by Kara Jaynes
Jack’s hand lifted from her shoulder only to trail down, stopping at the small of her back, his fingers pressing slightly.
Isabelle felt a thrill of happiness flit through her at his touch. She wished things could back to the way they were before all of this had happened. When they were just two nobody’s. When Jack was carefree and kind. When he loved her. Before I hurt him. She clenched her fists. Does he still love me? Is Silvan right? Does Jack’s anger really stem from his curse?
As if reading her thoughts, Jack tensed, his fingertips pressing almost painfully against her back before he stepped away from her.
Isabelle didn’t look at him, continuing to watch the snowy landscape before her as she listened to him leave, his footsteps receding until they faded completely.
Would Isabelle be able to help Jack lift his curse? How would she do it? Who was Glacia, and where did she come from? Why had she cursed Jack and Silvan? So many questions, and no answers to any of them.
When she climbed back into bed a few minutes later, she could still feel the memory of his fingers resting on the curve of her back.
34
“Berries.” Isabelle eyed Lady Ilysa incredulously. “Out of the city.”
The noblewoman scowled at her. “Are you deaf or just stupid? Yes, in the forest, like I said. And not just any berries. Find blood berries.” She returned to painting her face, peering in the mirror. “Besides, I don’t want you getting under foot.” She selected a bright red from a small palette, applying it to her lips with painstaking slowness. “It’s a very important day for my Jillian.”
Isabelle considered this. Usually an “important day” meant lots of shopping, which in turn meant Isabelle got to carry too many boxes and bags. The country sounded much more enjoyable. She hadn’t seen Ash in a very long time. She curtseyed. “I will leave at once, my lady.”
“If Jillian hasn’t told you, I should inform you that she has been invited to another luncheon today,” Lady Ilysa said. “By the princess herself.” Isabelle looked at her, and the woman’s eyes glittered. “Lots of important nobles will be there, as well as Sir Reginald, most likely.” She smiled. “Such an honor. I suspect it’ll only be a matter of time before my daughter and Sir Reginald are married.”
They both stood silently looking at each other for a moment before Isabelle swept a deep curtsey, hiding her sneer. Lady Ilysa clearly thought Isabelle had designs on Sir Reginald. “How very fortunate for her, my lady.”
“Yes, quite.” Lady Ilysa’s voice was crisp as she turned back to the mirror. “You may go now.”
Isabelle fetched a basket and left.
The city was a bustle of activity, it felt good to be out of the palace, away from stupid Lady Ilysa. I don’t have designs on Sir Reginald. Why would she think that? Lady Ilysa had to see how Jack and Isabelle fought and argued at every turn. Jack, she silently amended. Jack argues at every turn. The fool man provokes me. Even when they played a simple board game, they couldn’t stop bickering, even if it was good-natured. She winced, remembering the game of Knights and Kings she’d played with him yesterday evening. The jealous look Lady Ilysa had shot her was nothing short of murderous. It hadn’t made sense to Isabelle then, but after her comment this morning, Isabelle understood. Lady Ilysa wanted Sir Reginald for Jillian and saw Isabelle as competition. Fetching berries was an effective way to get Isabelle out of the way, so Jillian would have to take a different servant to the luncheon.
Isabelle grimaced. As a servant herself, she didn’t have any say in the matter. Rules were rules.
An hour later she walked out of the city. Lifting her pale blue skirt, she began to run as the smudge of forest on the horizon grew.
Ash came running to meet her, tail wagging as she whined. She leaped around Isabelle, eyes glowing with happiness. Isabelle hugged her, burying her face in the wolf’s shaggy gray fur. “I missed you, too.”
Ash knew where to find blood berries when Isabelle asked her about them, and within a few minutes led Isabelle to a large sprawling patch of them. Isabelle began filling her basket, telling Ash about the past several weeks. The wolf growled when told about her suspension, and louder still when she heard about Jack.
“Strange thing is,” Isabelle said, “he doesn’t seem all bad.” A cold wind blew through the clearing and she shivered, pulling her red cloak about herself. “Well, he has made winter come early, and he’s rude and condescending, but he’s also protective, and,” she frowned, feeling puzzled, “I think he still cares for me.” Why? After what she’d done, and his obvious anger over it, why did he still care?
