His Frost Maiden

by Michelle M. Pillow

  The thick oak door seemed out of place in the metal construct. Its carved patterns bespoke of craftsmanship and time. The soldier touched the metal latch, confidently opening the door like a servant. The music became much louder. He bowed slightly, not entering. “The general is expecting you, mistress.”

  Walking into the general’s quarters was like walking into her father’s hall. A barren fireplace graced one wall, surrounded by emblems and even a banner with the Craven crest. The music lowered as her eyes traveled over the decorated wall toward a red cushioned chair near the corner. Though part of her knew not to expect a youthful Jack, the old man surprised her. Despite the shortly cropped grey hair and the distinguished wrinkles lining his lips and eyes, she knew his gaze. Steel green stared at her, steadily searching her face as if she were a dream. He wore white, like the last time she saw him, only this time it wasn’t shiny but a dull cotton-like blend. The long tunic hung to his knees, slit along the sides to show loose matching pants. A thick brown stripe ran along the side of his legs and arms.

  “Josselyn,” he whispered, the sound faint, as if frightened he’d scare her away. His hand lifted, the fingers extended. “You’ve come. I almost gave up hope that you would. When the alarms on the prison complex were activated and then the old castle, I had to see for myself. The imager we put on the weather satellites turned on and we saw them carrying you from the grounds. The image was grainy and blurred, but I mean, it had to be you. Everyone else we’d moved, but you wouldn’t fit through the door and down the narrow stairwell. I was told you’d been crushed like everyone else, but then there you were, like you’d been waiting all these years to come back to life. I’d hoped, dreamt of you waking up to face me, but I never had the nerve to see your crushed stone face for myself and the Federation banned anyone from going back. That’s why they had the sensors—”

  “Jack.” Her tone wasn’t as soft or wistful as his. She turned, her feet shuffling as she faced him fully. They were alone in the room, but she didn’t trust him and his ready words, so easily given, gave her reason to pause. The speech sounded practiced, as if he’d thought of what he would say to her. She endeavored to see past the wrinkles along his eyes, the smooth skin of his cheeks that pulled too tightly and stretched his once youthful lips.

  “Ah, I rush too fast to tell you everything.” Jack nodded. He touched his cheek briefly. “How strange I must look to you with my age.”

  “You look like a traitor.” She took a step for him, scanning the immediate area for weaponry. Why hadn’t she grabbed a laser in the center dock? One of those bolt sealers would have done the trick.

  “History remembers me as a humanitarian.” His light laugh irritated her.

  “History is only a record of those who have no idea. We know the truth, don’t we, Jack? We know what you did.” A shiver worked over her spine and a lock of her own hair tickled the side of her neck. She stretched her cold fingers, each agonizingly stiff movement a painful reminder of her impending demise. The ache got worse, spreading up her wrists and forearms. Soon it would creep up her shoulders and neck. How soon until it reached her heart and lungs? Her body begged her to curl into a ball on the floor, to close her eyes to this nightmare and never wake up.

  Soon. Very soon.

  “I’ve changed since that day.” Jack stood. If she’d expected a feeble, shaking shell of what he once was, she would’ve been mistaken. “I am not that young, foolish man.”

  “I’ll tell you what you will never be.” She managed to arch a brow. “Lord Craven.”

  “Hm,” Jack gave a small smile, as if enjoying his own joke.

  “No matter how many things you put my family crest on.”

  He carried himself well and she couldn’t help but marvel at the medical advances that had made his life so long and healthy. In many ways, seeing him thus, having lived full and long was beyond unfair. “You don’t look well, Josselyn. Please, have a seat. It can’t be easy standing. I see how pale your hands are and I imagine your feet and legs are about the same.”

  “I want nothing from you, not even a chair.”

  “Then you aren’t the girl I remember. The Lady Josselyn I knew would want the reason why I did what I did. She’d want to know what the last century had brought, how her home became a block of ice.”

