by Kara Jaynes
He didn’t. His eyes turned down in an expression of disappointment.
Isabelle turned away, her fists clenching. She might lose, after all was said and done, but she would go down fighting. She wouldn’t give up after coming this far.
35
“Don’t either of you move until the princess waves,” a Hunter warned Jack and Isabelle. The latter two stood on the field again, about ten feet from each other. Isabelle had picked a short sword, one obviously made for a woman. Or a child, she thought dully.
Jack stared at her. “This is it, Isabelle,” he said. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Then step down,” she snarled. “You know how badly I want this. Why would you do this to me?”
Jack stiffened. “I fight for you,” he said, frustration heating his words. “I fight for our future. This is the only way I can make a difference in this world, Isabelle, a real difference. So I can protect you. Your family. So my mother will—” He stopped midsentence, biting his lip.
Isabelle looked away, unable to meet his gaze for long. She couldn’t deny his reasons were more noble than hers. “I guess we’ll see who wants it more.”
Jack nodded curtly. “I guess so.”
“Prepare yourselves,” the herald called out. The spectators quieted, watching and waiting with baited breath.
Jack moved smoothly into an offensive stance, balancing on the balls of his feet. His eyes narrowed with anticipation.
The princess stood, looking out over the field of combat.
Isabelle took a deep breath, moving into what she hoped was a defensive stance. She decided she would go on the defense until she figured out his fighting strategy. She almost wished the field would change. She could find a way to use the landscape around them. She knew why the king had enchanted the field; he wanted to make sure whoever became the next Hunter was capable of holding their own, regardless of their surroundings. She also knew it wouldn’t change this time. The final test.
The princess waved, the white pennant she held fluttering in the breeze.
“Fight!” the herald shouted.
Jack exploded into action, catapulting himself at Isabelle. She barely had time to bring her sword up to meet his a moment before they clashed.
Isabelle cried out, staggering under the impact. She’d never had to fight Jack before, and only now realized her mistake.
His physical strength was devastating. She stumbled, almost falling under his attack.
He leaped back for a moment, taking a split second to jab at her left side. Isabelle deflected it, trying to push back. It was like trying to push a brick wall. Jack shifted his attack, and Isabelle parried it. With a massive heave she was able to push him away, but only for a moment before he returned the attack, sword hacking and slashing. It seemed to be everywhere at once. Her breath began to come in painful gasps and her limbs shook.
His sword touched her arm, and bright blue dye smeared across her sleeve. A gasp rose from the crowd.
One strike. He only needed to get two more non-vital strikes and she’d be out.
He lunged to the right, and she brought her sword up, trying to block it.
It was a trick. He switched his sword to his other hand and flicked it across her wrist, splattering more blue dye. The crowd yelled and cheered.
It was too much. Isabelle shot her leg out, hooking it behind his and yanked.
She was trying to trip him, but she wasn’t strong enough, instead causing them to both fall on the ground, Jack on top of her.
He lifted his sword and Isabelle had to drop her weapon, grappling with his sword arm. His blade was inches from her face, and dipping closer.
Jack’s pale face was flushed from exertion, but looking down at her, Isabelle could see tears in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Isabelle,” he choked. “I’m sorry.” He put more pressure on her arms, and the sword came closer.
And Isabelle knew what to do. Putting all her strength into pushing his sword arm away from her, she lifted her head, her mouth meeting his with a kiss.
With an intake of breath, Jack’s body stiffened, then his sword clattered to the ground as he wrapped his arms around her, kissing her back.
He pressed himself against her body, one of his hands caressing her neck as it moved to tangle in her hair. He pulled his mouth away to gasp, “I love you,” then kissed her again fiercely. His teeth grazed her lower lip; he tasted like spice.
Isabelle threw an arm out, grappling for her sword. Her fingers brushed the hilt and, pulling it to her, pushed him off her.
Jack didn’t have time to react before Isabelle grabbed him by the shirt collar and swiped her sword across his chest. Blue dye blossomed across his shirt.
“I win!” Isabelle scrambled to her feet, holding her sword high. She wouldn’t look at him. She wouldn’t look. He’d be fine. She earned this. “I win! I’m the next Fabled Hunter!”
The crowd exploded into a plethora of noise, approval raining down on her. “Isa-belle! Isa-belle! Isa-belle!”
Isabelle turned toward the king who stood, clapping his hands furiously, a broad grin on his dark face. His daughter stared at Isabelle, her expression a mixture of surprise, disgust, and horror.
Isabelle sneered and looked away from her. What did she know, anyway?
Isabelle risked a glance over her shoulder. Jack still sat on ground, his face turned toward her, a mask of disappointment and shock. A few tears had tracked down his cheeks, smearing dust.