Ash turned to face the direction of the city, her lips peeling back in a snarl.
Isabelle felt the hairs rise on the back of her neck by the wolf’s reaction. What was out there? She silently berated herself for not bringing her bow.
“I thought I might find you out here.” Jack came sauntering into the clearing, wearing his usual black shirt and trousers. His jacket was new, though. It looked padded, like his last jacket hadn’t been warm enough. Isabelle looked at it, musing. Did the cold bother Jack? Surely not. He was the one doing this, after all.
Jack looked at Ash, eyes narrowed. “Stand down, Lady Wolf.” He still used the nickname he’d given her months ago.
If anything, Ash’s growl grew louder, her hackles raised.
“I said, stand down.” The temperature plummeted, Jack’s face twisting in anger.
Isabelle reached out, lightly touching Ash on the back. “It’s all right, Ash. He won’t hurt us.”
The wolf snorted at her, clearly unconvinced, but she quit snarling.
“How did you find me? Why are you here?” Isabelle asked.
Jack arched an eyebrow. “I followed your tracks. I saw you leaving the palace without your bow. I figured you might need protection.” The temperature rose slightly. It was still cold, but Isabelle could feel her fingertips again.
“Thank you, but I don’t need protecting,” she said. “I have Ash.”
“I didn’t know you two still traveled together,” Jack said.
Isabelle smiled down at the wolf. “I’m lucky to have such a loyal friend.” Ash licked her hand in response, her tail wagging.
Isabelle resumed picking berries. “Anyway, aren’t you supposed to be hanging out with Jillian or something?”
Jack grimaced. “Probably.” He hesitated, then said, “I may have ditched some lunch social or other. I’m bored with all their gatherings.” He grinned wryly. “Aside from the food, being a noble isn’t as fun as I would have suspected.”
“Lady Ilysa is expecting you to propose any day now.”
Jack laughed. “She and every other noble in Illyminatym with a daughter.” He winked at Isabelle. “So many choices.”
Isabelle rolled her eyes but smiled back. She’d missed the friendly banter. Her basket was almost half-full and she picked slower, reluctant to return to the city.
“Do you know when your suspension is going to be lifted?” Jack asked. He walked over and helped her pick berries. Occasionally their hands brushed as they dropped the red berries into the basket.
“No,” Isabelle said. “It’s been over a month, though, so hopefully soon.”
“Is Ilysa keeping you longer for any particular reason?” Jack asked, his tone mild.
Isabelle furrowed her brow, thinking on the question. “Well . . . I think I’ve done okay, for the most part.” She sighed, remembering her first meeting with the noblewoman. “I embarrassed her last summer, though, in front of a servant. I don’t think Lady Ilysa has forgotten.”
“Well, she can’t keep you a servant forever,” Jack said. “At some point, Tyro will come and fetch you, I suppose.”
Isabelle didn’t respond. She hoped Tyro would reinstate her as a Fabled Hunter soon, but what if Lady Ilysa told him that Isabelle had been a wretched servant? Maybe she could ask Jillian to put in a good word for her.
“The ball is in a few days,” Jack said, his voice casual. “May
be I could ask Tyro to end your suspension before then.”
Isabelle’s heart lifted at the thought. Everyone thought Jack was Sir Reginald. His opinion would carry weight.
Except Isabelle wasn’t supposed to be on friendly terms with the real Sir Reginald. She’d never spend any substantial time with the man. Jack risked arousing suspicions if he asked now.
“It’s too risky,” Isabelle said, her mood souring. “You’ll be found out.”
Jack shrugged. “Maybe.”
Which brought Isabelle to another question. “Jack, what are your plans for Illyminatym? What do you intend to do about the king and the other Fabled Hunters?” She narrowed her eyes, looking up at the lean man who stood beside her. “You told me in the city Telbion that the time of kings and Hunters was at an end. If that’s the case, maybe it doesn’t matter whether or not I become a Hunter again.”
Jack nodded vaguely. “True.” He fell silent after that until Isabelle prodded him with an elbow.
“Well? What are you going to do?”
“If I tell you, you’ll foil my plan.”
