Enchanted Frost (Frost Series #8) (A YA Romantic Fantasy Adventure)

by Gow, Kailin

  “Hurry!” echoed Logan, kicking the sides of his horse, “we need to get out of here, and fast! It isn't safe here.”

  But his words came too late. Just as we had gotten onto our horses, kicking their sides to spur them on homewards towards the palace, I heard a sharp, angry cry ring out, echoing across the village. “It's her!” The voice was savage with fury and rage. “It's her, Breena, the Fairy Queen! Get her!” Laughter – raucous and cruel – roared up around us; Logan and I exchanged quick, panicked glances as we saw one of the villagers, a tall stocky man in his mid-forties, with bulging muscles, a sword in hand, standing there, staring straight at us.

  “You think you're so powerful, don't you?” His snarl was full of bitter hatred. “You think that you are the greatest Queen Feyland's ever had, don't you? But you're wrong, dear girl. So very wrong. We know the truth about you, now. We know that you infiltrated this great land from your mortal world – the filthy mortal world where you belong! We know that you seduced the King Kian into loving you, when all the while you were making him into nothing more than a cuckold, playing him with that filthy, foul, Wolf-Beast there!” He pointed at Logan, spitting on the earth. “It's true, isn't it? That you've been carrying on with the Wolf Prince behind Kian's back? We here in Feyland have long memories – we remember the engagement between the Wolf Prince and the Fairy Queen! We remember! You can't fool us. Tell me it was a spell, tell us all that it was an evil enchantment, but I know the truth. Once Kian came home and found out what you'd been up to behind his back, once he saw the real you and figured out what a sick, disgusting little wench you were, you pretended that you'd been under a spell – because that was the only way you'd ever escape his righteous wrath!”

  “That's a lie!” Logan's face contorted with anger. “That's a wicked lie and you know it.”

  I shook my head. “No...” I whispered. “He believes it...look!”

  A strange apparition had appeared upon the villager's furious, hate-filled face. As if a shadow were flitting over it – yet a shadow that remained upon his face, growing darker than ink, morphing in shape, so that it almost looked as if a second face, a cruel skull's face, were imposed in shadow on his form.

  “What's that?” Logan muttered to me under his breath. “What's on his face?”

  “I don't know?” I whispered back through clenched teeth. “But I've got a feeling that whatever this is, it's got something to do with this strange magic that's been going on in the village. I don't trust it....”

  “You will suffer, wench!” the villager cried. “We'll get a new Queen. A Queen who is loyal, strong, and true. A Queen who will not murder her lovers in their sleep!”

  “Aye!” Another villager had appeared – this one with many more in tow. He stood at the front of the mob, a stone in hand. “A Queen we can trust! A Queen we can believe in! A Queen that is more than a mere mongrel half-breed human who consorts with animals of her kind.” He raised his arm, his stone clearly in hand, grinning wildly as he made to throw.

  The girl in my lap hid her face in my chest as she whimpered, terrified.

  “Stop!” I cried. “If you hit me, you'll hurt her! She's just a child...”

  But that didn't stop him. A sharp rock came whizzing straight at me, missing the child by a hair and skinning my shoulder. I couldn't help but cry out in pain. But that, it seemed, was the spark that they needed – the impetus for their violence. Instantly a whole host of stones came flying through the air, aimed directly at me. One struck the child; she screamed in pain, but in their anger and rage her cries did not stop them.

  “Go!” cried Logan. “Now – hurry!”

  I kicked my steed, and we began racing through the village, into the woods, the horse spurred on in terror by the pain of the hailstorm of rocks that kept shuttling towards us, one after the other, faster and faster until my throat was tight and my heart was beating faster than a hummingbirds.

  “Help!” the girl cried as we raced through the emerald forests, making our way as swiftly as we could back to the Summer Palace.

  “The mob is coming!” Logan began to cough with exhaustion. “The palace won't be safe anymore – not with so many fairies turned against you like this. And if the villagers have been turned, who's to say that your guards haven't been, too? We can't trust them, Breena. We can't trust anyone!”

