Frost Fire (Frost Series #6)

by Kailin Gow

  She shuddered as she looked up at her brother. “Logan,” she whispered.

  “Logan? What about…” And then it hit Rodney, too, moments before it hit the rest of them. Logan was gone.

  Chapter 11

  “Grandfather” Logan whispered, his shoulders shaking with sadness. He knew how disappointed his grandfather was in him – he could feel it in his sinews, in his bones. The animal instinct in him wanted only to howl in agony. He had let his family down – his grandfather who had died for peace, his relatives and cousins who relied on him to take care of the Wolves. He knew it, and he was ashamed. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He had let himself love Breena, love a woman who would never truly love him the same way in return, and he had shamed…

  But no! Something in Logan, something proud and lupine, reared up within him. How could he be ashamed of loving Breena? How could he be ashamed of following her – when he was willing to stand up and roar to all the doubting world that she was the bravest, most courageous, most trustworthy warrior Feyland had seen in decades? He had done the right thing by entering the war – not only for Breena, but for all of Feyland.

  “I cannot be ashamed of my actions,” said Logan, staring down his grandfather. “I did what I thought was right and noble and true. You can fault my judgment, grandfather, but you cannot fault my bravery. I followed my instincts to the bitter end.”

  “You fool!” his grandfather snarled. “You think those were instincts? Those were only human weaknesses.”

  “It was love that saved us!” Logan insisted, his eyes blazing. “It was love that cast out the Dark Hordes. Love that allowed all of Feyland to unite even when things seemed most dire. I will never apologize for that.”

  “You won’t?” A feminine laugh tinkled just out of view.

  “Breena?” Logan whispered, his heart pounding in his chest.

  But it wasn’t Breena’s voice. It was higher-pitched, sweeter – like treacle. A regal voice, a familiar one, even a beautiful one. One that struck him to his core. He had heard this voice before – but where? In a dream? His mind flashed back to the many nights he had spent on the hard, cold floor of Delano’s dungeon in the kingdom of the Pixies. Then he had dreamed of Connell, the first Red Wolf, dreamed of the mysterious woman who had given Connell the power of the Wolf, and taken from the Wolf race the magic of his Fey kind. The Queen Panthea, bearer of the most ancient magic. A Queen who had been able to strip the immortality from the Wolf Fey like flesh from a bone. Stripped the fey magic out of the wolf fey so their blood no longer bled silver but red.

  He had only dreamed of her before. But now she was before him, gleaming. Her face was ageless – at once beautiful and terrible. Her hair was long and shimmered in the golden glow of the room. She was leading him somewhere – to another room, another corridor. Logan instinctively followed.

  “So, Connell has chosen you then, has he? To be his Champion? Ha!” She scoffed. “You don’t even have an ounce of magic in you. And he thinks you’re capable of leading your people to find immortality, to restoring them again to the Full Fey? Please – you must be joking!”

  Logan was stung, but he stood his ground. “You trusted Connell to become the Red Wolf once, many centuries ago,” he said gravely. “Now you must trust his decision. Connell chose me to replace him. He chose me as the next Red Wolf. I will not show myself unworthy.”

  “But you are unworthy, Wolf!”

  “I helped the Midnight Knight and Breena bring about an end to the War between Winter and Summer. I was able to push the Dark Hordes back into the Gorge and save Feyland – all in the name of the Red Wolf. Your Majesty, I have served that name well, and served well its bearer before me. Connell has made his choice, and my deeds have testified to my worth. In my trials – Delano’s dungeons, the War – I have not been found wanting.” Logan’s voice shook, but it grew stronger as he went on. “I know that I am worthy to stand strong as the Champion of the people, ready to lead my people back to their status as Full Fey. I have their confidence. I have the confidence of the Emperor of the United Feyland, King of Winter, Kian, and of Breena, the Empress…”

  “Breena!” The voice of Queen Panthea let loose a shrill, mocking laugh, dripping with poisonous venom. “You think you have her confidence, do you? How could you – when she has chosen another in her heart?”

