bit of skin she could see, and the only part of him that wasn’t covered in black was his eyes. Knives of all sizes were attached to his body, along his chest, down his sides and on his thighs. Even on his boots.

  Frost spotted a sharp metal dagger in the snow before her, knowing in her gut that the man had thrown it at the snowman. She instantly noted that his fingers toyed with another one, as if he was readying himself to throw dagger number two, either at her or at Blue.

  That was something she would not allow. The snowman might’ve caught her off-guard, but this man? This man wouldn’t get her. She would die trying to get away.

  Letting out a grunt, Frost lifted her hand from her side, moving it up in the air. A wall of shimmering, blue ice appeared between them at the base of her feet, jutting out of the ground out of nowhere, thirty feet high and just as wide.

  Frost got to her feet, scurrying away from the ice wall. She had no idea what the man was capable of, but he looked…well, she’d never before seen an assassin, but he certainly looked like one, with his getup and all those knives, not to mention how he’d snuck up on the snowman. She didn’t want to underestimate him. Doing so might be her last mistake, and she didn’t feel like dying today.

  No, today—strangely—she felt like living. If anyone was going to end her life, to stop any more breaths from coming out or into her lungs, it would be her, no one else.

  “I guess that answers my question,” the man spoke, his voice startlingly deep, rough and scratchy.

  With Blue at her side, Frost turned, watching as the man leaned on the other side of the ice wall, watching her. How did he…how was he so fast? She hadn’t heard him make a single movement. Blue bared his teeth, the growl coming from him low and vicious.

  The man still held onto the throwing knife, but he no longer fiddled with it like he was going to use it on her. His eyes were a dark brown, almost black, blending in with the rest of his outfit, and they were focused on her. “I would make sure that wolf behaves himself, otherwise I’ll be returning to Springvale with a new fur pelt.”

  She lifted a hand, tossing more magic his way. Tiny icicles formed in the air, shooting at the man. He was too fast, though. Much too fast. The icicles soared, hitting the ice wall and lodging themselves deep as the man sidestepped and avoided the attack entirely.

  Springvale. Why on earth would an assassin from Springvale come for her? The world thought she was dead, didn’t it? All these years, no one had come for her before now. Why was he here, today, so suddenly and out of the blue?

  “Why are you here?” Frost asked, baring her teeth in a display she hoped was fierce and not stupid. “This is not your place. Leave now.”

  A low chuckle came from him, and he swirled the knife he held, clicking it back onto his hip. Now he held no weapons, but she still didn’t feel safe. For each step he took toward her, she took one back. After a minute, the ice wall crumbled into nothing, leaving but a dusting where it used to be.

  “You’re used to people fearing you,” he said, cocking his head beneath his hood. “That’s the difference between you and me, I suppose. Whereas people fear you, they don’t have the chance to fear me, because they never see me coming.” His voice was muffled a bit from the fabric covering his mouth and his nose, and the deep timbre was something she’d never heard before.

  Frost’s heart beat wildly in her chest, a
nd she fought to contain herself. The snow around her and Blue started to swirl of its own accord, reacting to her emotions. “I see you,” she said.

  She imagined him smirking beneath the lower mask. “You see me because I let you, Princess.”

  Princess. Maybe she shouldn’t have used her powers. This man knew who she was, and only terrible things could come of it. Nothing good ever came from being Eliora, firstborn Princess of Wysteria.

  “Do not call me that,” Frost spoke, fingertips itching. Beside her, Blue let out a snarl, but the man was unimpressed by both of their displays. “Why are you here, assassin?”

  “Oddly enough, it’s not to kill you.”

  Okay, that was definitely not what she was expecting. Eyebrows creasing, Frost stared at him, watching as he slowly reached for his hood, pushing it down and revealing a head of short brown hair, the same chocolatey color as his eyes. He reached for the fabric on his face, tugging it down, fully revealing himself to her.

