He recalled their last words as they left the cave and followed Lord Nodin to meet the Xctas. He’d been determined to forget the dark words from the Truth Tellers, and the terrifying aura of his shadow. His conversation with Citrine only added to his frustration, but that morning, among the snowflakes, he felt a purity as he spoke with Hava. She’d made him laugh, lightened the air around him and banished his dark thoughts. When they reached the Xctas, she’d invited him to ride with her. He’d hesitated, then declined, knowing she only wanted to draw closer to him, and he needed to pull away and be alone with his thoughts without hurting her. If only he’d said yes, when she fell, he could have healed her, could have saved her.
But Hava had been slain, and if the arrows were from the Frost Queen, he had to make her pay. The terms had changed; if the Truth Tellers could demand a life, he could also demand a life for a life.
The halls widened. Drawings appeared on the walls, and carved sculptures were perched along the corridor. One of a tiger, another of a bear, and yet another of a lifelike wolf. Tor Lir started when he saw the first one but quickly realized it was only blue ice, adding a hostile air to the cavern. The silent Fúlishité padding on was unnerving, and then Tor Lir began to hear it.
Echoes hurled through the air like a thousand tingling bells that whispered secrets into the walls of ice and pass musical words one to another. After a few moments of listening, Tor Lir realized it was digging, most likely more Fúlishités chipping away at the ice, and he could see why. It reminded him of the forest of Shimla and the caves of the Iaen where jewels glittered in abundance, pouring out of the walls like water from the sky. A lust for shining diamonds filled his heart with a hint of nostalgia. When he was young, he'd steal jewels from the Rainidrains and gift them to the Jesnidrains, winning over the females with glittering diamonds, ruby jewels, and emeralds that matched his eyes. They liked those the most. The more colorful, the better. But he was young and playful back then, and no one he'd known or cared about had died. Again, he saw Hava's smile, and the fierceness in the way she held her body as she taught him how to use the sword.
A twitch in his arm made him reach for the hilt of the blade, but the halls curved and opened into a majestic cavern. Tor Lir's eyes were instantly drawn upward, and his jaw dropped at the thousand shining icicles that hung like chandeliers from the arched ceiling. A thousand spikes that could fall and skewer them like spears through a wild boar. A hush hung in the air, as though someone was taking a deep breath and continued to inhale forever. Whispers shook the air, and more of the short-bearded males roamed around the room, ignoring them.
The Fúlishité who had led them moved to the side and pointed his pickaxe toward the center of the room where a staircase, carved of stone, led up to a wide dais. On top stood the Frost Queen.
Tor Lir's body went rigid, and he removed his arm from Citrine’s waist. She said nothing, just stared from Tor Lir to the Frost Queen.
The Queen was dressed in a shapeless cascade of white fur, and yet although it did nothing to add to her beauty it certainly did not take away from it. But Tor Lir's heart hardened, and he saw her not for her physical beauty, but for the conniving of her heart. A deep-seated hatred rose, and even though the room was full of short males armed with axes—some with hammers—he pulled the blade free and strode toward the stairs.
High laugher filled the air. “You survived my onslaught. No mortal would have survived my attack, which only confirms you are something else.” She wagged her finger at him, and then her eyes roamed over Citrine. “And you brought the Enchantress.”
Tor Lir paused, slightly taken aback by how much she knew. Who had told her about him and Citrine? Had she looked into the Clyear of Revelation and discovered who they were? But it did not add up. How did she know to attack them and take the Clyear for herself? He pointed the tip of the blade at her and stopped just short of the stairs. “I demand that you answer for your crimes. You set your warriors against my companions and me when we were on our way to Stronghold. You caused the untimely death of someone young and full of promise. You stole the Clyear of Revelation—which does not belong to you—and left me for dead. These crimes you must answer for.”