  The girl was shaking, shivering. “Where are we going?” she sobbed. “Help me, please!”

  I had to make a decision – split-second. My heartbeat quickened; my throat was dry. Terror soaked through me like sweat.

  “Into the woods,” I said. “Away from everyone or anything. We don't know who we can trust. Nowhere is safe...”

  We ran – our horses galloping through the woods, our breath shallow with exhaustion. It was only when we made it to a clearing and caught our breath, able at last to stop, that Logan and I were able to look at one another, fear mounting in our faces.

  “We should wait here,” said Logan.

  “But the girl...” I looked down, only to gasp in shock. The girl had vanished into thin air.

  Chapter 14

  “What was that?” I clapped a hand to my mouth in surprise. “Did you see that?”

  “See what?”

  “The girl...” I looked up in confusion. “Logan – she's gone.”

  Logan looked worried. “Did she fall?”

  “No – she can't have done – I was holding her – she was right there beside me, right there...but then she just...vanished.”

  Logan looked grave as he stroked his chin, looking around for any sign of her. “If this is what I think it is,” he said, “then whatever enemy we're up against is very powerful indeed. And we're all in a lot of danger.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “That child slowed us down,” he said. “Caused us to stop to help her – giving the villagers enough time to figure out we were there and try to chase us down. Either that was an extraordinarily bad piece of timing on our part, or somebody was trying to prey on our weaknesses, to slow us down intentionally, to trick us...”

  “Trick us?” My mouth fell open. “You don't mean...”

  “I'm afraid I do mean, Breena,” said Logan, frowning. “I don't think that girl was a real girl at all. I think she was an illusion, an apparition, sent to confuse us, to slow us down.” He smiled bitterly. “Not that it made much difference to the villagers – they didn't even seem to care that she might have gotten caught in the crossfire. Whatever spell is affecting them is making them completely callous to innocent life. All they care about now is their hatred, their rage, slaking their thirst for blood and revenge. And if it's true that whoever is behind this spell is powerful enough to create an apparition so convincing that we can touch her, hold her....this isn't small fry magic, Breena, I know that much.”

  I shivered. “Could it be pixies again?”

  “Not pixies,” Logan said. “Not wolves.”

  “Clariss?”

  “I doubt it. No, this isn't Clariss' doing. It's not her style. Clariss needs to be front and center – if she were tormenting us, she'd want us to know that it was her doing the tormenting. She wouldn't want to stay in the shadows like this; she'd come out to gloat by now. No, this is something different. Something bigger, more powerful. If I didn't know better, I'd almost guess that....” He fell silent. “No, it can't be. No...”

  “What?”

  “There are rumors,” Logan said slowly. “Just rumors, nothing more. But maybe by now I should start getting used to the fact that rumors, like fairy tales, can be real. The only creatures able to create apparitions like that – true, solid apparitions – aren't fairies. They're not even from Feyland. They're from the Outer Realms, the ancient lands on the border of Feyland, where the White Witch rules over the mountaintops.”

  “The White Witch?”

  “One of the most powerful beings of all time. But she can't be in Feyland – it's impossible!”

  “Why?”

  “She h
asn't been seen in Feyland in centuries. Some say that she was banished – that the White Witch was forbidden from ever entering Feyland, bound by some of the strongest Fey magic. She is unable to enter Feyland uninvited – and the only person who could invite her in is someone who holds all of Feyland's power...”

  “Unless...” The thought came unbidden into my mind, seizing hold of my brain, choking my thoughts.

  “Unless what?” Logan turned to me.

  “Think about it, Logan,” my voice began to tremble. “Who has access to Feyland's power, to the truly great magic?”

  “Only its rulers,” Logan said. “You, your father, and...” He stopped short. “Oh,” he said, his voice growing hollow. “You mean...”

  “He could be in danger, Logan!” I felt the tears come to my eyes. “That dream I had – it felt real, so real. I think he's in trouble, Logan – I just know he is! And if this White Witch got him in her clutches somehow, that could be how she got into Feyland! If she made him let her into Feyland...”

