Ice Queen Page 5

  Frost sighed to herself as she watched the men pack up after the night. Blue was off doing his business near a tree, looking around to make sure no one was watching. For an animal, he certainly did have a nervous bladder.

  She should not be thinking about any of them. She shouldn’t allow herself to become used to their presence. They would leave. They had to. It was a little girl’s lonely wish that they would stay.

  Frost was not a little girl anymore. She hadn’t been a little girl in quite a while.

  She crossed her arms over her chest, turning to stare at the sun rising in the distance. So far, it was a cloudless day, the sky a vibrant blue. The sun danced across the snowy landscape, making everything seem brighter and whiter than it already was. When the wind whipped by, a cold embrace, Frost felt at home.

  How would she feel once she left the borders of Wysteria? Would she sweat? Would she hate the heat? It’d been so long since she’d felt anything but the comfortable coolness of the cold.

  Noel’s voice broke through her silent reverie, “Are you—” After those two words, it suddenly stopped, which she found insanely odd.

  Frost turned, about to ask him what was wrong—not that she cared, because to care about these men would only cause her harm later on—but she saw something that made her heart nearly stop. A scene out of her nightmares.

  Noel, Hale, and Douglas had turned to ice. Sheer, sparkling blue ice. Their bodies, their clothes, everything on them was ice, and Frost felt her heart plummet.

  “No,” she cried, running to them. “No, I didn’t…” I didn’t do this. I didn’t want this. The words she wanted to say but could not find the strength to. They caught in her throat, tearing her esophagus as she stared at the three icy men.

  Noel was the nearest, and she tentatively reached a hand to his face, cupping his cheek. He was caught in the middle of speaking, his mouth open, a slight quirk to his lips. Even made of ice, he was handsome.

  And then, as if punishing her for thinking that thought, his cheek started to crack. Frost yanked her hand off him, falling back as she watched the crack grow, a spiderweb of damage, something that could not be stopped or fixed. Blue meandered to her side, licking her cheek, warming her, as if trying to tell her it was okay.

  It wasn’t okay. None of this was okay. If Frost could pull the magic from her blood and be normal, she would. This…no one should live through this. No one should see this. This was…this was the worst thing she’d ever seen.

  Almost. Almost the worst thing she’d seen.

  “I’m sorry,” Frost whispered, feeling tears prickling her eyes. It was an apology that fell on deaf, icy ears. She slowly got to her feet, Blue watching her all the while, and deep inside, she hurt. An unfamiliar pang of pain, of longing, surfacing in her chest. She knew she shouldn’t have started to enjoy their company. This was always going to be the result.

  This was the end, every single time. The end of Wysteria, the end of these men. It would be the end of her.

  If only Frost could turn herself into ice, and then no one would ever have to die at her hands ever again…

  Frost woke to a dark sky, clouds covering the moon and stars. A dream, she was relieved to find, sitting up and seeing all three men asleep near the dull ashes of the fire. A dream. They were all alive and well. Her magic hadn’t turned them to ice after all. It was a gigantic relief, though the relief was short-lived.

  Her relief for these three men being alive did not change what happened in the past.

  She sat up, causing Blue to look at her, his eyes glimmering brightly, even in the darkness of the night. Magic, through and through. She gave him a smile, cooing him, petting him until he laid his head back down, and then she stood, moving away from the camp.

  Her feet met the snow, and she walked through its foot and a half depth like it was nothing. The wind, the cold, none of it affected her. What did affect Frost was her dream. Her nightmare. So vivid it felt real. Her heart still beat faster than it should’ve, and she closed her eyes, hating that she felt this way.

  If only she was different. If only she had no magic. If she had no magic, the kingdom of Wysteria would still be a prosperous kingdom and not a desolate wasteland of cold and snow.

  It was far too late to pine for things that could not be. Frost was stuck with her magic, whether she liked it or not. She thought she’d grown used to the fact, but these men…being around them, laughing with them, getting to know them as they traveled—these men made her wish things were different.