  Josselyn tried not to stare at him, but it was hard to look away from the steel green of his eyes. Glancing down, the ring on his finger caught her attention. Though not her father’s ring, the symbol was an exact replica. Rage boiled inside her. “You dare to wear my family’s crest? You dare to hang it on your wall like it was your own?”

  “Sit, Josselyn.” Jack motioned toward the chair he’d abandoned. “You appear to be in the last stages of the illness. I know you cannot be comfortable swaying about like you are.”

  Josselyn didn’t move, not surprised by his words. It figured he’d know what was wrong with her, was somehow responsible. She didn’t need his concern or his charity. She considered questioning him on her illness, but held back, not wanting him to know she was weak. “You took everything from me.”

  “The Federation’s course of action was unfortunate, but they did what they felt they must.” This time his words weren’t as rushed. “Rebellions had erupted on some of the other moons and they feared others would soon follow. The decision was made to strike first to minimize losses.” Jack strolled to the desk and poured himself a drink from a crystal decanter. Josselyn turned slowly, keeping her gaze on him. The Craven crest was etched into the side of the decanter. “I never meant for you to get hurt. By the time I discovered the massacre, it was too late to stop it. Your family was already gone.” Lifting the glass to his lips, he paused. “I’d offer you some, but it’ll only make your condition worse.” He gave a short, humorless laugh. “Not that you’d take anything I had to offer you. I suppose we both know why you’re really here.”

  “I saw you, Jack. You were a part of the massacre and we only fought to defend our homes from the tyrannical oppression of the Federation.” Josselyn moved toward the desk. She hated to be closer to him, but she needed to support her weight with something and the desk was the most logical place to search for weapons. Now that she was here, she realized how poorly she’d thought about her revenge. Maybe the numbness in her limbs had spread to her mind.

  “I didn’t want to be, but once it was started, once your father knew I’d helped the Federation, I couldn’t change sides. He would not have forgiven me. He never treated me like a son. A son he could have forgiven for foolish youth, but me? I was no more than a Craven responsibility. There was no real choice. I had to choose and I chose preservation. I hoped your father and brothers would see the light, that they would see in the favor of progression, of advancing the moon alliances.” Jack sipped his liquor, a slow movement, as if he’d waited years to say these words and was taking his time to make sure they were exactly as he’d practiced. “The planet of Florencia understood that. The old treaties gave them the right to decide.”

  “We govern ourselves. That is true freedom. The old treaties were ancient, when our ancestors first came to the planet. It was only by some scholarly inquiry that the old law was even found.” Josselyn gripped the desk, barely feeling more than pressure beneath her palms. Why was she debating moon law and treaties? None of those really mattered anymore. “Ago pugna quod intereo per veneration’.”

  “Honor? War was coming, but you all didn’t want to see it. The Federation was too big and swords and stones were no match for the weapons of modern age. Better the Federation than one of the alien species they wanted to protect us from. You always thought so small. Do you think the leaders on the planet of Florencia were our biggest threat?”

  “We were handling ourselves and there was no alien threat. Those were propagandist lies to make us concede.”

  “We were part of a dying age, as historic as the time you tried to recreate. The past cannot be redone, no matter how hard you try to remake it. What happened would hap
pen. The only change we could have effected was which side we came out on—victors or the conquered. I chose to be a victor and so I lived.”

  A sharp pain seized her legs and she let out a small cry as her knees tried to buckle beneath her. Hard knots contorted her calf muscles, making it near impossible to stand without the help of her hands.

  “I’m sorry it hurts so badly. Would you like something to ease the pain?”

  She glared at him. Her fists balling. She knew it was useless, and still she swung her arm. To her surprise, she caught him off guard, slugging him across the jaw. Jack’s head snapped back. She swung again, but this time he was ready, catching her fist in his. With one deft maneuver, he had her back pinned to his chest.

  “You are in no condition to fight,” he said.

  “I will die fighting,” she answered.

  Jack let her go. Josselyn fell against the desk, breathing hard.