  “I…” But Logan faltered. His throat suddenly felt dry, and no words emerged from the tightness in his mouth. He hesitated only for a moment, but it was time enough to betray his fears.

  “Ah, I see, Logan. So you too have your doubts about that.”

  Queen Panthea let loose another laugh, the shadowy blur around her shaking with the force of her laughter.

  “No!” Logan cried. He remembered what Breena had told him – what she had said. The darkness of the Dead would try to trap him, would try to get inside his head, collapse his insecurities into one heaving force of terror and pain – she had made him promise not to let that happen. She had made him promise to be strong. She had made him promise.

  He whispered to himself the words he struggled to remember – she couldn’t marry him, not because she didn’t love him, but because her bond with Kian, established in childhood, was too great – a bond of magic…something he couldn’t understand.

  But he could understand it! He had felt it with her – felt that bond – and she…she had felt it with another. No, she cared for Logan, but in the end she would not wake in the night screaming his name, not dream of him and reach out her slumbering arms into empty air, imagining his presence.

  No, he did all that for her. He felt this way about her. But she never felt that for him.

  Don’t let it in, Logan, he told himself, closing his eyes against the memories that flooded in – Breena’s face, Breena’s voice, her happiness when Kian’s lips were on hers…

  “Queen Panthea!” Logan stared her down, struggling to choke down his fear and worry. “I have heard tell that you are Feyland’s protector. A good fairy. One who helped our kind. What mean you by trying to harm us now?”

  “Protector – ha!” Panthea laughed again. “That fool Connell never understood quite how cursed he was, did he? I never swore to protect Feyland or the Wolves! I had my own ends – and Connell was willing to make a bargain with me when I had what he needed. That was all. My magic is greater than Feyland’s magic – wider. It was an exchange. You Wolves got your powers of metamorphosis – but I got something greater in that trade. Your immortalities. Thousands and thousands of wolves’ immortality – all mine! You fools. You pawns! Never dreamed how much I longed to harness that power. You know what it’s like, Logan, don’t you? Deep within the core of Feyland, without the light of the sun to ward it off, lies Feyland’s true power. The power of darkness. “Let me tell you, I embody the darkness. I am the darkness – the power that stems from harnessing all that is cruel and wicked in the world. But do not think I am not one of you – for you, too, like all creatures of Feyland, have that darkness. Waiting to be harnessed. Waiting to be embraced. Waiting to hear my siren call…”

  “You are no creature of Feyland!” Logan cried. “How can you say that – Feyland is a place where good has always triumphed over evil! I don’t believe you’re using Feyland’s magic at all. Our magic is good and pure!”

  “The myths and stories have always painted me as coming from Feyland.” Panthea raised an eyebrow. “But who trusts myths and stories? Perhaps they are wrong. Perhaps I am from some other place…who knows?” Her smile grew crueller.

  “Then why did you help us?” Logan’s voice was shaking. “Why did you make us think we could trust you? You helped Connell, didn’t you? He drove back the darkness the first time.”

  “Ah, yes, that.” Panthea nodded. “I remember now. It gave me such great pleasure, in the end. Watching as I transformed the trusting Fey into bestial animals – little better than humans. They lost all their power, their honor. They let their weak animal wants take over. You see that in
your own self, don’t you, Logan? You aren’t as powerful, nor as beautiful as a full-fledged Fey? After all, Breena chose the beautiful fey prince Kian over you, didn’t she? And no wonder! You have always been a half-breed, a mongrel, trapped between two worlds, belonging in neither.”

  Logan felt his chest tightening, a gradual agony that made him want to scream. He knew in his rational mind that Panthea’s words were false, that she was trying to manipulate him, to use him…yet it didn’t matter. Somewhere, in some deep bestial part of himself, he felt that the words she was saying were true. He was just a foolish Wolf, neither beautiful nor powerful enough to be a Fey nor enough of an animal Wolf to forget this all-too-human love he had for Breena. How he wished these Dark Forces of Feyland carried knives rather than words! He would have rather suffered a thousand stabbings than listen to these horrifying words any longer!

