A White So Red

by Krystle Jones

With understanding in his eyes, he settled back down beside her, lying on his back. He patted his chest and she snuggled up next to him, resting her head there. It felt strange being this close to someone, but it also felt nice and comforting, like the world couldn’t hurt her. She felt safe, and it scared her because she knew nowhere was truly safe until the Queen was dead.

  Caspar began humming the lilting tune from the crystal cavern, the one that sounded so hauntingly familiar.

  She didn’t care that Malachite’s men were watching, or that they were outside the cottage. They could be attacked just as easily inside as out. It no longer mattered. Nothing did, except the sound of his voice and the warm sense of peace spreading through her.

  Her thoughts quieted and she closed her eyes, falling asleep to the sound of his beating heart.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Wicked Blood

  Tristan showed up at dawn, and he and Natalia set about training for the majority of the next three days. She didn’t care that she was bone-tired. Facing the Queen in person had lit a fire within her, fueling her determination to get a grip on her magic as quickly as she could.

  They took breaks, talking with one another and enjoying each other’s company. The longer he was around her, the more he relaxed. She began to look on him as a little brother, though she knew he wanted to be something else entirely.

  Malachite sent scrolls of battle plans to them for review. Caspar seemed content with what the priest had come up with, writing his ideas down and sending the scrolls back with Tristan each night, but what Natalia read made her nervous. “Don’t you feel as if we’re rushing into this?” she asked him on the second night.

  “You don’t always have copious amounts of time to prepare, my Lady,” he murmured, meticulously combing through Malachite’s plans. “That’s just the nature of war. Sometimes you have to strike while the opportunity presents itself.”

  She rubbed her arms, shivering and hoping he was right.

  To abate her nerves, she sought every possible moment to strengthen her tenuous grasp on her magic. Tristan was a great help. Having someone to bounce ideas and theories off of was invaluable, not to mention he understood exactly what she was going through. The boy left every day at dusk, accompanied by an entourage of guards. On the third day, after wishing him well, she asked Caspar to practice sword fighting with her.

  “You look exhausted,” he commented, giving her a worried once-over. “I haven’t seen you sleep in three days. You should eat something and rest.”

  “I need to train,” she insisted. “The Queen won’t rest until I’m dead, so I shouldn’t rest until I’m sure I’m capable of killing her. I feel better about using my magic now.” And it was true. She did feel like she had grown stronger over the course of the last few days. “But I still need to learn to balance magical attacks with physical ones.”

  He stroked his chin, his eyes falling on her necklace. “Too bad you don’t have, I don’t know, a whole necklace of blood crystals.”

  Her eyes widened. “Caspar, that’s brilliant!”

  Without waiting to explain, she ducked inside the cottage and raced downstairs to the cellar. The bag was right where she left it. Digging out a handful of crystals, she went upstairs and met back up with Caspar.

  He whistled when he spotted the crystals in her hand. “That’s a lot of power to control, my Lady. Are you sure you can handle it?”

  She stuffed the crystals down her corset. “I’m willing to try anything if it will help me defeat the Queen.” She drew her sword. “Shall we, my Lord?”

  Grinning, he unsheathed his rapier and took up a defensive position in front of her.

  No torches were lit outside, but that was fine. She needed to practice fighting in the dark. The crystals pressed against her stomach, making her skin tingle through the shirt. Never had she felt so alive.

  Malachite’s men were outside, watching the forest with alert gazes, crossbows notched and ready.

  “This brings back memories,” Caspar said, smiling, “though you could have asked one of Malachite’s men to train with you.”

  “True,” she said, “but we both know you’re the best sword fighter here.”

  Caspar thought this over and then nodded. “Why argue when you’re right?”

  She suppressed a smile. When she first met him, she would have thought that to be an incredibly arrogant comment, but now she saw it as a self-defense mechanism, a way for him to hide his darker emotions – and thus, his darker self – from the world.

  “Well then,” Caspar said, “let’s see if you can manage to ruin another shirt of mine.”