“As a servant?” Isabelle rolled her eyes. “I can hardly breathe without permission.”
Jack eyed her warily. “I know you better than that, Isabelle. You wouldn’t rest until you ferreted out a way to make my plans more complicated.”
“Jack, why? Why are you doing this? Are you so angry at the king? At me? Is it worth it?”
Jack’s jaw was clenched and he didn’t answer for a moment. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“Yes, I would,” Isabelle pressed. “I know you, Jack.”
He exhaled, his sigh full of regret. “Do you?”
They both fell silent after that, filling the basket quickly. Isabelle studied the berries as they dropped from her hands. Bright red, they were the only intense color in the wintry wilderness. “I miss flowers.” She rolled her eyes at her statement, even if it was true. Who had time for flowers?
Jack stared at her, clearly taken aback by her statement. “Flowers?”
“It’s nothing,” Isabelle said. “I don’t know why I said that. It’s obviously the wrong time of year for them to grow.” She paused for a moment before continuing. “My father would sometimes bring me roses from his travels.” She bit her lower lip. She missed him.
Jack stared at her a moment, then held out a hand, palm held upward, fingers extended like he was about to catch something. He closed his eyes, brow furrowed in concentration.
A thin tendril of ice formed, hovering above his hand. It grew into a slender stalk, it’s tip budding out into petals of ice so delicate, they looked like bits of fragile paper. Leaves and icy thorns grew along the stem. The wind picked up, swirling softly around Isabelle and Jack.
When Jack opened his eyes, he held a rose. Flawless in its detail, the only thing that separated it from a real rose was—
“It’s made of ice,” Isabelle breathed, staring at it. “Astounding.”
Jack rolled his eyes, making a face. “It’s just a flower.”
“A beautiful flower,” Isabelle said. She’s smiled at him. “So I guess they can grow in winter.”
Jack swallowed, looking suddenly nervous. “Here,” he said. “I mean, if you want it. It’s nothing special, but if you like it . . .” He trailed off, looking away, rose held out to her.
Isabelle looked at it, surprised. “Um, okay. Thanks.” She took the flower, her fingers brushing Jack’s as she did.
Jack’s face was flushed and he smiled awkwardly. He motioned to the basket Isabelle held with her other arm. “Did Lady Ilysa ask you to gather these?”
“Yes,” Isabelle said. “And I don’t think you should talk to me when I’m with her. She’s getting jealous of us.” That came out wrong. “You should spend time with Jillian. You like her, right?”
The redheaded man grimaced. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to play matchmaker.”
Isabelle plastered a grin on her face. I can’t save you, Jack. Not anymore. “Who, me? No, no, I wouldn’t do that. Why would I do that? I despise Jillian. Well, despise is a strong word, but really . . .” She turned away. “Thanks for the rose. I gotta get back.”
She paused mid-stride as Jack spoke. “I know why you haven’t asked Silvan to take you away from here.”
“Oh?” Isabelle was surprised by how calm she sounded. Her heart hammered against her ribcage at his words. “What is it, you think?”
“You haven’t decided which one of us you want, yet.”
Isabelle clenched her hands into fists. “We don’t make a good match, Jack.”
“We could if you wanted us to.”
“I think you’ve made it very clear how you feel about me.”
“Even a man makes mistakes.”
Isabelle sniffed disapprovingly.
“We could be friends, Isabelle. More than friends.”
“Could we?” Isabelle’s arms shook and, slipping the rose into the basket, gripped the handle more firmly than needed. She needed to get away. “We fight too much.” She began to walk toward the city.
“Our spirits are alike.” Jack’s voice was low, insistent. He followed her, frozen grass and crisp snow crumpling under his boots. “We could do anything if we worked together. You have your archery, and I have my frost. Forget being a Fabled Hunter. We could do anything we like, be anyone we like.”
Isabelle paused. “You’re cursed, Jack. I don’t know who Glacia is, but she’s not good. She’s using you.”
Jack was standing directly behind her, his presence comforting and familiar. “Witch Baba cursed me years ago, but Glacia hasn’t, I’m sure of it.” He laughed, and Isabelle shivered, feeling his cold breath on her neck. “I have power now. Power I never dreamed of. It’s not a curse. Not for me.”