  “Impossible,” Logan said. He put an arm around me, rubbing my back, releasing the tension from my spine. “That's not how invitations work. Nobody can be forced to use their magic like that – the only way the Witch could have gotten in is if Kian invited her in, willingly. So I wouldn't worry if I were you. Whatever magic is happening, I'm sure Kian has nothing to do with it.” He leaned and embraced me, pressing me against his body. I inhaled the musky, delicious scent of him, the intoxicating woodland scent that reminded me of our childhood days, allowing myself to linger in his arms, to savor the slow comforting power of his touch, the way it seemed to take away my pain, even for a little while. I closed my eyes as he tightened his grip on me, savoring our closeness. Logan always had a way of quieting my troubles, of making my pain less sharp, of calming my heart. I breathed out slowly, feeling my body press against his as I exhaled. I leaned my head against his neck, the bristles from his stubble tickling my chin.

  “You're so soft...” his voice was low, urgent, pained. “You have no idea just how soft your skin is.” He let his fingers trace upwards along my palm. It felt so good to have him there, so close, so near. His body comforting me, fitting and forming to mine, the way it always did. And then, all at once, he stopped, standing up abruptly and walking away. “I'm sorry, Breena. I'm so, so, sorry. But I can't.” He swallowed hard. “Not anymore.”

  He turned to me, and I saw upon Logan's face a look of utter agony, of pain that I'd never seen before. His eyes were dark with sadness, black with a sense of loss I'd never seen in them before. His skin had gone pale and sallow; he looked half-shocked, utterly exhausted. And his agony, the pain he suffered, was palpable; I felt it too, without even knowing what it was.

  “What is it?” I whispered, my voice shaking with the effort to remain calm. “Logan, what's going on?”

  He shook his head with a slow, deliberate gesture. “I'm sorry, Breena,” he said, his voice remaining so calm that it was almost a deadpan, as if all his effort were going into stopping his voice from devolving into sobs. “I can't do this anymore,” he said. “I need to be selfish, now – a little selfish. I want so badly to be there for you, to comfort you, to wrap my arms around you when you need help, when you need a friend, to be there for you every moment of every day, to give everything to you. But I can't break my heart like this anymore, Breena. I can't stand this suffering. As much as I wish I could be strong for you – be strong like you, I cannot. I want to be your noble knight, the warrior by your side, the chivalrous knight who, without any hope of being loved in return by the woman he adores, his lady love, nevertheless spends his life serving her. But I can't do that anymore, Breena.”

  “Maybe, deep down, I hoped that once Kian was gone, if I could only just show you that I'd never hurt you, if I could only just convince you that I'd never treat you badly, then, maybe, you'd see that we were meant to be together, you and I. Maybe you'd realize that our hearts should beat as one. But I've done all that. I've been here by your side, shown you that I'll stay even when Kian goes, that you can rely on me even when you can't rely on him. But he's still the one you love, Breena. He's the one you'll love for the rest of eternity. And now I see, for the first time, clearly, that there was never any chance for me.”

  “Logan....I....” I couldn't meet his eyes. I looked down in shame, my cheeks flushing hot. I knew that his words were true, but I could not bring myself to admit just how true they were. “I'm so sorry, Logan....”

  “You never led me on,” he said. “You've been honest with me from the start. But these moments, these moments where I'm touching you, feeling your beautiful, soft skin against mine, feeling your pulsing heartbeat against mine, feeling you, needing you, wanting you...these are moments where I delude myself into thinking that the desire you feel for me – the desire I cannot deny we both feel – is more than a pale shadow of what you feel for Kian. And I can't be celibate forever, being your Knight, waiting on you, hoping on you, wanting you. I need to move on, Breena. I need to find a woman who loves me the way I love you, whom maybe, one day, I can love as I loved you.” He swallowed back his tears. “And that means we need to be careful, Breena. I need to pull back from you, emotionally. I need my space for a while. We need to be friendly – but maybe a little distant, for a while. Until I'm over you. Until we can be best friends again.”