  “We didn’t know the complications that would arise from the reversal process when we imprisoned you. Honestly, we thought we were doing the humane thing. By imprisoning you, we could later bring you back to reason with, one by one. Not everyone had to die.” Jack dared to touch her cheek. “It was never my intention for you to be held captive so long, but a full war broke out on the other moons. The rebels were eventually squashed, though the weather systems were hit before the end. A scientist said their blast points would make for easy repairs to put the moons to rights. All it did was make the weather unpredictable as the satellites limped on for years. Incidentally, the man wrong about that little laser blast was also the one who invented the ‘safe and reversible’ prison holding process you’re now dying of. His addiction went undetected a little too long. It seemed the only invention he got right was a synthetic pleasure drug undetectable by Federation and MAPH protocols.”

  “How sweet it must be for you to see me tortured thus,” she whispered.

  “I loved you, Josselyn,” Jack said. “It seems silly to me now, me an old man and you...” He reached as if to touch her cheek, his hand hovering when she flinched. “You are almost exactly as I remembered you. How many times I’ve imagined this conversation.”

  “I—”

  “No, don’t speak.” Jack withdrew his wrinkled hand, letting it fall to the desk to mimic her grip on the thick oak. Red marred his jaw. “I know all the questions you must have. I’ve thought of them and more. I always hoped one day you’d come. I hoped fate would make it so.”

  Josselyn didn’t move. It was easier not too. Jack knew fate had a hand in this moment. Is that why he wasn’t surprised by her arrival?

  “The Federation made their prison camps on the dead moons they had created, only to abandon them when a new star system showed itself and a new war emerged. All their grand plans died with the last of our weather nearly eighty years ago. None of the things we hoped to accomplish, all the protection they were to have given us, was gone. I fought for years to get permission to free the prisoners, to free you, to get funding on a cure for the ice sickness. Unfortunately, those who released you didn’t know. No one knows of the misfortunes that befell the prisoners or our world. Those who freed you doomed you.”

  A glint of metal caught Josselyn’s gaze. Long and thin, she wasn’t sure what it was, but the blade seemed sharp and her family’s crest was engraved on the silver handle. Anger boiled, giving her a sudden surge of strength. How dare he say things like “our world”? How dare he speak of her family and use her crest? She was the last Craven. This was her crest. Not his. The tragedy he spoke of with such a regretful voice was her tragedy. Not his.

  “Are you sure I can’t get you something for the pain?” Jack said softly. “I think you should take something.”

  Josselyn made a weak noise, a cross between a cry of outrage and a sob of heartbreak. Her nose burned with all the tears she had yet to shed and never would. Moisture froze in her eyes, almost as cold as her flesh. Without thought, she gripped the slender hilt and swung. There was a moment of victory as the blade met flesh and it was much harder than she thought it would be to push it in. But her hand was already moving and she couldn’t stop it.

  A sound of surprise echoed and she looked at Jack’s face. His lips were set in a grim line, as if he had expected and anticipated her blow. The sound had come from her own lips. She had done it. She stabbed Jack.

  Revenge.

  Death.

  “Jack?” Warmth covered the cold of her fingers and she looked down to see blood trailing from the wound. The blade protruded from his chest, just below where his heart would beat. This moment didn’t feel like she thought it should.

  “Ah,” Jack said at last, a halted sound as he let go of the breath he held. He gave her a slight smile. “I knew you would be the end of me. I knew.” Blood trickled over the side of his mouth, running crimson down his chin. “It is fitting that we finish this together.”

  She felt a sting in her arm. Jack held a needle against her, injecting light green liquid into her arm. Josselyn jerked away, but it was too late. The action caused her knees to buckle and she fell against the desk, sliding helplessly to the floor. The needle stuck out of her arm. Jack’s glass of liquor fell over, rolling over her head and barely missing her shoulder as it tumbled to the ground.

  Jack wobbled on his feet as he walked toward his chair, collapsing into it. The blade still stuck from his ribs and he made no move to take it out. “Just as things should happen.”

  Fire burned up her arm and she wanted to scream, but she didn’t have enough energy left.