  She almost didn’t give him enough time to finish the sentence before she came at him, stabbing straight for his chest with the tip of the sword. He deftly blocked her move, knocking it to the side and swinging around with a blow of his own. Without thinking about it, she held up a hand, palm out, and blocked his rapier with a small shield of red light that flared to life upon impact. The blade never touched her hand.

  “Nice move!” Caspar said, adjusting the angle of his blade to parry her gouge. “You’re getting better.”

  “You’re saying I was bad before?”

  “That’s not – what I meant,” he said between blocks. He deflected her hits several times before following up with a lightning-quick strike to her ribs, which she stopped with a magic shield. Energy burned through her fingers as the shield flared to life and died away when the rapier swung back into the air. Magic seared through her, burning hotter and brighter. The soul of the earth seeped up into her veins, making her feel connected to it in a way she never felt before. Emotions she had kept buried – anger mixed with sorrow, fear, and doubt – stirred to life, boiling over until they reached the surface. The strongest of them was her anger. It narrowed her eyes and gritted her teeth into a sneer, evolving into rage. Hot red light glittered over her skin, projecting like flames licking the air. Her attacks became fiercer, wilder. She drove Caspar back with the force of an army, no longer seeing him anymore. Instead, the face of a beautiful woman with violet eyes smiled at her demurely, as if asking, “Is that all you have?”

  Vaguely, Natalia registered someone shouting her name but it was muted, as if she were underwater.

  Behind the Queen, she saw a barren wasteland of black crosses, and on those crosses were the crucified bodies of Rose, Midnight, and Via. They moaned in agony, their heads hanging low as fire engulfed them.

  “No!” Natalia screamed, raising her free hand. A red energy whip formed instantly in her open palm. Clasping it, she lashed out at the Queen’s foot. The whip looped around her ankle and Natalia jerked back, throwing the Queen off balance. A look of surprise came over the Queen’s face as she fell backward, landing hard on her back. Natalia heard the air escape the Queen’s lungs in one solid whoosh; her eyes were wide with shock as she gasped for air. The whip vanished and wisps of red light merged together in Natalia’s hand, forming a sword. Digging the tips into the ground on either side of the Queen’s throat, Natalia crossed the swords above her, forming an “X”.

  The Queen stared up into her eyes, her pupils refocusing. “Natalia,” she rasped with a slight shake of her head, “what are you doing?”

  “Killing you.” The words felt good and she shivered, cracking her neck as she prepared to slice off the Queen’s head.

  “This isn’t you,” the Queen said.

  Natalia tilted her head back and laughed. “What’s wrong, my Queen? You sound frightened.”

  “Something’s got hold of you,” the Queen said.

  “Oh, yes,” Natalia purred, leaning forward so her face was only an inch or two above the Queen’s. “Something’s got hold of me, all right. It’s called vengeance.”

  The Queen’s brows furrowed. “You don’t see me, do you, Natalia?”

  “Actually, I see more clearly than I ever have.”

  Things snarled at her from the side, and her eyes snapped around to find several shadowy demons with glowin
g violet eyes racing toward her, fangs bared and dripping blood. Throwing out a palm, she sent a beam of red energy crashing into them, and they shrieked, writhing on the ground in pain.

  “Now,” Natalia said, turning back to the Queen with a wicked smile. “Where were we?”

  Her arms shuddered as she freed the swords from the ground and raised them over her head.

  “Good riddance.”

  The blades fell.

  Natalia could see herself reflected in the Queen’s eyes. In slow motion, the Queen opened her mouth and screamed, “Snow!”

  Natalia faltered, blinking hard and feeling as if she had slammed into a wall. Her fake name had been yelled by two sets of vocal cords, one female, the other distinctly male.

  I know that voice, she thought, desperately trying to place it.

  Dizziness overtook her and she swayed, losing control of the energy sword. It dissolved into glittering red dust, and she fell onto her side, gasping. The world was spinning, a dizzying vortex made up of fire and her friends’ wails. She squeezed her eyes shut, but it was there, in her mind. There was no escaping it.