  “But we will be best friends again, right?” My lips trembled. I couldn't bear to think of Logan slipping away – of losing him, too, after I'd lost Kian...

  “I think we will,” said Logan. “Soon. And for as long as this emergency goes on, I'll protect you – of course I will. I will keep you safe. But we can't be....this close. This physical. The way we are now. Not without me feeling the pain of your not loving me so keenly – every day, every moment. I need to make room for my own heart.”

  I couldn't deny that his words had struck a blow. But nor could I deny, either, that he was right. I knew, deep down, that our friendship had become toxic – tempting both of us with desires we could never act upon, dragging others into this emotional mess, hurting Kian, hurting Rose – whose unrequited love for Logan was a secret from nobody except Logan himself, and from poor Alistair, who remained oblivious to the torch she carried, hopelessly, for the Lone Wolf. No, if we got through this alive, we had to change. We had to act fairly, rightly – not only by each other, but by the others in our lives. I had to commit to Kian, once and for all, to stop thinking of Logan as a potential backup, as the road not taken, as the one who had gotten away. And Logan had to commit to moving on, to finding another girl, to being open to the possibility of falling for her. And I had to curb the stupid, irrational, petty jealousy at the thought of the girl that Logan might eventually love.

  “I guess we've got a lot of growing up to do, huh?” I whispered.

  “Yeah,” Logan said. He did not look at me. “I guess so.” He sighed. “By the suns of Feyland, Breena, this is harder than any battle I've ever fought.” He did not take my hand, but I know we both ached for each other's touch.

  “For me, too,” I said, looking away, hiding my tears. “But I understand.”

  “Right.”

  “Right.”

  “Good?”

  “Good.”

  That night we slept on the ground, at a safe and lonely distance from one another. I did not sleep. I kept my eyes on the stars, shivering with the cold, but knowing that Logan's arms would never warm me again.

  And praying that Kian's would.

  Chapter 15

  I spent the night lying awake, staring at the stars, trying to make sense of my emotional state. So much had happened in such a short space of time. A few weeks ago I was happy; I was secure. Everything was fine. I was in love with my fiancé; we had rescued Feyland; we had united Winter and Summer and returned the twin suns to the sky. We had been ready to settle down after a lifetime's worth of misadventures and struggles; we had suffered so much and at last we were ready to claim the happiness, the rest, that had
been eluding us for so long. But what went wrong? I tried to put the pieces together in my head. Had I screwed up – had it been simply that my indecisiveness had transformed my life from a paradise into torment in a matter of days? I'd lost Kian; he had gone I knew not where, to some mysterious land, into dangers that left me reeling with nightmares, to decide whether or not our relationship was worth salvaging from the ashes of his mistrust. I'd lost my crown, my people, the love of all those whom I had given up my future in the mortal world to rule. I'd given up the only home I'd ever known, the only place I'd ever belonged, all my dreams and plans and hopes for the future that I'd grown up with ever since I was a little girl, given up everything familiar to me in order to venture into this brave new world of magic and adventure, to bring peace to this bitterly torn land, rent asunder by strife. I'd given up my dream of becoming a conservation specialist, working in the national parks of the American West. I'd given up so much for Feyland – and now Feyland had given up on me. They no longer wanted me; they no longer loved me. Not just my rule was in jeopardy, if the mob violence was anything to go by; these people wanted my head. I thought of Marie Antoinette, whom I'd read about in AP European History back in high school. The French Queen who, deposed by the people, was decapitated by guillotine in the public square. Would that be my fate, too, if I couldn't win the love of the people back? Would this be how I was remembered – as a capricious, over-ambitious tyrant, who had let her heart run away with her, and who had sacrificed her people in order to focus on her romantic intrigues? That's certainly what they all thought.

  I tried to tell myself that it was just a spell, just a lie, just a vision – that the people who hated me were only doing so because the enchantment had hexed their minds. But deep down, my fears turned my own mind against me. What if their hatred was justified? What if I deserved the chaos that was happening to me; what if I deserved the way that life seemed to be falling down around my ears?