  “By the time we found a cure and I had the permission necessary to give the command to have your statue transported to the laboratory, the bases were being abandoned because of the snow storms plus I learned that the warden had been ordered to destroy the statues. Apparently, watching over the Federation’s mistake became too much of a hassle, especially with the storms. By that time no one knew whom they guarded. They believed the prisoners to be virus carriers whose death was an act of mercy. Then they were forgotten by everyone, erased by other events and people like they were never there.”

  Josselyn glanced at her burning arm, to the old-fashioned syringe sticking from it. The limb wouldn’t move, no matter how hard she tried to make it work—not even a finger tremor. She flicked her other hand up at the vial, pushing it from her arm. But it was too late. Whatever he’d given her, it was inside her body.

  Jack coughed. “Don’t you worry about that. It’ll take all your pain away.”

  “Only way you could be assured I’d stay and listen to you?” Josselyn’s raw throat stung, the glands under her jaw swollen and tender.

  “It’s strange, but there is so much I should tell you and I find now, looking at you, I don’t want to admit to it. But I need you to hear the full story.”

  “Could you hurry up and die first?” She took a deep breath. “That is what we’re doing here, isn’t it?”

  “Only three days after all the prisoners were crushed and abandoned a cure for what ails you was discovered by scientists, but it was too late, they had killed them all. So out of all the planets, two were freed. Two who were lucky enough to be left in the laboratory far away from the moons. A simple, every day, un-political man and a woman who would later become my wife.”

  “Wife?” Josselyn gave a weak, derisive laugh. “Of course you married. Who was she? Some meek mannered simpleton who didn’t know what you’d done?”

  “Yes,” he answered to her surprise. “Though simpleton is a little harsh. Your mother might not have been intelligent when it came to politics and social issues, but she was a kind-hearted woman.”

  “You think—” Josselyn stiffened. “My mother? She’s alive?”

  “Sadly, no. I lost my wife years ago.”

  “Your wife?” Josselyn couldn’t breathe. She gasped for air. The pain seizing hold of her heart had nothing to do with her illness. No. He lied. Her mother would never... No. Not with Jack. No. A tear streamed down her cheek.

  “By
the time she was released, I was older than her in years. I understood her and could protect her. She was not made for a world beyond the Florencian moons. As far as I knew, she was the last of the Cravens and I made it my life to take care of her.”

  “And you would do anything to claim my father’s title, wouldn’t you?”

  “I wanted to marry you, Josselyn. That would not have given me your father’s title. I wanted to be a part of your family. Is that so wrong?” He grunted, his sudden, irritated movement causing a shudder of obvious pain to roll over him.

  “I never loved you, Jack.”

  “I know. I do. But you never tried to either. If it helps you to forgive her, your mother was never the same after discovering the loss of her family. Of course I spared her the details, tried to make her happy, to give her a semblance of her life back, but I think the pain of losing all of you finally killed her.”

  “I have no problem forgiving my mother. She was too pure to understand you and your ways. Deception was not in her nature and she did not look for it in others. But you, Jack. You, I will never forgive. I already know without you telling me that she didn’t know your part in it. In fact, she probably was convinced that you were the hero she always said you could be.” Unsure how, she leaned forward, crawling across the floor, pulling her weight forward with one arm as the other dragged along the rug. Her eyes locked on Jack’s steeled ones. His pale features set in a stoic expression.

  “I’ve only one last thing to tell you.”

  “Speed you to a quick end?”

  “No.” Jack shook his head. His hand wrapped around the hilt of the blade and she wondered if he would try to defend himself. “That, as your replacement father, I have your inheritance safely locked away.” His fingers lifted from the blade, reaching higher into his tunic. He pulled out a small disc and motioned toward her. It slipped from his fingers and landed on his lap. “For you and—”

  “Josselyn!”

  She turned her attention toward the door in shock. “Evan?”

  “There is your ride. Earlier than I would have liked.” Jack grunted, as he again grabbed the hilt poking from his chest. “My death will not be a sin you live with.”