  But some things simply were.

  Frost heaved a great sigh, swiping at her eyes as tears began to fall. Now was not the time to feel sad. If she felt sad, she’d need a release, and running away to do a bit of magic didn’t seem like a good idea.

  The sounds of footsteps behind her, crunching the snow until the man responsible stood beside her, caused her to turn her head, meeting the azure stare of Douglas, whose mouth was a thin line in his dark beard. She stood level with his shoulder, but even so, she felt imperceptibly small beside him. She was a stick compared to his musculature. She wasn’t even sure how a man could become so solid and well-built.

  “Tell me you’re not thinking of running off again,” he said, glancing at her.

  It’d been a long time since that first day, when she’d tried to make a run for it. A very long time since she’d thought about running away. No, now it was too late. Now she was in this, whatever this was, for her sister. For these men, even if she was just a job. At least they’d get paid. At least they’d be happy when it was all said and done.

  “No,” she said slowly, the wind whipping at her braid. “I’m not going to run.”

  “Good, because I’m the slowest out of us, and I’d hate to wake them up to chase after you.”

  Frost examined him. He was bundled up, sword-less. Without the sword attached to his back, he seemed like…well, simply like a man. Not a warrior, not someone doing a job. He just was. “I am sorry I ran away on the first day,” she said. “My emotions get the better of me sometimes.” She remembered being tied up, her hands behind her back, recalled being cradled against Douglas’s chest. His chest, wide as it was, was hard, like a rock.

  “I can understand that,” he said. “You’ve been alone for years, so there was bound to be some adjustment.”

  “I wasn’t alone. I had Blue.”

  Douglas smirked. “Blue is a wolf. It’s not the same as it would be with a person. It’s a different level of company.”

  “Oh, so you’re saying your company is better than Blue’s?”

  Their eyes met. “Are you saying it’s not?” he shot back, sounding anything but hurt. Mostly, he sounded inquisitive, curious, almost playful. His black hair was combed to the side, revealing a seep-set line on his forehead, almost mimicking the scar running down his face’s left side.

  Frost was the one who broke eye contact first, something strange happening in her chest. That same longing feeling. Wishing for something more that she knew could never happen. “That is not what I said. Blue has been by my side, and he will remain by my side, even after you three are long gone.”

  “You know,” Douglas started, hesitantly reaching for her, placing his rough, gloved hand on her shoulder, almost like a friend, “no one said you have to live in the snow by yourself. I’m sure your sister would let you stay in the castle with her, should you wish to. It isn’t good to be alone for so long.”

  Having a home that was not made of ice…Frost had the damnedest time thinking about it.

  She was slow to say, “If you knew what I did, you would not suggest something like that.” What Frost should do was move away from his hand, but she found its presence on her shoulder strangely comforting, the way his fingers curled around her oddly soothing. And the heat coming through his glove…the heat was stronger than anything she’d felt in years.

  Body heat.

  She and Blue ran cold; she’d forgotten how warm other people were. It was nice…and yet another
thing she should not get used to.

  “We’ve all done bad things,” Douglas said, slow to drop his hand off her shoulder, grazing her arm as his fell back to his side. “We’ve all done things we’re not proud of. Don’t let your past define you, Frost. If you want to be better, be better. Don’t wallow, and don’t blame your emotions. You are in control.”

  The words were stern, and Frost felt them like a slap to the face.

  “I’ll see you in the morning,” Douglas added before wandering back to camp, taking up his place near Hale and Noel.

  She watched him go, frowning to herself. Who in all of Wysteria was he to tell her that she was wallowing? And, even if she was wallowing, didn’t she deserve to? These men, they had no idea what the truth was, the true horror of her magic.

  Horror. That’s what it was. It was sheer, utter horror.

  After a while, Frost meandered back to Blue’s side, curling up with him. Somehow, sleep must’ve come to her, because the next thing she knew, she was slowly coming to, dawn’s light creeping over her.