  A clean-shaven face, a jaw so square and features so sharp she wanted to run and hide. Not a single scar rested on his pale skin. Frost felt her heart beating fast for a new reason entirely. This man was…a man. The first man she’d seen in years, and he was definitely an attractive specimen.

  Not what she should be thinking about. Not at all.

  When his breath left him, it escaped in the air with a white puff. “I’m here to bring you to your sister, Princess.” What a rude man, calling her princess even though she explicitly asked him not to…

  Wait. Sister?

  “Amara?” Frost spoke her name, feeling her knees wobble. No. No, this man had to be lying. There was no possible way that Amara was still out there, alive. No way she escaped what had happened that day… She shook her head. “Liar.”

  This man—he was a stranger to her. Handsome, yes, but a stranger nonetheless. Frost could not trust a single word the man said.

  “It’s technically Queen Amara now, but yes.” He smirked. “And no, I’m many things, but I’m not a liar.” He took a step closer to her, the intensity in his brown gaze almost too much for her to bear. “Now, are you going to come with me willingly, or will I have to restrain you? Either way, you will come with me.” His gloved fingers danced on the knives on his sides, his gaze eating her up.

  Suddenly, for the first time in a long time, Frost felt like she wasn’t clothed enough. Not because she was cold—she wasn’t—but because of the way this man stared at her, like he was starved and she was a big, juicy piece of meat, made her feel all different kinds of self-conscious.

  “I’ll admit, though,” he said, half his lips still caught up in that damned smirk, “I would enjoy tying you up.”

  “You will not be tying me up,” Frost spoke, sounding very much like the princess she no longer was. Authoritative, stern, no-nonsense. Not at all like the hermit she’d been these last few years.

  The smirk finally fell off his face as he said, “A shame.”

  Heat graced her cheeks. She had no idea why she felt so self-conscious, but she did. Surely this man hadn’t meant anything inappropriate by that, had he? Frost watched as he turned, starting to trudge off, walking over the remnants of the snowman. She and Blue did not follow him, though Blue had ceased his growling.

  The man turned as he reached for his hood, setting it atop his head once more. “Come on. We’ll have to find the others before we can take you to the Queen.”

  The prospect of seeing Amara, holding her, profusely apologizing to her for what she’d done—it was the only thing that made Frost trail after him, asking, “Others? How many of you are there?” Beside her, Blue whined, not keen on following the assassin.

  Men had come here to take her to her sister, who was a queen herself now. This day had not gone at all like Frost had thought. The winds of winter had become the winds of change; whether or not that change would be welcome remained to be seen.

  Chapter Two

  Noel had never been to the lands of Wysteria before, and after the kingdom became encased in a constant state of snow and cold temperatures, he decided he’d never visit. That was until he and the others were contacted by Queen Amara, requesting his aid. More like his services, really, for Queen Amara was going to pay them, once it was all said and done. She’d keep her word; everyone in Springvale adored her, and Noel understood why. Amara was pretty, elegant, kind; everything that made a good queen, she was.

  The other one, however, was clearly not a queen, nor was she even a princess now. By birth, technically, she was, but she was a far cry from the royal she used to be, Noel was certain. Instead of the warmth her sister radiated, Eliora oozed a coolness, her skin almost as pale as the snow itself, her hair near white. Whereas Amara’s cheeks were slightly rosy and rounded, Eliora’s were more pronounced, cut sharply. Her eyes were a light blue, the same color as the sky on a cloudless day.

  Underneath the icy exterior, Eliora was pretty, Noel decided. But then again, most princesses were.

  They trudged through the snow, heading to the rendezvous point. They’d been at it for a while now, scoping out Wysteria bit by bit, each day deciding on a place to meet up and discuss their findings before sleeping and traveling, and then doing it all again. Three men combing the wastelands of Wysteria—it was bound to take a while.

  Noel glanced at the wolf trotting by her side, slowly bringing his eyes up to her. She stared straight ahead, not at all intimidated by his presence. She had her winter magic, he supposed, so she thought she had nothing to be frightened of. Princess had no idea what he was truly capable of.

