The final vision rose, showing a thousand sunrises and sunsets. A male walked into the tower and picked up the onyx scepter. Green light flooded into him, consuming his mortal form. He grew in strength and his body disappeared, turning into a black soul, red-eyed with curved horns. Fangs came out of his mouth, and when he lifted his clawed hands, the apparition disappeared. The green light vanished, and only the mortal remained. A sinister grin covered his face. Turning, he lifted his hand and green light poured off him in waves. When he faced the Clyear, Citrine saw it was Tor Lir.
The Clyear released Citrine. She hurled it away, fingers shaking. She threw herself over the log, bent over at the waist, and gagged and vomited until she could breathe no longer.
22
Ice
Ice pressed into Tor Lir’s cheek, and moisture ran down his neck. Icicles pinned him on all sides and when he tried to move, the hold became stronger. Pale-blue light flickered, and his ear went numb as he waited. The chipping sounds continued in the distance while the Frost Queen paced in circles around the dais. Ever so often, Tor Lir caught a flash of the white fur of her garment, and anger seethed within, so hot he was surprised his skin did not melt the ice block he lay on. Time passed in an agony of slowness, and the knowledge that Citrine and the Clyear were safe—although it could have been a trap—did little to ease his conscience. For once in his life, he’d given in to his violent urges when he should have been strong, much stronger than he was. Words were his vice, not violence. When had he become impulsive and started acting like Citrine? Was he losing himself in the realm of mortals? Again, the memory of the Truth Tellers hung before him, leaving a sour taste in his mouth. It was their fault. They drove him to it, but it was up to him to get himself out of the awkward situation. To calm himself, he closed his eyes and let his consciousness drift away.
When he awoke, much later, his mind was calm and ready. He would think his way out of this instead of giving in to animal urges of violence. He opened his eyes, and a gasp escaped his lips. The Frost Queen lay mere inches from him, assessing him with gray-blue eyes. Hints of pine, tobacco, and the taste of winter’s first snow hung in the air, and Tor Lir’s stiff body went rigid. A malicious smile crossed her lips, and then disappeared. "You have questions for me. Don’t you? Why don’t you ask them?”
Tor Lir studied the sharp features of her pale face. His mouth was cold, and it took a moment for the air to rush between his lips. “Why don’t you free me?”
The Frost Queen raised one eyebrow and blinked several times. “Why would I do that? You tried to kill me when you were free.”
“We are even. You tried to kill me first,” Tor Lir snorted.
The Frost Queen waved a finger in the air. “You and I are not even. You are my self-proclaimed enemy. I only needed the Clyear of Revelation, and my quarrel is not with you. But you seem to want to get in my way, which is why you are my prisoner now.”
Tor Lir groaned inwardly. Should he take her up on her offer and ask? Knowledge might be the key to his escape. Licking his dry lips, he asked: “Why did you let Citrine go free? And why give her the Clyear if you need it?”
The Frost Queen shrugged her shoulders, enough to open up the front of her fur. Tor Lir glimpsed the bare skin of her shoulder but averted his eyes. She was not attractive to him anymore. A white hand reached out to caress his face. Like the ice, her hand was cold, but when he tried to flinch away, the icicles held him fast. He grimaced.
“You are beautiful,” she whispered, a haunting, lost look coming to her eyes. “They say the Creator is a vision himself, more breathtaking than the glorious beauty of the world. For it is in his likeness we were created, and in his eyes, we see true beauty. It is unimaginable, but I believe if the Creator came to walk among us, you would look similar to his compelling beauty. You are perfection in every form, but what are you? I did not ask for the Clyear, I had my own, personal reason for needing it. You think me harsh, cruel even. But I only do what needs to be done for the good of my people and for the good of the Cascade Mountains. The Therian must die. They perpetuate all that is evil in this world.”
Tor Lir gritted his teeth. “It is not up to you to decide who lives and who dies.”