The Frost Queen dropped her hands to her sides and moved to the edge of the stairs. Her pale, white skin glimmered under the shades of blue crystal, and her eyes locked on Tor Lir's. His gaze did not waver as he stared into the pools of her eyes that were impossible to read. The hush in the air wrapped around her words, amplifying them in her hall. “You come to my home and demand reparations. You must be stupid, and here I thought you might be wise beyond your years.”
“Perhaps we can come to a deal,” Citrine interrupted, her voice loud, bold in the cavern.
Tor Lir hissed. “There can be no deal—“
The Frost Queen raised her hand. “I believe there can be. What do you want?”
But her gaze never left Tor Lir's.
“I want the Clyear. I also want your life, but I will settle for one.” He made sure his words were cold, letting her feel the weight of his anger. Violence was not something he felt often. Perpetuating violence went against his nature, but the Frost Queen deserved death.
She pressed her lips together and pointed a slender finger at him. “You shall have neither.” Her gaze went to Citrine. “Now, I will speak to you, because you have some sense and do not disrespect my home by demanding my head.”
“Were you responsible?” Citrine asked, breathless.
Tor Lir was surprised with how level-headed Citrine acted.
The Frost Queen paced. “Responsible? Why yes. I always accept responsibility for my actions. You have come to the Cascade Mountains brought by whom? None other than Nodin. The reproachable Nodin, who calls himself a Lord. Do you know his nature? Do you know what he is like? He will use anyone and everyone to get what he wants, and he desires to rule the mountains. His desires infringe on my domain. His actions will bring death to all the mountain folk, and yet you stand by his side, defending him. There have been casualties on both sides, many before you ever arrived.” Her gaze returned to Tor Lir. “So, don't blame me for death. The death of a few to save many is worth it.”
“If it is the plague you speak of, we know about it,” Citrine interrupted, her voice firm. “We came to stop the Therian from turning wild, not get involved with your petty feuds.”
"Oh," the Frost Queen gave a bitter laugh. "Yet you insist on your way. You pretend you know. I tell you; I will make a deal with you." She pointed at Citrine. "Here are the terms. I will give you the Clyear, and you will allow me to keep him." She pointed at Tor Lir. "The Nameless One."
Tor Lir gritted his teeth. "That's not good enough," he said and dashed up the stairs toward the Frost Queen.
20
Deal
Citrine watched in horror as Tor Lir dashed up the stairs, swinging the blade at the Frost Queen. A sinister grin came over the queen’s face. She lifted a hand, palm facing up, and brought it down. Icicles dropped from the ceiling and hurled toward Tor Lir, who continued, unaware.
A scream tore out of Citrine’s mouth, and she threw up her hands, afraid to watch him die. There was a thump. Heart racing, Citrine dared to look. Tor Lir lay flat on the dais; his sword had disappeared, and icicles pinned him down. The Frost Queen put a foot on Tor Lir’s back and leaned over him. “I preferred you as a lover.”
Then she descended the stairs, white furs billowing out behind her, her pointed, pale white face focused on Citrine. Horror dawned on Citrine, and she froze, cold and quaking, kicking herself at their folly. She’d thought Tor Lir had more sense and would speak first instead of giving in to violence. Usually their roles were reversed, but now she saw there was something much deeper going on with him. It did not seem like grief, but what was it? What was wrong?
“Now.” The Frost Queen came to a halt in front of Citrine. Her large ears and pointed chin resembled the face of a fox. “What do you think of my deal?”
Citrine’s
thoughts flew back to the Master of the Forest who’d tricked her. Eyes narrowed, she faced the Frost Queen. “I know a bully when I see one. I also know when I’m beat.” There was no way she could call her beasts into the cavern under the mountain.
The Frost Queen gave a cool smile. “I’d hoped we would be allies, but I believe the Clyear will be enlightening. So, take it. Leave. Cure the Therian. And then return for the Nameless One. I would have words with him first.”
Citrine hesitated, her eyes going to Tor Lir, who strained—teeth gritted—against the ice holding him firm.