The cold in the air grew stronger as Jack’s fingers tentatively wound themselves in her hair. “What do you want, Isabelle?” His voice was a husky whisper. “What do you want?”
“I want my honor restored,” Isabelle whispered back. If her heart had been beating quickly before, it was now pounding at a full gallop. “I want to be a Hunter again.” And I want . . . I don’t know.
There was a pause, and then Jack wrapped one arm around her waist, the other across her shoulders. “Then I will restore your honor,” he breathed, his lips grazing the back of her neck. “Meet me at the ball, Isabelle. If you shoot me with an arrow, it will break my Mask of Enchantment spell, and will expose me for who I truly am to everyone. The king won’t have a choice but to restore you as a Fabled Hunter when he learns you were right all along.”
“Jack?” She could hardly speak. Her emotions were a tangled maze of wonder, worry and . . . what? “I can’t ask you to do that. It’s too dangerous.”
Jack laughed, his nose touching her ear. His arms tightened almost painfully and then he stepped away from her.
Isabelle spun around to face him. Jack smiled encouragingly at her. “There isn’t anyone in the palace who is stronger in magic than me,” he said. “I’ll only stick around long enough for them to see me, then I’ll leave.”
“Where will you go?” Isabelle asked. “Won’t that mess up Glacia’s plans?”
Jack scrubbed a hand through his hair, feigned indifference in his expression. “Maybe Glacia’s plans don’t matter as much as I thought they did.”
He was willing to forgo his revenge, his desire for power, and risk Glacia’s wrath, for her. For Isabelle.
Gratitude welled up in Isabelle’s heart. “Thank you, Jack.” She smiled, feeling a lump form in her throat. “I . . . don’t know what to say.” Is this really happening?
Jack frowned, chewing the inside of his cheek as he considered her. “I don’t know how you’ll get to the ball, but if you can manage that, you’ll have a full audience.”
“An arrow? Will it hurt you?”
Jack shook his head and brushed a forelock of hair that fell into his eyes. “No. It’s an enchanted arrow. I will fetch yo
ur bow before I go to the masquerade ball. I’ll have an easier time smuggling it in than you would.” He smiled, his grin crooked. “I have to leave now.” His expression grew sad. “There isn’t anyone else, Isabelle.”
“What do you mean?” Isabelle asked, but Jack had already turned and sprinted into the forest. The cold in the air lifted a little but Isabelle trembled, pulling her cloak tighter about herself.
She felt a tendril of uncertainty as she looked hard at the possibility that Jack might still love her.
35
Isabelle exited the training halls, wiping sweat from her brow. She started with surprise when she almost bumped into Aviina.
“Excuse me,” Isabelle said, “I didn’t notice you.” She knelt down to lace up her boots. She’d taken them off for the last half of her exercise.
“It’s fine,” Aviina said, shrugging. She stood there a moment watching Isabelle. “Tyro and I have heard you still come to the halls to train, despite your suspension. It speaks well of your character, to be so dedicated.”
Isabelle smiled humorlessly. “Well, it wouldn’t do to lose what edge I have.”
“Correct.”
Isabelle hesitated a moment. Aviina seemed to be in a better mood than normal, so she plowed ahead. “Aviina, what does it mean if a man gives you a flower?” Her little ice-rose was hidden away in her bedroom, holding its shape and form despite the fact that her room was warm.
Aviina jerked in surprise. “A flower?” She frowned, mulling over the question. “I suppose it could mean a number of things, but it’s probably one of two. Either he’s trying to apologize for something he’s done or is about to do, or,” her expression darkened, “he’s trying to lead you on a merry chase.”
Isabelle tilted her head in puzzlement. That didn’t sound right at all. Unless he was trying to apologize for his horrid behavior when he’d first started this charade. “Are you sure? Wouldn’t it mean he simply likes you? Tyro’s never given you flowers?”
Aviina scrunched her nose in distaste. “Ew, no. He would never give me something so useless.” Her expression smoothed, thinking of her fiancé. “He gives me things like daggers and waterskins, whetstones and arrows.” Her face took on a dreamy look. “He understands me.”
