Shadow and Ice

by Gena Showalter

  “I don’t think you’re supposed to announce the methods you’re using to manipulate me.” But it was kind of adorable.

  Adorable? The frown returned.

  “I wasn’t trying to kill you earlier,” she said. “I only wanted to wound you.”

  “And then what, hmm?” He patted her down, checking for weapons.

  She leaned into his touch, as if desperate for his warmth. “I was going to tie you up, then figure out how to escape.”

  “Tie up an enemy. Excellent idea.” He scooped her into his arms.

  No protests. She rested her head on his shoulder.

  Either she was in shock, too weak to fight, or some part of her liked some part of him...

  His chest clenched. He laid her on the bed and gently bound her wrists with tree vines. He had chains hidden in the closet, thin metal links she couldn’t cut through or break, hands down the better choice, but he couldn’t bring himself to use them and mar her skin.

  “Is this truly necessary?” she asked. “I learned my lesson, honest. Swords are dangerous, and we shouldn’t play with them.”

  He tilted his head and narrowed his gaze, giving her the same look he’d often given his targets. An expression known as “the death stare.” “You can remain tied, or I can kill you. Lady’s choice.”

  Silence, the wheels in her head clearly turning. She actually needed to think about this?

  Then she sighed. “Tied it is. For now. But I reserve the right to revisit my decision at a later date.”

  “Too bad, so sad,” he said, using her own words against her. “While we’re together, I reserve the right to make your decisions for you.”

  “Oh, good. I’m so glad you understand,” she continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “Because of the time you spent trapped in ice, you know the horrors of forced confinement, and you don’t want me to suffer the same fate. That’s so kind and sensitive of you. Thank you.”

  Trying to kindle his sympathies? She needed to accept the truth: he had no sympathies.

  To prove it, he tightened the vines. When she flinched, he experienced another clench in his chest, but he didn’t loosen the bonds.

  “This is probably for the best, anyway. There’s a war raging inside my head.” The skin around her siren’s mouth pulled taut as she squeezed her eyes closed. Sweat beaded on her brow, trickled down her temples.

  “Tell me what you see and feel, courtesy of Celeste.”

  “Hatred...determination...must kill...don’t want to kill.”

  He debated the wisdom of explaining what he thought had happened versus letting her figure things out on her own.

  Would ignorance make her less of a threat, or more of one?

  “You were right,” he said. “Celeste and Gunnar were lovers. Did he happen to tell her about his sword? Any special powers it possessed.” He tried to sound nonchalant, but he failed miserably.

  “Sword...no. Sorry.”

  Truth or lie? He popped his jaw but said, “All right, let’s get you patched up.” The clenching in his chest only worsened as he gathered medical supplies. By the time he returned to the bed, he was surprised his heart hadn’t exploded.

  He wasn’t the only one who’d deteriorated. Vale watched him, her hazel eyes glazed with agony.

  “Are you just going to stand there?” she snapped. Anyone else would have cursed his existence or begged for clemency. Not his Vale. “You said you’d patch me up, so fricking patch me up.”

  “When in pain, you put the beasts of Adwaeweth to shame. Noted.”

  If she had a prim and proper side, Knox had seen no real evidence of it. And he was glad.

  Why did her waspishness appeal to him? Why did anything about her appeal to him? He had no use for her, or anyone. Necessary? Hardly. She was baggage he didn’t want to carry. Beautiful baggage, yes, but a burden all the same.

  She was going to be a major target. Killing her here would be a mercy.

  {Protect.}

  Fine. Twist my arm. You’ve convinced me.

  Perched at Vale’s side, Knox got to work. He cut away her shirt and studied her wound more closely. It wasn’t as healed as he’d thought, the center cut so deep he could see bone. Only the edges had scabbed over. Blood smeared the rest of her torso and stained the lovely roses tattooed on her stomach.

  Motions stiff, he cleaned her up and applied a numbing salve.

  “Do I need stitches?” she asked.

  “Probably,” he said, but wrapped a bandage around her shoulder, anyway. “Your skin would only grow over the threads, and I’d have to cut them out.”

  “No stitches. Good call.” She batted her lashes at him, all innocence. “Gift me with another shirt?”

  “You can have a second one when we’re certain you won’t bleed through it.”

  “Another good call. I just wish—” She gasped. Groaned. “Make it stop, Knox, pleeease make it stop.”

  He gripped her chin. “Focus on me, valina.” The endearment slipped out unbidden, confusing him, but the reasons weren’t worth dissecting right now. “Despite your turmoil and pain, you have much to celebrate. When you killed Celeste, you gained more than her memories. You are now immortal.”

  At “killed Celeste,” she flinched. Her moral compass had taken a major hit, and it would soon take another, and another, until it shattered beyond repair. “I’m immortal, just like you?”

  “Exactly. You can die only by the removal of your head or heart, or the burning of your body to ash.”

  “Immortal,” she repeated hollowly.

  “Memory transfer isn’t something that happens when we make kills. That’s specific to you. Tell me what you see and leave out no details.”

  “Sisters...family, love. Maybe I can save them? There has to be a way.”