  “Come on, then, fool!” Logan stumbled back as Panthea struck him with the hilt of her sword. He crumpled to his knees, not caring, not feeling it, as she thrust him down upon his back.

  “Weak wolf,” Panthea said softly. “You let your love control you. It has weakened you now, made you useless. You will never lead your people to immortality. You will never bring back the Twin Suns of Feyland! You will fail all of Feyland, and all of Feyland, all of the Wolves, and Breena herself – they will all know it. They will know it before they die…”

  “No!” Logan cried, tears pouring down his cheeks.

  “No!” Another voice echoed him. It was Rose, running into the room, her cheeks bright pink with energy. “Let him go.” She raised her wand high and pointed it straight at the spirit, words Logan did not understand escaping from her lips.

  Instantly yellow, viscous liquid appeared on the spirit’s mouth, sticking it shut. Silenced, the spirit began to flicker – its shadow-form seeming to darken the Panthea-image within.

  “Logan!” Rose ran over to him.

  “Rose?” Logan was still disoriented from Panthea’s words. “What are you doing here?”

  Chapter 12

  Rose instinctively gathered Logan into her arms, stroking his shoulders as she comforted him. She was surprised at her own strength. The spell she had cast had been a childish one – a simple spell she had learned on her first day of the alchemy apprenticeship: a prank that caused honey-thick molasses to appear on its intended’s lips, sticking them shut. She wasn’t sure why that spell, of all the ones she knew, had come to her now; nevertheless, she was grateful for its efficacy. But she had bigger problems to worry about. Logan – great, strong, brave Logan – was shaking in horror. Rose knew that whatever the apparition had said had cut him to the quick. She had never seen such pain in his eyes before now, and her heart ached with compassion for him. How she longed to comfort him, to make him forget all that he had suffered! How she longed to stroke his hair, to kiss his forehead…

  She stopped herself before her thoughts grew too painful. “Look, Logan,” she whispered, “I know what you’re going through. I could feel it – I can feel it now. Whatever you’re experiencing, I feel it too. I don’t know why. I don’t know how. But it’s there. And whatever spirit’s been talking to you, it’s not your Grandfather. It’s not this Queen…”

  “How did you…?” Logan’s eyes opened wide.

  “It’s a dark spirit,” said Rose, “posing as these people – the people closest to you. It took the form of Redleaf and of Shasta’s mother. It lies to you, it tricks you. But it isn’t real. You have to believe it isn’t real.”

  “But you knew about Panthea!”

  Rose turned pink. “Remember that day at the Winter Palace, when I read that passage about the prophecy of the Twin Suns?”

  Logan nodded mutely.

  “Ever since that day…I don’t know what it means, or why it’s happening, but we’ve started to be tied together in some way. Maybe it’s because of the quest. Maybe it’s because I have been a Harvester fairy or because I have an affinity to communicate with certain fey creatures in Feyland. I don’t know. I’ve been able to feel what you’re feeling. To sense what’s going on in your head. Telepathically. Not on purpose,” Rose quickly added, “it’s just been happening to me, that’s all. Maybe it’s time for you to have someone who can understand you. Who can be there for you. You do it so much for Bree…for others…” Rose corrected herself quickly, “maybe it’s time for someone to do it for you.”

  Logan looked up, astonished. But his quizzical glance soon faded into a kindly, warm smile, a smile that made Rose’s heart leap in her chest. He took Rose’s hand, and she could feel her whole body seem to melt into his warmth. “Thank you, Rose,” he said quietly. “I guess, going through all this, I could use a friend.”