“No?” She slapped his cheek lightly, playfully even. But when she spoke, her words were hard, and her voice rose with each line. “When the Therian create monsters who kill without regard for life, I think I can choose. When the Therian force the Tribe of Minas to offer the young, their own blood, to become wives of those bloodthirsty monsters, I think I can choose. When the Therian break their promise and allow the mountain folk to starve out in the cold, without the shelter and safety of Stronghold, forcing male, female, and child alike to succumb to the elements, I think I can choose.” She sprang to her feet and turned her back on Tor Lir. Her hands morphed into paws with sharp claws. “When the Therian allow my children to die, blood of my blood, then I will choose who lives and who dies. So, don’t talk to me of life and death.”
Each word sank in like a stone. Tor Lir went quiet. His thoughts went back to the first time he’d left the forests of the Iaen, his people, to walk among the mortals. Assumptions were always wrong. He had to hear from both sides to understand the truth. The knowledge hit him so suddenly he jerked and moved his body an inch. He’d judged the Frost Queen before he knew her, and although her actions were wrong—theft and attempted murder—he realized she had acted out of desperation. He closed his eyes. Words welled up in him, an order, strong and clear, a command she could not ignore. “Release me and I will listen.”
The Frost Queen spun around and glared at him. “Don’t you see? It is too late for that. You had your chance, and now it’s mine. I need you as insurance, to verify Citrine will return. And when she does, she will be on my side. You’ll see.”
Tor Lir pressed his lips together. Hard. There were words he needed to say, but his pride wouldn’t let him. The Frost Queen had used him in every way possible and still would not recognize him. He desperately wanted to teach her a lesson but found himself intrigued by her story. What happened in the mountains? What didn’t he know? What had Nodin lied about or omitted from his tale of woe? “If you will not release me, at least see things from my side,” Tor Lir offered. “I came to the mountains to fix a great wrong. There you will agree with me, do you not? The Therian are turning wild, and they asked me to come and stop it.”
The Frost Queen crossed her arms over her furs and tapped a bare foot against the ice.
Tor Lir plunged onward. “You had your people shoot us out of the sky and in the process killed someone I cared about. Very much.”
The Frost Queen opened her mouth and closed it. Her eyes darted across the room and returned to Tor Lir’s face.
He almost smirked. His words were sinking in. “You took the Clyear, a priceless relic they charged me with protecting. You made me look bad in front of the Therian, but more than anything, you tried to kill me. You didn’t ask. You just seduced and took. And now you want my companion to be on your side? Perhaps it’s your past that drove you to act like that, but if you continue, you will make more enemies and fewer alliances.”
Her eyes went cold. She knelt down in front of him. “The Clyear of Revelation is not a priceless relic. True, it is an ancient power, one that shows you the truth, whether you wish to know or not. Often the truth is horrific. It is better to dwell in ignorance, but I needed confirmation of a vision. A vision that gave me a new alliance against the Therian. I don’t care how I come across. I want results. When I saw you, I thought you might be wise, you might be an ally, but it was easy to seduce you. Delightful even.” She gave him a sly grin. “Perhaps I did not handle the interaction between us as I should have, but tell me. If I had asked for the Clyear, would you have given it to me? A stranger in the wood?”
“No,” Tor Lir replied reluctantly.
“How else was I supposed to gain it for my needs?”
He looked away.
She prodded him with h
er finger. “I tried to kill you. I admit it. Beautiful as you are. I am driven by a need for vengeance. If the Therian continue unchecked as they have been, it will be the ruin of the mountain folk. Tell me. Did you see one of their wild creatures? Did you see what it can do?”
“I did,” Tor Lir admitted.
“Now in this one thing, you and I will agree. We have to stop the Therian. But more than that I want them to pay for what they did to my children, to my people, and to the mountain folk who just want to live in peace. Enough is enough. Will you help me?”
Tor Lir opened his mouth, but no words came out. Clouds of frost rose in front of his face, and he stared at the Frost Queen. Spellbound. He wanted to ask what the Therian did, why she hated them, who her children were, and what truth she’d seen in the Clyear. But the cold crept through him, and words wouldn’t leave his throat. If the Frost Queen was right about the Therian, it was his duty to stop the madness, and it would coincide with his original quest. But was that what she wanted. The way her eyes roamed over his body made it seem as though she’d like to eat him alive.
