Winter Spell

by Claire M Banschbach

  “Then walk faster so we can bring the summer back.” He tugged at her arm.

  “I would, but a certain amount of decorum is needed in public, wouldn’t you agree?” She raised her chin a little, smiling at the townsfolk who had come out to watch and wait for the council results.

  “You ate too many scones, didn’t you?” he replied, giving a friendly wave to a young boy and girl who flourished their best salutes with wooden stick swords.

  “And once again, your opinion isn’t needed.”

  He gave a small smirk and kept walking.

  The council chamber building was a two-storied structure with a foundation of smoothed white river rocks from the Nida River, and finished with darkened oak from Celedon forest. Frosted windows were spaced in even intervals between thicker beams worn smooth by age.

  Soldiers stood by the doors and outside each window, most of them wearing the silver and red livery of the royal family. The others wore the colors of the visiting lords.

  Edmund led the way inside where human men and women clustered in groups on one side of the wide chamber, their varied clothes marking them from Durne, Calvyrn, and Myrnius. Diane ignored them and the mistrustful glances they sent each other, looking instead at the odd company waiting a few paces away from the other faeries.

  Blonde hair with reddish tints glinted bright in the sunlight streaming through the windows. All of them wore pale grey leggings and shoes, the rest of their clothing obscured by thick coats trimmed in strange silky fur.

  Is that water on their skin? Diane tried not to stare too intently at the extra shimmer around them.

  The only female of the group stood with arms crossed over her stomach. Her hair was startlingly dark beside the paleness of her companions. The wet sheen seemed to be missing from her skin, also a shade darker than her companions. She glanced around nervously as if waiting for an inevitable attack. All but one of her companions notably ignored her, and Diane sensed an almost scorn in their glances to her.

  “Poor thing.” Adela came to stand by Diane, openly watching the female faery.

  “Is she the one they said caused the ice?” Diane asked.

  The faery looked too scared to have done anything big like freezing the ocean and at least three countries. She also didn’t seem too much older than Diane herself.

  “There is a different sheen of magic to her,” Damian said meditatively.

  Adela hummed thoughtfully. She took Diane’s arm and headed toward the faeries.

  Damian took the lead once they reached the ocean faeries. “Thank you for meeting with our messengers,” he addressed the male faery who stood a half step ahead of the others and moved protectively towards the girl.

  “We need a solution just as much as you do,” the man replied. “I am Captain Kostis of the Reef Guard.”

  “Damian of Celedon Forest, and my wife, Adela.” Adela dropped a curtsey. “This is Princess Diane of Myrnius. Her brother is the one who organized this council.”

  Captain Kostis offered a bow to Diane and she returned with a curtsey. As she straightened, she caught the female faery glancing at her with open interest.

  “And this is?” Adela turned her smile to the girl.

  “Tonya Freyr-dottir,” Kostis said as if that would explain everything.

  Tonya seemed to compress a little more. Adela offered her a hand, which Tonya hesitantly took.

  “We’d like to see your magic, if that’s all right?” Adela asked.

  Tonya flashed a wide-eyed look at the faery before turning to Captain Kostis in something akin to panic.

  Diane swallowed hard. It was fine to stand beside the faeries, but actually seeing magic still made her uneasy. The Durnean faeries came to join them and unease prickled along her arms.

  “Maybe outside? Perhaps where not many of the townsfolk can see? I just don’t want any trouble.” She nearly tripped over her words, wincing as she realized how it might sound to a faery.

  But Adela touched her arm and offered a slight smile. “I think that’s a good idea.”

  Diane stepped back with a barely concealed sigh of relief. “Then I’ll leave you to it.”

  Chapter Nine

  “Should we go outside?” Adela gave Tonya a bright smile.

  Tonya found herself reluctantly returning it as they escaped back into the frigid outdoors followed by two Durnean faeries, Kostis, and another ocean faery.

  She took a deep breath, a sense of freedom rippling over her. The enclosed hall had felt stifling after the days spent trekking across the open countryside.