  “So,” he spoke, his voice muffled by the dark fabric clinging to his nose and cheeks. It hid his face, his identity, for those jobs when being seen but not recognized was a necessity. “Where’d you get that wolf, Eliora?”

  She cringed at the sound of her name, shooting him a dirty look with those sparkling eyes. They were perhaps the clearest azure he’d ever seen. “Don’t call me that,” she said. “Frost. Call me Frost.”

  “Frost,” Noel repeated. He knew where the name came from, but still. Why not use her birth name? Her royal, regal name? Surely she missed being a princess, living in the lap of luxury, having tons of people waiting on her, hand and foot? “All right, Frost, where’d you get that wolf?”

  “I raised him from a pup. He was abandoned by his pack,” she whispered, running a hand through the wolf’s fur as they walked. The animal seemed to love it, wagging its tail slightly.

  Noel could see the connection between them; that wolf had been her only company for however long. This princess was not used to being around other people, not anymore. “And does the wolf have a name?”

  “You may call him Blue,” she said with a shrug.

  Blue. Fitting name, given how utterly blue the wolf’s eyes were. Almost the exact same color as hers, Noel realized. Perhaps her magic had touched the creature’s heart after all.

  The wind whipped around them, drawing up the snow on the ground and twirling it into a twister of sorts. The land was beautiful, but cold and deadly, and not someplace Noel wanted to be. He much preferred warmer climates, where he could take off his clothes and be comfortable. The cold was just…too cold.

  He studied her. She wore mostly leather, a mixture of a light tan and white. Just a single layer, no coat or anything, nothing to keep out the hazards of weather such as this. “You’re truly not cold, wearing that?”

  The look she gave him asked him if he was stupid. Apparently Princess had some bite still left in her. “I was born to the cold,” she said. “Raised in it. Why would the cold bother me at all?”

  Okay, fine. He’d give it to her, but there was no need for her to get snippy with him. They were going to spend a long time together, traveling with the others to meet with Queen Amara, and then back into Wysteria to find the Jewel. A lot of traveling. A lot of snow and ice in Noel’s future. The absolute horror.

  Noel decided to keep quiet, fearing anything he said would only upset her further. An annoyed El
iora—er, Frost—would only beget more ice and snow and cold, and those were three things he did not want any more of.

  In a few hours, they made it to the spot where the others would be. They would probably have to wait a while until the others showed up, but that just meant Noel could get a head start and set up camp. He hated digging through the snow, though…

  And then he remembered he wasn’t alone.

  Noel turned toward Frost, finding her leaning on a snow-covered tree, its branches leafless. “Can you make a small clearing here? Push away the snow with your magic?” He waggled his gloved fingers, causing her to roll her eyes.

  “At least I don’t look half as stupid as you do when I do it,” she mumbled, waving a hand off to the side, as if she were swatting away a fly.

  He stared at her, ready to give the attitude right back to her, but when he glanced back at the spot, he found the snow had been moved aside. A large space, snow-free, now sat before him. He could get started on a fire, maybe do a little hunting.

  As he worked to set up a campfire, Frost watched, her arms crossed over her chest. “Are you truly an assassin?” she asked.

  “An assassin,” Noel echoed, shooting a quick glimpse at her before getting back to work. “Now what, Princess, would give you that idea?”

  She gritted her teeth. “I told you not to call me that.” When it was clear Noel wasn’t going to answer her, she went on, “Your clothes. How silent you are when you walk. All the knives on you. If you’re not an assassin, then you’re…” Frost trailed off.

  A small fire came to life before him. The branches he’d burned had been whisked of their moisture thanks to Frost and her magic. Feeling the heat, he lowered his hood and the fabric clinging to his face. Standing straight, Noel turned toward Frost, giving her a devastating smile. “A man with peculiar abilities?”

  She was unimpressed by his smile—a smile which Noel knew affected women of all kinds. Old women, young women, rich women, poor women. Even men sometimes. “You’re an assassin,” she said. “You have to be. I thought you were here to…”