  “There isn’t.”

  “Maybe—”

  “You think the rest of us haven’t tried to save the people we love?”

  Vale sniffled, the sound both pitiful and gut wrenching.

  Harden your heart.

  Knox had done terrible things to save his daughter. Ultimately, only one of those things had mattered—winning.

  Every millisecond of All War #2, three “if’s” had run through his head.

  —If he died.

  —If Minka was under the age eighteen when he died.

  —If she was considered an adult when he died.

  As a child, she would have been handed over to the High Council to train as an Enforcer. As an adult, she would have been rebranded as a candidate for death—if she hadn’t run away from her temporary family.

  But in the end, she’d suffered and died, anyway.

  I should have returned to a happy adult, delighted to see me again. Instead—

  Inhale, exhale. Good, that was good. He was breathing. Blank your mind. Feel nothing.

  “Uh-oh. You’re dealing with emotion sickness right now. I can tell.” Vale gave a crazed laugh, as if amused, disgusted, and ready to sob all at once. “Just...forget about yourself for a sec. I don’t understand any of this. Break it down for me toddler-style. Please and thank you.”

  He massaged the back of his neck. “When a new realm is discovered, leaders of thirty-nine established realms hope to claim it as their own. More land means more resources, and more citizens to use as slaves or payment. To prevent a large-scale war and thereby the destruction of these newly discovered territories, the High Council was created. They organize the All Wars, in which a king or queen sends a single representative to fight on their behalf. Winner gets the realm. Losers die. Sometimes, multiple All Wars rage at once, in different realms. Sometimes, centuries pass before a new realm is discovered.”

  “All War. High Council,” she echoed, her voice seeming hollowed out by a blade. “You’re here to fight for control of Earth. Not with an army, but w
ith a contest.”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re war whores.” Her frown deepened. “This is...this is my origin story. Since the hero of every tale saves the day, I’m guaranteed victory. Unless I’m the villain.”

  Her nonsense was adorable.

  Inner slap. There was that word again.

  Paling, she added, “I beheaded someone. I must be a villain.”

  “You are a survivor, Vale. Just like the rest of us.”

  He doubted his words penetrated her dark haze, so he tried again. “Kings and queens mark a representative’s loved ones to use as incentive. If the combatant wins, their loved ones are saved. If the combatant loses, their loved ones are killed or given to the High Council, depending on their age. The moment Celeste died, her queen knew. We all have transmitters.” He held up his hand, tapped his index finger, then pointed to the tree of life on his shoulder. “One is for our ruler, one is for the High Council. Both are active and die with us. If Celeste’s queen is like my king, every member of her family was executed within minutes of her death. It’s a common practice to prove to future combatants that failure has consequences. No mercy, ever.”

  Tears wet Vale’s lashes, then spilled down her cheeks. “When I killed Celeste, I condemned her sisters. Meaning my death tally now stands at five.”

  The sight of her unchecked vulnerability ripped Knox’s insides to shreds.

  “Will my loved ones be marked for death?” she croaked.

  “Your leaders know nothing about the war. Yet.”

  “Yes or no?” she insisted.

  “No.”

  A measure of her tension evaporated. “How many loved ones await your victory?”

  Now those shreds caught fire. “None.” He shoved the word past a barbed lump in his throat. “I had a single loved one, but she died soon after I was forced to leave my home to fight for ownership of another.”

  Her features softened, and she said, “I’m sorry, Knox.”

  Compassion for the man who’d abducted her and tied her up? A trick, surely.

  “I know how it feels to lose family,” she said, her voice as soft as her expression.

  “Yes, but you’ve always had your sister to—”

  “Not always. We aren’t blood related. I was alone for years before I met her. She’s my only friend, my saving grace. My SWAT. Special Wingwoman And Therapist.”

  And he had separated the two. Rip, burn.

  Her brows knit together, a crease forming above her nose. “If you aren’t fighting to save family, why are you fighting?”

  Admit he was a slave, compelled to obey his king’s every command? No. Pride demanded he hold on to that gem a little while longer. “What other memories do you see?”

  She allowed the subject change without complaint. “Mostly I see the brutal way you killed Gunnar, my protector.” Gasp. “You were going to kill me, too.”

  “You mean Celeste’s protector. I was going to kill Celeste.” Did the distinction really matter? One day, he would kill Vale, too.

  Her eyes glimmered with revulsion. “You tried to stab her in the throat. When that failed, you tried to choke her.”

  “I did.” And he wouldn’t feel guilty about it. Victory equaled freedom.

  She gave a violent shake of her head and mumbled, “So many memories and feelings. I’m losing track of what’s real and what isn’t.”

  “Here is what’s real. When you decapitated Celeste, you joined the All War. You are a combatant now. A Terran representative.” The second one, in fact. “You must fight twenty other warriors to the death.”

  Blink, blink. “Joined the... No. Nope. Absolutely not. Not me. I refuse.”

  “Refusal doesn’t negate reality, Vale. It’s done. Anyone who kills a combatant is automatically added to the roster.”

  “No.”

  “There are few rules, and there will be only one survivor. He will gain control of Earth on behalf of his sovereign.”