  They walked in a silent procession to the outskirts of the town, the faeries from Myrnius and Durne keeping to their own groups, Tonya alone in the center. When they stopped, she pressed her arms over her stomach and stared down at the ice as Kostis and the other ocean faery explained everything they had already tried.

  A light touch on her arm brought her chin jerking up. Adela stood close, a friendly smile on her face.

  “I suppose we can start with the basics. You can do a little magic, correct?”

  Something loosened a little around Tonya’s heart at the openness in Adela’s eyes.

  “Very little.”

  She didn’t know why she rushed to qualify it. Maybe because Adela looked like she might actually believe Tonya could do something.

  “Have you tried with the ice?”

  Tonya darted a glance at the ocean faery who wore his usual frown. Kostis, however, gave her a small nod.

  “I’ve tried. When—when we first came onto the land, I was able to make some snow move, but I haven’t been able to since.”

  “How do you control your magic?” Damian approached her.

  Tonya furrowed her brow. Control it?

  He raised an eyebrow. “Do you do things differently in the ocean?” He glanced to Kostis.

  The captain shook his head. “No, we all have our ways of summoning magic, but she hasn’t shown any proficiency for it.”

  Tonya winced and glanced away, finding the gaze of the younger Durnean faery turned on her.

  He studied her, his head tilted slightly to the side. She pulled her gaze away, half-afraid to wonder what he saw.

  Or is he just trying to see how useless I am?

  “How do you use the little magic you have?” Damian asked.

  Tonya hesitated, unsure how to explain it. She didn’t use words like the others, or gesture with her hands as some did. I just do. Sometimes she had to move, pushing and pulling with her whole body to escape the knots smothering her, to squeeze even a drop of magic out. Other times, it rippled from her fingers as easy as whispering to the tides.

  Faint heat tinged her cheeks as she tried to articulate it. But Damian and Adela didn’t laugh. The second Durnean faery just raised an eyebrow. Tonya felt the other’s eyes still watching her.

  “You need something, boy?” Kostis growled, protectiveness rumbling in his voice. Tonya started as she realized he’d spoken to the young Durnean faery.

  The faery glanced at Kostis, appearing unfazed by his gruffness. He stepped over to them and the knots re-coiled in her stomach.

  Here it comes.

  But he just held out a hand. “I’m Dorian.”

  No smile, no nod to accompany it. Just stating his name like a fact.

  Kostis crossed his arms and glared. Tonya flushed, painfully aware she’d kept him waiting longer than appropriate.

  “Tonya.” She reached a tentative hand out to him, barely brushing his palm.

  “Can I?” he asked.

  She froze again, but didn’t withdraw her hand. He didn’t seem to be much older than her. What could he do that the older faeries among her people couldn’t?

  He looked down at her hand, his lips barely moving. Adela and Damian watched him in interest, but made no move to interfere. Warmth rushed over Tonya’s arms, seeking, prodding. But it felt friendly, not like the frantic barbs of magic that the ocean faeries had sent out, trying to provoke her supposed ice magic.


  Dorian didn’t look up as he held out his other hand. Tonya bit her lip, bemused, but placed her hand in his.

  “No wonder you can’t do any magic. You’ve got some powerful warding spells placed on you.”

  “What?” Kostis spluttered.

  Tonya’s mouth dropped open and she stared. Dorian glanced up at her from under the tips of his curly brown hair.

  “They’re clever. Well hidden. You can feel them, can’t you? It’s blocking you.”

  She nodded dumbly. Warding spells? What does that mean?

  “How can you tell? Our people didn’t find them!” Kostis frowned, concern in his voice.

  “Did they even look?”

  Tonya shook her head imperceptibly. They’d just tried to draw out her ice magic to get her to undo the spell.

  “Should we just take your word for it?” Kostis still didn’t sound convinced.

  “Dorian is one of our best healers.” The Durnean faery tilted his chin up proudly.