The Frost Queen continued, her hands moving under her furs. She dropped her voice and leaned forward, as though she was sharing a secret. “Reserve your judgement until you see what the Clyear has to tell you. Trust me. You’ll change your mind afterward.” She winked and licked her top lip, as though she were about to seduce Citrine.
Citrine shivered and stepped back. She had to figure out a way to leave with both Tor Lir and the Clyear. “Will you let me speak to him?”
The Frost Queen’s eyes narrowed into slits. “No.” Her hands appeared again, and this time she held the crystal winged horse in both hands, as though it would break. She took a step toward Citrine. “The time for speaking is over. Take it and leave.”
“Just go,” Tor Lir’s ragged voice rang out. He strained against his bonds, but the ice held him fast. “You have the Clyear and that’s important. Leave. I will figure this out.”
The command jolted Citrine, and she bit her lip, eyes gliding from Tor Lir, face down on the dais like a sacrifice, to the ermine-covered Frost Queen. White lashes were tinted with ice, and her eyes were blue like the shimmering that hung in the air. Under her furs she appeared fragile, but her expression warned of her inner strength.
“Tor Lir,” Citrine whispered, wanting to say something, anything to comfort him. Promises to return died on her lips, even though she needed him for the next quest. Instead, her gaze went to the Frost Queen. “Will you keep him alive?”
The Frost Queen smirked. “He is no good to either of us dead. Besides, I tried to kill him once. It appears he does not go down quickly.”
“Leave,” Tor Lir demanded, his tones sending a vibration down her back.
The hum of icicles forced her to swallow hard, and even though she did not want to, she glanced up. It would do well to leave before the pointed ends were embedded in her skin. There was nothing to bargain for here. They’d walked into the lair of the monster and she was lucky enough to leave with her life and the Clyear.
The Frost Queen produced a bag of leather and unceremoniously dumped the Clyear into it before pushing the bag toward Citrine. “I wouldn’t advise touching it with your bare skin until you are ready. While this Clyear is not as powerful as the great Clyear of Power, it will show you truth, as long as you hold a question in your heart.”
Citrine’s fingers wrapped around warm leather. With a final glance at Tor Lir, she turned and marched away as best she could on the slick floor, ignoring the curious gazes of the Fúlishités.
They followed her as far as the entrance, where the gray doors opened to allow her to exit. Heart in her throat, she almost ran through the gates, fearing that all along the Frost Queen was toying with her and it was a trap.
Great gasps escaped her mouth as she headed uphill, away from the Frost Queen’s lair. Grift’s whispered tones came to her mind. What happened?
I’m fine, but I need time to think. Do you know where Elbron went? He might be in his bear form.
Grift went silent and then said, Watching from the trees.
Thank you, Grift. Hide for now. I will let you know if I need you again.
Part of her was tempted to call Grift to meet her on the next hilltop. She could run if she wanted to; with the power of the Clyear of Revelation, she could go to the Udi, assist them in their hour of need, and gain access to her personal version of paradise. The thought tempted her and tugged on the deep strings of longing. Ever since her lover, Hansel, had turned on her, she’d been lost and floundering, longing for a place to call home, safety for her beasts, and yes, if she were honest with herself, a replacement for Hansel.
She allowed herself a moment of self-pity and ducked under the needles of a pine tree, searching for a place to hide from prying eyes. Dusting snow off a rock, she sat down cross-legged and rested her back against a fallen log. The leather pouch lay heavy in her lap, and she let a hand rest on top of it, feeling the shape of the crystal through the thick material.
A sob came to her throat, and she closed her eyes to better recall how happy she’d been before everything shattered. Even though there had been minor angst in her relationship with Hansel, she missed the way he made her feel. It was his chocolate-brown eyes that had captivated her first, and then his gentle kisses, stolen in the twilight. When she leaned against his broad chest, she felt hope that she could be normal, like all mortals. What false hope it had turned out to be, and he, the one who claimed he loved her, had turned her over to the people.