The king came to Isabelle, clapping an arm around her shoulder. “That was absolutely brilliant, Isabelle, brilliant! Using the art of seduction, eh? You knew you weren’t going to win by sheer brawn alone, and improvised. Excellent work. That kind of cleverness and resourcefulness is exactly what I’m looking for in my Fabled Hunters.” He ignored Jack completely.
“Everyone,” the king bellowed, holding Isabelle’s arm up to the sky. “Isabelle Aryn. Our newest Fabled Hunter!”
Isabelle thought her ears would crack from the cheers, whoops, yells, and whistles that followed. Everyone loved her. Everyone adored her. She felt a wide grin spread across her face as she realized what had happened. She’d done it. She’d won.
Tyro and Aviina came running up to her. Tyro was grinning ear to ear, and even Aviina had a small smile on her face. “Come with us,” she said. “We can show you your new quarters and where you will be spending most of your time while living here.”
Isabelle began to follow them, but stopped. She couldn’t just leave him without saying a word.
Jack had stood, keeping his head down as he casually brushed dust Isabelle couldn’t see off his trousers. He was hiding his pain.
“Jack,” she said, but he flung a hand out toward her, silencing her.
“Save your breath,” he said, his voice expressionless. “You don’t have to explain anything to me.”
“Jack, you were going to do the same thing to me.”
“No.” His voice cracked and Jack lifted his head, looking down at her. Isabelle inwardly cringed away from his gaze. It held raw pain and pure, unadulterated rage. “My kiss wasn’t a lie. I didn’t lie to you, Isabelle. I showed you my soul, my desire, and you turned it around and used it against me.”
“Jack, wait,” Isabelle said, but he wouldn’t listen.
“No, Isabelle.” His face crumpled, tears of frustration springing to his eyes. “If I ever see you again, it will be too soon.” He turned and walked away, shouldering his way roughly through the crowd.
“Jack!” She took one step in his direction then stopped, lowering her outstretched hand. She turned and saw Aviina watching her.
“You ready to go?” the tiny woman asked. “We should leave before the crowd gets too crazy.”
Isabelle nodded, and ignoring the stab of guilt she felt, followed Aviina to what would be her new home.
36
The festivities lasted the remainder of the week. Isabelle attended several parties and banquets. She was adored, looked up to. Even the femal
e nobility began having red cloaks made to mimic the one her mother had sewn for her. She had money, power, and position. A letter was sent off to her parents, informing them of their change in fortune. Mother and Father would never have to work another day in their lives.
Isabelle finally found a moment to herself, escaping the confines of the palace, and stood in the courtyard outside the training halls. She took a deep breath; it smelled like rain would fall. She ran a hand through her hair.
What’s the matter with me?
She’d won. She had power and position. She’d never have to weave. Her family’s future was secure.
But I’m sad. She felt tears build on her lashes and she angrily wiped them away. Why?
“Hey.” Isabelle turned toward the voice and saw Aviina standing under the eaves of the halls, watching her. She jerked her head toward the training hall’s great double doors. “Come on, let’s go work out. After all these festivities and food, we gotta crack down on your training.” She frowned, peering closer at Isabelle. “You okay?”
Isabelle gave her a fake smile. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just needed to get some fresh air. Training sounds great.”
Aviina nodded and entered the training hall, leaving Isabelle alone again.
Isabelle thought about Jack, remembering the feel and taste of his mouth on hers, the way his body curled protectively around her. He loved her, and she’d thrown it back in his face.
No! It was all in the past. Isabelle took a deep breath. He’d be fine. She did what she had to.
“Isabelle?” She turned at the sound of her name and saw Tyro walking up with the scar-faced Fabled Hunter. She’d learned his name earlier. Erik.
“Excellent,” Tyro said. “We’re going to be practicing swordplay and working on our endurance. I’d thought you were still at the parties.” He lowered his voice confidentially. “They seem exciting initially, but I’ll let you in on a little secret. Parties are a pain in the rear.”
Isabelle smiled. “I think I’m figuring that out.” She followed the two Fabled Hunters inside, but paused in the doorway. She could feel unseen eyes on her, but when she turned to look, no one was there. “Hello?” she said hesitantly, her eyes searching the courtyard.
Nothing.
Isabelle hesitated then walked inside. What was done was done. She’d made her choice.
She was a Fabled Hunter.
Jack
I trip, falling face first into the forest’s undergrowth, exhausted. I’ve been running for days, trying to outrun my past. My shame, my humiliation.
I am alone. Unwanted.
Hated.
I clench my fists, trying to conceal my anger, my agony. No one must know my pain. No one would understand.
Isabelle.