  “He’s young,” the other ocean faery spat.

  Dorian didn’t drop Tonya’s hands, but she felt him tense. His jaw clenched and the lines around his eyes deepened.

  “When you spend a war trying to drive away the worst spells you can imagine from both faeries and humans alike, you learn to recognize different kinds of magic.”

  His voice didn’t rise or fall, staying even as he spoke the words, as if reciting facts.

  Dorian gently released her hands. “There’s cold and sharp like an ice storm. Your father’s magic, if I had to guess. And there’s warm and gentle, like a summer breeze. Your mother.”

  His voice quieted a little over the words, meeting Tonya’s eyes for the first time.

  For some reason, tears budded at the back of Tonya’s eyes. There are parts of them with me, in me.

  Dorian looked at the other faeries. “I think the warding protected her whenever she was attacked.”

  “Protected? Isn’t this a little overkill, then?” Tonya flicked a finger down at the ice.

  A laugh bubbled from Adela. For the first time the hint of a smile cracked Dorian’s face, crinkling a little around his light green eyes.

  “If you’re under warding spells, then your magic has been suppressed your whole life.” Damian rubbed at his chin. “A serious attack could have triggered the spells to let your magic out to protect you. Resulting in this.” He swept his arm out.

  Tonya tucked her arms to her chest again. So I still caused it. But what does it mean that my parents placed warding spells on me? She met Kostis’s concerned gaze. Maybe they knew that whatever chased them would one day come for me.

  “And you don’t know what attacked her?” Adela tucked her hands up into her coat.

  Kostis shook his head. “Something more powerful than we thought, perhaps.” His lips twisted in worry.

  “Do you know how to undo the warding?” Damian glanced at Dorian.

  The younger faery shook his head. “It’s different than anything I know. But they feel like they were made to stay until whoever made them undid it.”

  “Meaning that my parents would have to undo them?” Tonya asked, her voice quiet. I’m stuck like this. The ice will never thaw, and I’ll have doomed the continent.

  The bit of bitterness toward her parents that sometimes surfaced on the loneliest of days reached up to claw at her heart. It wasn’t enough that they abandoned me? They had to leave me trapped and useless, too?

  “Or maybe someone with stronger ice magic could undo her father’s warding.”

  A bit of hope bubbled inside her at Dorian’s words.

  “And if they can’t, they might have a solution for this spell,” Damian said.

  Tonya lifted her chin a little higher. The faeries exchanged a glance, then nodded.

  “We send someone north.”

  Tonya followed Damian’s gaze over the gently-rolling hills. She had no idea what lay beyond, but somewhere—leagues away—was her father’s homeland. The place where her mother had found something worth leaving the ocean—and her. And the place where something had hunted them down and forced them to leave her to the tides, all tangled in her own magic.

  “Dorian.” She mustered up her courage as the party trudged back through the snow to the council house.

  He half-turned.

  “Thank you.”

  He tipped a nod before lengthening his strides to beat the rest of them to the house.

  Tonya rubbed her fingers together. Maybe not useless, but still just as powerless.

  Chapter Ten

  It didn’t take the faeries long to come to a decision.

  Diane quickly took her seat as the council convened. Edmund leaned on the table beside her, every line of his body tense in anticipation of the report.

  She clenched her hands together under her fur wrap, praying to the Creator that it would be good news. That they’d find a way to get rid of the ice, so they could get back to their lives.

  Movement shifted beside her. She glanced up at Ralf who met her look and gave a half-smile, despite the worry in his own eyes. Whatever came, she felt a little stronger with him there beside her.

  Adela, Damian, and the other faeries clustered in the open square between the tables. Tonya stood a little off to the side, her hands twisting together.

  Compassion rushed through Diane. The ocean faery didn’t look like she had a malicious bone in her body.

  She was only a young girl lost in herself, swallowed whole by a power that she didn’t understand and didn’t know she could wield. A little like me.