  Blue was gone, and she sat up, looking all around for him. She would’ve called out for him, but then she’d wake the guys, who looked as if they were still sleeping. Frost got to her feet, finding his paw prints in the snow. She ended up tracking them away from camp, and what she found was startling.

  Blue’s paw prints…and quite a few others Frost knew did not belong to her or the men.

  Someone else was here.

  Instead of going after Blue, Frost spun and ran back to camp, finding a man kneeling over Hale’s sleeping form. A man wearing all brown, a small patch on the side of his arm. A soldier. She recognized the crest. A soldier from Fenburn?

  Instant anger, hot and wild, coursed through her when she saw the man lift a dagger, about to stab Hale while he was asleep. She lifted her hands, feeling the magic pumping through her, begging her for its release, but someone, another soldier, came at her from behind, pinning her arms to her body and holding a sword to her neck.

  It needn’t have mattered though, for Hale wasn’t asleep. In a flash of movement, he had his bow in his hands, using it to disarm the man kneeling over him, knocking the dagger from his grip. As it skidded across the dead, flat grass, Douglas leaped up, reaching for his sword, yanking it from the ground as three other men appeared, donning their blades.

  Douglas kept the three newcomers at bay easily, using his size and his strength to his advantage, while Hale wrestled with the other. Noel propped himself up, yawned, and tossed a lazy look around. So much for a deadly assassin.

  “Well, isn’t this a terrible thing to wake up to in the morning,” Noel muttered, his fingers inching toward the multitude of knives displayed on his body, but he stopped the moment he saw Frost and the man holding her at bay. His expression darkened, and because his face was not hidden by his cloth mask, Frost was able to witness just how terrifying he could be.

  The happy-go-lucky Noel was gone, a whole different person than the Noel who currently stood across from her and the soldier holding a sword to her throat. A downright murderous expression spread across his face, his eyes practically black and deadly.

  “If you value your life,” Noel said, completely ignoring the other fighting happening around him, “release her, and do it now.”

  “No can do,” the soldier behind her sneered, his voice jarring to her ears. Or maybe it just felt like that because of the sword threatening to dig into her neck. He was strong, firmly holding her arms to her sides. Maybe she could freeze the hand holding them down, but that wouldn’t stop him from dragging the sharp blade across her throat. “We need her, so she’s coming with us.”

  If they needed her, they wouldn’t kill her…would they? “Noel,” Frost whispered his name, feeling the metal prick against her skin.

  “Hush,” Noel stated, “you’re going to be fine.” His eyes spotted something behind her, focusing on something other than the soldier. “Can’t say the same for these guys, though.” In a blur of motion, he yanked three throwing knives off his body, throwing two at the group surrounding Douglas. Both landed right in the base of the neck, and Douglas used the distraction to do a clean sweep through the air, cleaving off the third man’s head.

  With his third knife, Noel spun, impossibly fast as he shot the blade into the other soldier’s head. Hale had an arrow nocked and ready to fire, and instead of aiming at the soldier who Noel had just taken care of, he turned and pointed it at Frost and the soldier behind her.

  “You will pay for that,” the final soldier growled out. Frost felt the pressure increase between her skin and the blade, a sharp pain…and then there was nothing.

  There was only nothing because Blue had appeared behind them, lunging at the arm holding the sword, digging his teeth into the man’s tender skin. The sudden attack made the soldier howl in pain, gave Frost enough leeway to escape his hold and avoid the sword. The man took his sword in his other hand, a snarl on his face as he readied himself to stab Blue.

  No.

  Frost lifted a single hand, a gust of snow appearing, rising from the ground, hardening into ice as it curled around the man’s other arm. A block of ice hardened around his arm and his sword, and the moment Blue released his arm, the soldier tipped to the ground, unable to pick up either arm. One, because it was bloodied and hardly recognizable after Blue’s fangs got into it, and the other because it was encased in an ice block.

  Her blood was icy, and Frost knelt beside the man, gripping his face as hard as she could. His head was free of any helmet or hood, allowing her to watch as she slowly started to freeze his skin, just with the contact of hers. It was like she could see only red. This man…she wanted to kill him.