  Rose couldn’t help but feel a twinge of disappointment. Friend? Was that the word Logan wanted to use? She shook her head. Well, what did she expect – Logan’s heart, after all, belonged to his Queen, to his Breena? No matter who Logan ended up with, wouldn’t his heart always belong first and foremost to the woman who could never be his? No matter what – even if Rose managed to convince him, even if…it would never, she knew, be enough.

  They were distracted by the furious roar of Queen Panthea. The spell had worn off, and now Panthea’s mouth was free once more.

  “Come on, then, fool!” Panthea cried. “Come take your punishment at the hands of your commander. You should be used to doing the bidding of Queens by now!”

  “No, Logan!” Rose cried. “Listen to me – you have to fight back! Don’t listen to anything that that…creature says to you! You’re listening to the Dark Forces themselves, a magic that can’t be reasoned with. You can only defeat her by refusing her power. Tear her out with your mind. With your heart. Don’t listen to her, Logan.”

  “Insolent fool!” Panthea cried.

  “We’re behind you…all of us. Rodney, Shasta, Alistair. Me!” Rose squeezed Logan’s hand. “Breena’s Champion. Feyland’s Champion. Close your ears – just fight.”

  Logan raised his sword high in the air, a new passion burning in his eyes. He slashed the shadow again and again, his jaw set as he focused on defeating the darkness within him. Soon Panthea herself had vanished: Logan was fighting instead a dark, spreading shadow.

  But as he was poised to strike the killing blow, the shadow took a new form – one that made Rose gasp in terror.

  The shadow was Logan himself.

  A voice rose from the depths. “Nobody is stronger than himself,” it said, speaking with Logan’s voice. “Especially a man so ruled by his animal side as you are, Logan. Mark my words, I will return as before.”

  Logan closed his eyes as he slashed down one more time, and the shadow vanished.

  Logan looked up cautiously at Rose, breathless with exhaustion. Rose instinctively tried to read his thoughts, as she had done before, but this time she heard nothing. It was as if she were trying to read a blank parchment. Had Logan put up some sort of guard against her? She flushed crimson with embarrassment.

  Curses, Rose couldn’t help muttering. Of course she had to go and tell the man who made her weak at the knees that she had the power to read his mind. If he didn’t think she was some sort of crazed stalker before, he certainly would do now! But to Rose’s surprise and relief, Logan didn’t seem particularly fazed by Rose, nor did he look as if he thought anything of the kind about her. He walked over and put a friendly – just friendly! Rose thought bitterly – hand on her shoulder. She closed her eyes, revelling in his closeness, in the bittersweet smell of his musk. She ached for his closeness. She looked up into his dark, brooding eyes – how tall and strong he was! Certainly half a head above Rodney or Alistair! – and wished that the longing she saw reflected in them could be, if just for a moment, for her.

  “Looks like we won this battle,” said Logan with a jovial grin. “Now there will be plenty more like that where that one came from.” He tried to laugh off his tears. “Now we’ll be ready for the next one. Don’t get lazy, eh, Rose?” He looked around. �
�Where are the others?” He squeezed Rose’s hand. “I’m glad you’re safe.”

  Rose led Logan back through the corridor to the others. Rodney and Shasta were curled up together, comforting each other. Both Rodney and Shasta had tears running down their cheeks; Rose knew that it would be a while before either truly recovered from the images they had seen. It took great emotions, hidden or known, for the Dark Forces to manifest itself into the ghostly images of loved ones. Alistair was sitting alone, absorbed in a book. Rose took a look closer. It wasn’t one of the books she recognized; they had brought as many as they could carry from the Summer Court Library, and Rose had already devoured all of them on their journey in the hopes of finding something – anything – that could help them. This was a smaller book, with a worn cover of black leather, and thick yellow pages that looked, Rose thought, sickeningly like fey or human skin.

  Rose and Logan approached.

  “Looks like my kid sister managed to pull off saving you, friend!” Rodney winked at Logan. “I knew you were his knight in shining armor, Rose.”