Her life had changed. Things were much different, and she was stuck with Tor Lir. As she thought of him, she realized she wasn’t as frustrated nor as angry with him as she assumed she’d be. Like Citrine, he was different from the mortals and had something unique he carried within him. But he was insistent on denying or hiding his power, and even though he’d slept with the Frost Queen—although the abhorrent hatred the two had for each other was clear to see—Citrine could not deny the attraction she had for him. She lifted her chin at the thought she’d long pushed away. He was a prisoner of someone who had tried to kill him, and all she could think of was getting him back and all to herself again. It was the not knowing what he truly was that gnawed at her. Who was he?
Heart in her throat, Citrine almost ripped open the leather bag. The knowledge she sought lay in her lap. Perhaps she would ask the Clyear of Revelation about the Therian and how to stop the plague of wildness later. First, she had a more important question.
When her fingers touched the solidness of the relic, a vibration sizzled through her fingers. Pulling it out, she cupped the crystal winged horse in both palms and turned it from side to side, examining it from each angle. Aside from the vibration that hummed through her, exciting the very blood in her body, there was nothing visually that made it stand out.
Citrine glanced around the wood one last time, to ensure she was alone and no one was watching her. Then, feeling rather foolish, she held the Clyear up to eye level and spoke. “Tell me. Who is Tor Lir?”
21
Revelation
The humming sound increased until it seemed like the roar of the wind. Citrine’s chest tightened and her nostrils flared as her vision changed and a chant whispered through her thoughts.
Beware. Be warned. The price you pay is death.
Pictures rose before her, and it seemed like she had the eyes of an Xctas and flew over each incident.
A black tower rose in a land of ruby and obsidian. A desolate land, chilling, horrible, and beautiful all at once. Fingers of ice gripped Citrine, and she watched as a tower rose before her. Inside were three. Two males with black hair, but one had ruby red eyes and the other emerald green eyes. Eyes the color of the Green Light that hung in the sky, the same color of Tor Lir’s eyes. The third was a female with wings on her back and her face in her hands, as though she were weeping. The emerald-eyed male stood in front of an altar, and he leaned over a thick black book, reading. He did not notice, but the words on the page seemed to shift into blood, black and red, and pour out on the floor, twisting into revolting shapes.
The vision changed. Violet and blue light erupted, and a cyclone of green encircled it. Lightning bolts shook the air, burning it with the strength of power sizzling through it. Emotions, thick and potent, clung to the light. Vengeful anger. Ferocious betrayal. And a pure rage so deep and bitter it seemed an endless pit of violence.
Citrine attempted to blink and shrink away, but the Clyear held her firm, forc
ing her to gaze into the eye of the storm.
Ruby light flooded her vision, and she saw a ring, a blood-red jewel, fall from the sky into the destruction of a smoking land. The emerald-eyed male walked out of the rubble, his face twisted in anger, and he held the Jeweled Sword in his hand.
A third vision came, and when it rose Citrine wanted nothing more than for the horror to stop. Tears came to her eyes, and she stretched her fingers, trying to drop the Clyear and withhold the vision. It was everything and nothing she’d been prepared for. She twisted and shook as bile rose in her throat. But the Clyear held her firm, forcing her to look until she could not tell if her eyes were open or closed.
Greenery clouded her vision. A forest appeared, misted in golden light and the twinkling of a thousand gems. A couple walked through the woods, pausing under trees to kiss, their eyes alight with intensity. When the light caught their faces, Citrine saw a green giantess and with her was the same emerald-eyed male who carried the Jeweled Sword. They disappeared into a bower, light casting shadows of lovemaking across the glade.
The next vision showed the green giantess, heavy with child.
There she was again, holding a babe, singing to him, playing with his wisps of black hair. When he opened his eyes, they were the color of emerald stones.
Another vision consumed her, and she saw the male with the Jeweled Sword walk into the dark tower once again. This time he ignored the book and walked toward the throne. An onyx scepter lay on top of it. The male opened himself up; green light flooded out of him and poured into the scepter. The words he spoke were audible. “I seal you. Only my blood shall unlock the power of creation. I seal this curse. Let no one break it.”
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