He shuddered. But when he did, he realized the revulsion was gone and lust was back to betray him. Again. Then he saw the flash in her eyes as her fur fell off. She leaned over him, her heat making him yearn for warmth yet desire to flee all at the same time. Although she wasn’t naked underneath, he felt a twitch, and a curse came from his lips. He closed his eyes and tuned her out.
23
Birthright
Citrine awoke, frantic, limbs flailing, unsure of how much time had passed. She sat up, washed out her mouth with fresh snow, spitting one last time for good measure. Now she understood how Zilpha felt. The visions she saw were dark. Perhaps evil. It was too much for one soul to bear. Did Tor Lir know this? Surely, he did not. All he talked about was the green giantess who raised him. The lady he would not call mother, although it was plain from the visions that was who she was. But then there was his father, tormented and powerful beyond all mortals—and perhaps even immortals. From all accounts, it appeared he’d made a deal with the dark ones in Daygone. Was that the tower in Daygone? And if it was, who were those people?
Even as she thought those things, she realized there was only one person who could verify her visions. Triften the Storyteller. He’d traveled with Eliesmore of the Jeweled Sword. The One who had saved the Four Worlds from the Changers. The One who had set the Green Light in the sky that it might reign eternal, like the light of the sun. Who was Eliesmore? What had he done? He’d been through something, and at last lay aside the power of the Green Stone. Which meant Tor Lir’s birthright was that power, a power that could change the world and corrupt everyone. Was that what he carried inside him?
If so, Tor Lir was exactly who the Disciples of Ithar thought he was. If he went to Daygone, he would take up his birthright and become invincible. But if that were the case, why would the Truth Tellers want him to go there? Surely that much power would be impossible to control and he would become dangerous, evil. At times, he already frightened her. On no account could she allow him to discover what was in Daygone. She had to keep him as far away as possible. And if she could not? She and her beasts would have to follow him to Daygone and stop him from taking up that power.
Dread lay heavy on her heart, and so lost was she in her musing she did not hear the snow crunch. “Citrine?”
A scream tore from her lips, and she clasped her hands over her mouth when she saw Elbron’s hulking form. Her body shook, and she melted back down on the log, sobs tearing from her throat. A grunt told her he was there, unsure of what to say or do. Too frightened to be embarrassed, she reached for him. Without hesitation, he sat down and wrapped his arms around her, giving her something solid to hold onto while she sobbed out her fear.
When the flood of tears abated, her eyes stung and her throat was raw. She buried her runny nose into Elbron’s furs and held onto the front of his cloak. Tight.
“What happened with the Frost Queen?” he asked.
Citrine sat up, still holding onto him. One of his arms circled her waist, and she was thankful for his steadiness, as though it could protect her from the visions she’d seen. For a moment she’d forgotten about the deal she made that left Tor Lir a prisoner. Confused thoughts fought to untangle themselves and find an answer for Elbron’s question. Again, she remembered tossing the Clyear of Revelation—something she’d longed for—away like a cursed object. Memories came back to her of Old Edna, an unwelcome visitor from Sanga Sang, who warned her against seeking the treasure. Well. Old Edna had the last laugh now. She’d sought the treasure. Found it. And wished she’d never laid eyes on it. Now she had knowledge, truth, and she had to do something with what she knew.
“Where is Tor Lir?” came Elbron’s next question.
Citrine met his amber eyes and decided to tell him the truth. “He is the Frost Queen’s prisoner in exchange for the Clyear.”
Elbron arched an eyebrow. A hand came up to stroke his beard. “Prisoner. I thought she might have killed him.”
“She won’t,” Citrine rejoined bitterly. But it would be better if the Frost Queen tried to kill him again. Better than him finding out who he really was.
“I assume you looked into the Clyear?”
Citrine nodded. “It was awful.”
Elbron’s hand came down and cupped her cheek. His palm, although rough, was surprisingly warm, and she nestled into it, keeping her eyes on his calm face. His rugged scars made him seem more attractive, more mortal, and a deep, intense longing vibrated within her.