  “Stop,” she croaked, but the world spun faster, the sounds grew louder, and she dropped the metal sword, covering her ears. “Stop it! Stop it!”

  “Snow!”

  A man called her name, and a moment later, she felt someone grab her wrists and try to pry away her fists from her ears.

  She violently shook her head, attempting to shake him off, but he held firm. “Leave me be!”

  “No!” he yelled, gripping her shoulders. “Tell me what’s wrong!”

  “It burns,” she said through clenched teeth. “My blood – feels like – fire.”

  “Where?”

  “Everywhere.”

  Hands patted her, twice going over a lumpy spot on her corset. She jolted as the corset was ripped open and the crystals tumbled to the ground. Almost at once, the zap of energy vanished, leaving her feeling drained, empty, and clammy with sickness. Two strong arms caught her as she slumped forward, cradling her neck over one forearm as he lowered her to the ground. Warm, soft fingers smoothed away the hair plastered to her sweaty face.

  “Snow,” a man said, sounding worried, “open your eyes. Look at me.”

  Her lids felt like they were made of lead. She barely managed to open them, catching vibrant green eyes.

  “Caspar,” she said. Her voice sounded tiny; it cracked on the second syllable.

  “Shush,” he said. “It’s all right. You’re all right.”

  “What happened?”

  The fire-ravished landscape was like a distant memory, replaced by the stark, cold severity of the Silver Forest. Several shadows loomed on either side of her, groaning as they struggled to help one another stand. As her eyes adjusted to the sudden darkness, she realized the shadows were Malachite’s men. Most had bruises and cuts along their faces and forearms. One man’s arm was completely broken; it was twisted at an odd angle at the elbow. He winced as two of his comrades helped him stand, leading him toward the cottage.

  “What happened?” Natalia asked again.

  Caspar glanced at the men, hesitation in his eyes. “They were attacked.”

  She immediately sat up, looking around despite the throbbing in her head. “By what? Is it still here?”

  Caspar tensed, staring at her like he didn’t want to tell her something.

  “What, Caspar?” she asked. “What is it?”

  He swallowed. “Yes, the creature is still here.”

  “Where?”

  Slowly, he lifted a hand, pointing at her.

  She blinked, not fully realizing at first what he was implying, then she pointed to herself. “Me? I did that?”

  He nodded, with pity and a little bit of fear in his eyes.

  “But how?” She watched the men limp away, some casting loathing glances over their shoulders at her. “I couldn’t have – that is –”

  “You lost control of yourself,” Caspar said quietly, standing. He winced as a nerve in his neck caught, and he reached up to rub it out.

  “But how?” she demanded again, desperation and fear in her voice.

  He nudged one of the blood crystals with the toe of his boot. “I’m not entirely sure. When I freed you of those crystals, though, you snapped back to normal.”

  She started to reach for one, but he quickly bent and grabbed her hand, stopping her. “Don’t touch them!” he said fiercely, glancing at her neck. “Maybe you should take the necklace off, too.”

  “No!” She reached up, covering her mother’s pendant with her hand as if to shield it from his gaze. “No, it won’t hurt me.”

  “Are you sure?” he asked doubtfully.

  “I’ve never had this much trouble before with using blood crystals,” she said, shaking her head. “I don’t understand what went wrong.”

  “Perhaps you were using one blood crystal too many,” he said. “This is the first time you’ve used multiple ones, yes?”

  She nodded, a lump forming in her throat. A hollow feeling swelled within her, telling her he was right, but that was not what sent shivers crawling over her skin. It was the part where he said, “You lost control of yourself.”

  Her fingers loosened around the crystal as she rethought her decision to protect it. What if the crystals turned her into a monster as deadly as the Black Witch?

  “I don’t want to be like the Queen,” Natalia said, trembling slightly.

  “And you’re not,” Caspar said, kneeling. “You’re not anything like that woman.”