A shudder of rage and grief rips through me and I try to block her face from my mind. For one brief moment in my life, I’d thought she loved me. That someone loved me.
I was wrong.
She used me. I was an obstacle and she twisted me for her convenience.
I crouch under the boughs of an immense tree, hugging my knees, head down. What will I do? Where will I go? I put everything I have, everything I am, into becoming a Hunter. Into winning her love. But it wasn’t enough.
Jack…
I lift my head, wiping tears hurriedly from my face. Did I hear my name?
No. Just the wind. I shiver, wrapping my arms around myself. It feels suddenly cold, cold as winter. Cold as ice.
“Jack.”
There’s no mistaking it this time. I lift my head, looking up into cold, gray eyes.
A woman stands before me. She is young, doesn't look much older than me. Her hair is dark blonde, put up in an intricate coil. Small tendrils have escaped, hanging down delicately on either side of her pale white face.
She is clad in white, the hem of her dress covering her feet. The sleeves go to her wrists, the neckline concealing her throat. Silver embroidery runs down her bodice in an intricate design.
She is beautiful, almost as beautiful as Isabelle.
No. I try to push thoughts of her away. Isabelle must mean nothing to me now. She’s still everything to me, but I must change that. I must try.
The woman smiles at me with blood red lips, and the wind picks up, hammering me with the chill.
“Jack,” she says again. “That’s a very bad curse you have.” Her voice is deeper than I expected, but real. She’s real.
I watch her, my jaw tight with tension. How does she know? I’ve never told anyone, not even Isabelle.
“How long have you had it?” she asks.
“Years.” It comes out a whisper.
Her smile deepens. “I can see it in your eyes. Crouching in your mind like a chained beast, watching, waiting, lashing out at the most inconvenient of times.” She laughs delightedly. “It’s one of those fool curses. Looks like you haven’t received ‘true love’s first kiss.’ Poor Jack.” She looks at me with feigned pity.
I look away. I don’t want sympathy, real or false.
“I’ve been waiting a long time for a loyal servant. I think you will do nicely.” She bends down, reaching her hand out and I instinctively flinch away. She pauses.
“What are you talking about?” I say. “I serve no one.” Anger flares within me, raw and hot, a struggle to control. My curse.
The woman laughs again. It’s deep and sultry, putting me on edge.
“Not even if I give you what you want?”
“What do I want?”
Her eyes narrow. I feel like a rabbit being watched by a fox. “You want to be remembered. You want power.” Her voice drops to a whisper. “But more than anything, you want revenge.”
My body stiffens. She is right. Isabelle humiliated me in front of everyone, in the heart of the kingdom. I was made a laughing stock. My curse stirs again. “I’m listening,” I reply.
“Serve me, and I can promise you all three things.” She eyes me, her gaze filled with calculation. “I can’t lift your curse, but I can make it stronger. You’ll be unstoppable.”
I feel power radiating from her like the throbbing cold that surrounds me. She speaks the truth. Do I have a choice? Isabelle has taken everything from me. I can’t fall any further. I can only go up.
I nod. “Very well. What is the name of the mistress I serve?”
The woman laughs again. She reaches out her hand, fingertips touching my chest over my heart.
Cold. Pain. Ice. I scream, arching my back in agony. The pain is all consuming. I try to run, but my limbs won’t work. My body convulses. I feel like I am going to die.
Then she moves her hand away and the pain lifts. I sob with relief, laying in a pathetic huddle at her feet. I still feel cold, but in comparison to the pain, I think I can bear it.
Rearranging her skirts, the woman stands, looking down at me. Gone are the smiles. Her eyes are filled with icy calculation. “My name is Glacia. Go. Be my herald. Destroy Isabelle. Destroy Illyminatym. Freeze the Four Provinces. The cold is coming. Endless winter. Endless night. Not even Silvan can stop me now. Go!”
I stand and hastily bow, then turn and run. I am fast. Strong. It’s supposed to be summer, but I can feel the cold and the frost seeping into me, giving me strength. Power.
I laugh with exhilaration as I bound through the forest, the trees shuddering from the frost in my wake.
I am ice. I am rage. I am power.
I am Jack Frost.
The Fabled Hunters Trilogy continues in book two, Deception.
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About the Author
Kara Jaynes is a fantasy and children's book author. She loves reading, long walks and rain. She's been writing since she was very young and has more stories in her head than she could possibly write.
Please visit the author's website for more information on upcoming books and news.
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Fabled by Kara Jaynes
Copyright Kara Jaynes 2016.
All Rig
hts Reserved.
Photographer: Christy Casperson
Cover Designer: Aeternum Designs
The stories, characters, and incidents mentioned or depicted in this publication are entirely fictional.
No portion of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission from the copyright holder.