“You don’t have to tell me. If you don’t want to.”
She saw something else in his eyes. Sympathy? Understanding? Here she was, crying over the frightening things she’d seen. A past that showed the future. Yet he sat there, with his people turning wild. He could be next, but the patience in his eyes was clear.
“Elbron.” Her voice went soft with need. She didn’t know him, but out of everyone she was surrounded with, he seemed the most honorable. Something flickered beyond those amber eyes and his thumb stroked her cheek. Waiting.
An unsaid question hung in the air. Citrine’s reservations faded when his hand slipped lower, his thumb running over her lips. She kissed his fingertips in invitation. His face moved closer to hers, the angry scar faded from a battle wound, a mark of glory. Citrine closed the distance between them, parting her lips as they met his, rough, warm, gentle, as though he hesitated, afraid of hurting her. But Citrine did not care. She pressed against him, pushing her tongue into his mouth and inhaling his scent of pine and fir. A low growl came from his throat, and his hand traveled down her neck to her chest, caressing the curves of her breast, tracing an outline over her heavily covered body.
The kiss lengthened, and they pulled back, noses touching, gasping for breath before diving again as though they were leaping off a summit into new territory. Citrine longed for the warmth of Stronghold, for they could only go so far in the snow-covered drifts. Just as she opened her mouth to taste him again—heart thudding, longing stirring in her lower belly—Tor Lir’s face flashed before her mind. She paused and pulled away.
Elbron stroked her chin but did not press her for more, although his amber eyes were pools of desire. Citrine breathed deeply, attempting to catch her breath and fight off the smile that dimpled her cheeks. Despite everything going wrong in the mountains, the blip of desire calmed her. She felt level-headed, clear-thinking, ready to devise a plan.
His hand dropped to her lap and the feather-light touch of his fingers ran down her wrist, toying with her open palm. “I think I can trust you. Even if you were hired by my cousin.”
“Blackmailed. Not hired,” Citrine corrected him.
“Either way, you are here. If I wasn’t plain before it’s because I wanted to watch you and discover whose side you were on. The Frost Queen openly disapproves of Nodin. If she had the Clyear of Revelation and let you walk free, you must be trustworthy.”
Citrine’s brow furr
owed. “You mean that you trust whoever the Frost Queen trusts?”
“Aye.” Elbron looked at her keenly. “The Frost Queen has been trying to stop Nodin for some time. We thought he was gone forever, then he returned and with him came the plague. When the plague got out of control and affected us directly, he set off again to find the Clyear and put an end to it. I believe he knows he can fix this, and when he does, the clan vote will sway in his direction and he will be the leader of the Therian, for he will have proven his merit and dedication to the people.”
Citrine stared off into the snow, considering Elbron’s words. Her forehead creased. “You don’t want him to be the leader?”
“Anyone who uses lies and deceit to become a leader does not deserve the trust of the clans. The Therian are not perfect. We have had our share of violence and hard times. But if we are to change, we need a leader we can trust.”
“Who rules the Therian now?”
“No one. We have a circle of elders, and if any decision must be made, a vote is cast.”
“But why Nodin?” Citrine asked. “And do you think he caused the plague?”
“Nodin has a complicated history with the Therian,” Elbron admitted.
“Does he?” Citrine frowned. “In Sanga Sang he made claims, but your words make me wonder how much of what he said was true.”
Elbron’s eyes narrowed. “Nodin has a way of stretching the truth. We grew up together, along with my sister, Chimera. The Therian have a tight community. We all know each other and tales of Heroes of Old. It was those tales that made Nodin restless, impatient with our lives here and curious for more. Adventure beyond the mountains. He enjoyed the stories of heroes and the deeds they performed to save the world. As children, we often reenacted those stories. One day we went to the cliffs where the Therian used to meet with the Tribe of Minas and demand brides in order to extend their bloodline. We were young, not all of us could shift yet, and Nodin’s younger brother fell and broke his legs. We called for help, but by the time the elders came and took him back to Stronghold, he died. Nodin took it hard, but even so the Therian seemed to turn against him, blaming him for his brother’s death.”
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