  “Caspar… did I… did I almost…” She took a deep breath, forcing herself to finish the sentence. “Did I almost kill you?”

  Caspar rose and stared back at her, trying to steel his gaze, but she could sense the fear behind his eyes. “It’s not your fault.”

  She growled, standing. “It damn well would have been had I severed your head!”

  Caspar grew silent. His lips were pressed into a grim line. “Malachite’s men heard us shouting and tried to stop you. I tried to stop you too, but you were so strong, untouchable, even.”

  She stared at her hands, as if expecting fire to burst out of them at any moment. Whom could she trust when she couldn’t even trust herself? How was she supposed to keep her faith strong then?

  “Caspar, I’m so sorry,” she whispered. She thought of the scornful looks the men had given her, how they had kept a wide berth, as well they should. When they met up with Malachite in the morning, he would surely hear of this, and then how would he convince his men to fight for her?

  Maybe I’m no better than the Queen.

  Caspar placed a hand on her shoulder and she jumped. “You’re over-thinking it – and blaming yourself,” he said, “It won’t do you any good. You didn’t know about the effects of the crystals.”

  She stood there, not looking at him.

  Caspar cupped her cheek with the palm of his hand, and she reluctantly looked up into his eyes. “You have an amazing gift, Natalia,” he said softly. “Don’t ever be afraid to use it.”

  “But what if my gift is a curse in disguise? What if I hold the power, and thus the potential, to become more terrible than the Queen?”

  “You can control it. You’re stronger than she is – I can feel it.”

  “How do you know?”

  His eyes searched hers. “I just do.”

  She held his gaze, not wanting to look away. There was something about looking in his eyes that made her feel at home. It no longer brought on feelings of embarrassment and butterflies, but rather a warmness that settled her beating heart and stilled her worries.

  “If we don’t make it out of there tomorrow,” he began, each word sounding heavy-hearted, “I wanted you to know –”

  “Don’t say that,” she said, interrupting him. “Let’s not think about tomorrow. Please.” The thought of losing him was overbearing. The sheer weight of that possibility threatened to crack what was left of her heart straight down the middle. Just
a little longer. She wanted to put off acknowledging the possibility a little longer, to believe in fairy tales and that “happily ever after” could come true.

  “Natalia,” he murmured, and her breath caught as he tilted his head and leaned in, his eyes locked on her lips. Her heart stuttered, and she forgot how to think or breathe as his mouth drew closer to hers and her eyes started to flutter shut, wanting to give in.

  She remembered the swords, how close they had been to ending his life, and she drew away, blinking several times to steady the flush rising in her face. Caspar blinked, looking at her with an odd mixture of hurt and worry.

  “It’s been a long night,” she said, finding it difficult to talk because her throat was so tight. “I’m going to sleep.”

  She didn’t wait for him to reply. Without looking back, she turned and briskly walked away, feeling the weight of his stare at her back.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Shadows of the Heart

  The inside of the cottage was dark, which was why she jumped when a grating voice said, “Yeh took my blood crystals without asking.”

  She drew up short, choking down a gasp when her heart leapt to her throat. “I’m sorry,” she said at last, knocking her knee on the corner of the table. She winced, rubbing her knee as she hesitantly took a seat beside Wormwart. “If it’s any consolation, they turned on me.”

  “As they would,” he said. “Multiple blood crystals tend to sharpen the magic too much. The body – and the mind – can’t handle it.”

  And the Queen had a whole crown full of them. No wonder she’s mad.

  Natalia sensed the growing tension between them. “I’m so sorry, Wormwart, for what happened to Midnight,” she said softly.

  He sighed. “I know it’s not yer fault. It’s the Queen’s.” His tone sharpened with malice. “I want to put her head on a stake for all of Thesperia to see.”

  She grimaced. Not exactly what she had in mind, but she wasn’t surprised, seeing as it came from Wormwart.

  After a long pause, she got up, thinking he wanted to be left alone.

  “I knew yeh were the princess the day I saw yeh in that red dress wearing Queen Irynis’s necklace.”