  Had she ever been so bloodthirsty before? Had she ever wanted to end someone’s life so much? These soldiers were going to kill Douglas, Hale, and Noel, and they were going to take her. No, this man would not survive this encounter.

  “Whoa, there,” Douglas’s voice entered her ears, and before she had the chance to end the soldier’s life, two hands grabbed her upper arms, pulling her off him. “Let’s see what the man has to say.”

  Frost shook him off, shooting him a glare. Figuring out why they wanted her…yes, that made sense. But still, she could not fight the emotions warring within her. She let out a strange, stifled cry, flinging her arms to the side. On the nearest tree, a wall of ice shot out of the ground, erupting from the snow and cracking through the tree’s bark. A wall of spikes, sharp and glinting.

  Hale moved beside her, setting his arrow back in its quiver before laying a hand on her lower back. “It’s okay,” he said. “We’re all okay.” Words meant to be comforting, but all Frost wanted to do was scream.

  She closed her eyes, focusing on the hand on her back. A gentle touch, soft and tender.

  “We’re okay,” Noel’s voice cut through her mind, sounding cruel and conniving, “but your friends aren’t, and I’d bet my money that you’re not going to be okay, either.”

  When Frost opened her eyes, she found Noel dragging a knife down the man’s chest, taunting but not hurting him. Yet. The soldier was in obvious pain, his arms too heavy and too injured to be of use. Blue sat beside him, hackles raised, growling a low, thrumming sound.

  Noel glanced at the patch on his uniform. “Fenburn soldiers,” he said. “Is there any reason why a scouting party of Fenburn soldiers was so far into Wysteria—and so close to Springvale’s borders?”

  The soldier grinned. “Like I’ll tell you anything.” He was met with a fist to the face. Noel’s knife-free hand moved so fast, it was a blur in the air. Right in the nose. A trail of blood soon followed, and the soldier still acted like a tough guy, even with his face partially frozen and his arms useless.

  “Now, unless you want me yanking out those teeth one by one,” Noel warned, flashing his knife before him, “tell me what I want to know.” When the soldier said nothing, he grabbed him by the chin and slowly brought the knife towards his mouth. “I’ll be sure t
o yank them out slow, and then leave you here when I’m done. If the cold doesn’t get to you, an animal will.”

  That finally got to him. “Okay, okay,” the man recoiled away from the knife. “I’ll tell you what I know, as long as you promise to let me go.” His eyes flicked to Frost, and then to the ice block coating his arm and his sword.

  “You have our word,” Frost spoke, moving away from Hale’s comforting touch.

  “Who sent you?” Noel asked, cocking his head at the man, as if he wasn’t quite sure what he was staring at. All the while, his fingers fiddled with the knife, a keen reminder to the soldier that if he wasn’t careful, Noel could end him in less than one second.

  “Stentar,” the soldier said.

  Stentar. Frost recognized the name. Stentar was the ruler of Fenburn, an annoying thorn in Wysteria’s side. He was an older man whose ambition knew no bounds, apparently.

  “And why would Stentar send his soldiers into Wysteria?” The way Noel asked it, it was almost like he already suspected what the answer would be. Frost couldn’t help but wonder if it was the same reason these three were here. Everyone needed Frost’s help. But why?

  “For her,” the man said, glaring at Frost. It took every ounce of self-control in her to not grow the ice block on his arm and suffocate him with it.

  “Why would Stentar need her?” Noel asked, glaring down at the man.

  “He needs her to get to the Jewel.”

  The Jewel? Frost felt strange. The Jewel…why did it seem so familiar? Yet she was almost certain she’d never heard of it before.

  Douglas’s brows furrowed. “What would he need with the Jewel of Wysteria?”

  Blood trailed down the man’s face, oozing from his nose. The soldier sniffed, grimacing as he said, “Wysteria has been dormant for too long. Fenburn needs its resources. With the Jewel, everyone will recognize him as the rightful ruler.”