  “No,” she repeated, shaking her head. “I wish you guys all the best with your homicides, but I forfeit. I’m returning to my old life.”

  He went still. “There is a way to forfeit.”

  “Tell me!”

  “You must carve the Mark of Disgrace in your forehead, present yourself to the Terran Enforcer named Seven, and forever live with the knowledge that you failed your people.”

  Any hope she’d garnered now withered. Still, she said, “I don’t care about failing my people. Everyone sucks. We’ve turned this world into a steaming trash factory.”

  “Take the mark, then. Allow another realm to win your trash factory, placing your sister’s fate in the hands of another species.” What are you doing? Cease! If she wanted to exit the war, he should encourage her, not talk her out of it.

  “First of all, we might be better off in the hands of another species. What do I know? And second, we have a kick-A military squad. Good luck taking us over.”

  “Your people will bow to the new king, this I promise you. They’ll have no choice. As part of the victor’s reward package, Enforcers portal in, slay the current leaders and brand every citizen as a slave. You’ll see.” Actually, no. She wouldn’t. By then, she would be dead.

  Do not roar a denial. A good warrior cared about nothing and no one; he exhibited control in all things. Remember that.

  A teardrop glistened at the edge of Vale’s lashes. Walk away. Do not reach—

  He reached out—can’t stop—and gently wiped the moisture away. “If you return to your sister while the war rages, you’ll put her in the crosshairs of very dangerous warriors who won’t hesitate to use her against you.”

  “But...she’s sick,” she gasped out.

  “Think, Vale. Think back to the soldiers you encountered at the prison. Do you believe they’ll hesitate to harm a sick girl if the act puts them a step closer to victory?”

  “Will Zion use her against me?”

  “He is the sole exception. As I told you before, he doesn’t hurt women, even the ones who actively attempt to kill him. I believe he will guard her.”

  She shuddered with relief, rattling the vines. “So where are these other realms located? How many have been won like this?”

  “There is an All War Alliance comprised of the thirty-nine realms I mentioned. Long ago, they banded together to share their advanced technologies. The High Council uses those technologies to seek out other worlds.”

  “Keep going,” she said.

  “At last count, there were one hundred and seventeen wars. I’m sure the number has increased since my imprisonment. However, the number of territories mostly remains the same. When a new one is won, it takes the name of the winning realm.”

  “Like when a woman takes the last name of her husband.”

  Nod. “Only when the territory wins its own All War is it added to the tally. So, the number could have increased during the past thirteen hundred years. Some of the realms are beloved universally, some are despised. Some are violent, some peaceful.”

  “I still don’t understand. Why go to so much trouble?”

  “In the past, whenever a new realm was discovered, the others invaded, determined to claim it. Battles ensued and destruction reigned. To preserve the prize, a new system was created.”

  That was the propaganda spewed by the High Council, anyway. Knox believed the High Council preserved resources, lands and people for themselves, and only themselves. One worry at a time.

  Vale’s chest rose and fell in quick succession. “A game,” she said. “All of this...it’s just a game. A game with living, breathing players.”

  “In a sense, yes, though it has very real consequences and rewards.”

  “So does Jumanji.” She laughed, crazed. “How long does this particular game last?”

  “As long as needed. There’s no time limit
.” He would bet the High Council regretted that decision.

  “The game should have stopped when you guys morphed into frozen sex puppets. Or do you prefer the term meat puppets?” she said. “How did you finally break free?”

  “Meat puppets? Explain.” The images his mind conjured...

  A lovely blush stained her cheeks. “Blood loss, amirite? Let’s move on.”

  Very well. “The Rod of Clima has the power to control weather. Either it malfunctioned or a chance in outside temperatures superseded its range.”

  “Global warming.” The blush faded, leaving her pale. “I studied it, the greenhouse effect and melting permafrost in one of my classes.”

  “Explain.”

  “Over the years, humans have used so many fossil fuels and razed so many trees that the amount of carbon dioxide in the air has increased, causing a gradual increase in the planet’s overall temperature.”

  “Ah. I understand now. Iviland was headed down the same path. During a war that predates my birth, we passed a point of no return—our world becoming toxic, driving the citizens underground.”

  “I don’t want the same thing to happen to Earth.”

  “Then you’ll have to win it and fix it.”

  “Is that even possible? Be honest.”

  “Like you, Celeste killed a combatant to enter the war for her realm. Because she won, her queen retained her role as leader.”

  Vale expelled a breath, and he decided not to mention the difference in her circumstances. Celeste hadn’t been pitted against Knox.

  “How did she win, exactly?” Vale asked.

  “You have her memories. You should know.”

  Before coming to Terra, he’d studied the chronicles written about every war. Details collected by royal scribes. There were two different theories about Celeste, and both demonstrated ruthlessness that rivaled his own. Either she’d seduced combatants and used them as shields, or she’d seduced combatants and used them as bait.

  After watching her face off with Bane, after feeling the sting of her sword, Knox suspected she’d done her fair share of killing. She had been trained, clearly, but had wisely hidden her skills. Surprise was as much a weapon as a sword.