  A light brush on her arm jerked her attention back. Ralf’s stern features had softened again, this time into a real smile. He’d caught her staring at Tonya.

  “Was I wearing my look again?” she murmured softly.

  He nodded, eyes sparkling a deeper brown. Her heart skipped, an odd feeling that tended to happen when she caught a glimpse of the real man under his hardened exterior.

  Whenever she felt like he saw the real her.

  Just a friend. Diane shook herself. A friend who had been a constant at her side for the last two years. She tore her gaze away as Edmund coughed slightly, a slight frown leveled at her and then to Ralf. She tilted her nose up, focusing her attention on the faeries.

  Damian spoke first, while Diane compulsively took notes, explaining the warding that had been placed around Tonya and what had likely triggered the ice.

  “She needs to go north to the ice fairies. They might be able to undo the warding, or at least undo the ice magic.” Damian stepped back.

  A murmur rose from around the tables.

  “As we discussed, then,” Lord Darek sighed.

  “My son, August, will go on behalf of the Myrnian faeries.” Damian nodded to the young faery.

  “Dorian will represent Durne,” the elder Durnean faery spoke up. The youngest of their group gave a short nod, swapping glares with August.

  Adela pursed her lips in mild irritation.

  “And what of the humans?” One of the Myrnian lords who had pushed hardest for his own man to accompany the mission leaned forward.

  Edmund paused a long moment. “Princess Diane will go.”

  She slashed a wide mark across the parchment, staring at Edmund with wide eyes.

  “I’ll do what now?”

  Adventure had always appealed to her—from the safety of her armchair—but this wasn’t what she had in mind. I can’t just leave!

  Edmund pretended he hadn’t heard her.

  “My sister is one of my most trusted councilors. She’s personally overseen many of the reports gathered on the state of our kingdoms and has a comprehensive understanding of just how badly we need a solution. I trust her to see to the good of all our countries, no matter our differences in the past.”

  Heat flared along Diane’s skin at the look of pride he turned on her. She ducked her head as the full attention of the council fell on her—some cautiously agreeing with the choice, others frowning.

&
nbsp; Diane nudged her papers aside, lifting her chin, and returned the looks. Edmund had confidence in her, and that had always been enough. Behind the faeries, she caught the relief on Tonya’s face and smiled at her.

  “And who will you send?” Edmund nodded at the ocean faeries, speaking quickly to avoid the possibility of counter-arguments.

  “Against my better judgement, Tonya will go alone from our people,” Captain Kostis said. “I have been assured of the skill of August and Dorian. A smaller party will be faster and possibly less of a threat than sending a full guard.” The words clearly pained him to speak.

  Tonya didn’t necessarily look any happier than him at the decision.

  “Good. I will be more than happy to give you the supplies needed. Can we count on you, my lords, to ensure any aid they might need along their journey?”

  One by one, the council nodded. No one looked truly happy as the council adjourned.

  At least I don’t have to sit through more hours of arguing.

  As Diane pushed her chair away from the table and stood, she came face to face with Ralf’s frown. His eyes had lost the humor of a few minutes ago, replaced by a storm of anger and worry. A sudden need to get away from the council, even from Edmund, filled her. She grabbed Ralf’s arm and pulled him along as she headed for the nearest door.

  It led into a scribe’s room. Wide windows let in the sunlight, playing across the wooden desk and chairs in dust-filled rays. Diane went to the window, taking a short breath before turning. Ralf waited by the door he’d left open for propriety’s sake. He stood tense, the cautious warrior back.

  She waited.

  “It’s too dangerous, Diane!” he finally burst out. “You can’t go.”

  “I’m inclined to agree.” She crossed her arms. “I’ll have you remember that my dearest brother volunteered me for this without even asking.”

  “I’ll talk to him.” He pivoted.

  “Ralf!”

  He halted. Diane sighed, her shoulders slumping. “I don’t really want to go. There’s too much to do here.” I don’t want to leave you. She swallowed the thought. “But I think Edmund’s right, and I have to go.”