by Ana Calin
“Don’t fall asleep,” the girl urges, planting small slaps on my face. My cheeks are so cold that her fingers actually feel warm. “You’ll fall into a coma, and it’ll be hell to recover from it. Trust me, I’ve seen it before.”
“Keep talking to me,” I plead faintly. “What’s your name, tell me about yourself.”
“I’m Edith. Edith Snowstorm, born and raised in the Winter Realm. We moved to the Flipside a few years ago—you know, the mirror version of the mortal reality, the one inhabited by supernaturals.”
“Yes, I know what the Flipside is.”
“What exactly do you know?” she provokes when my voice comes out too faint.
“I’m so tired,” I whisper. “I want to sleep.”
“No sleeping.” She slaps me hard, and I gasp, my back stiffening, icy thorns piercing me.
“You’ve got a heavy hand for a kid.”
“I told you, I’m not a kid. Now tell me what you know about the Flipside.”
“Like you said.” I lick my cracked lips, the salt in my saliva stinging like hell, and kick-starting my brain. “The mirror reality. It’s like the shadow version of the Earth, where the world functions by the rules of magic. Humans aren’t allowed to cross into the Flipside, just as supernaturals are forbidden from crossing over into the mortal world. How did you manage to cross over, by the way? Portals are hard to find, only few humans ever did.”
She slumps against the wall by my side, obviously relieved that I’m back. “It’s easy to find portals for supernaturals. The Flipside is the closest realm to the mortal world, and crossing from one realm into the other can happen relatively easily for someone with magical powers. And I couldn’t resist the temptation. I discovered I could cross over without much effort, and you know how it is—if you can, you do.
“So I made a friend, fulfilled her three wishes like a fairy from bedtime stories, and earned myself her unbroken loyalty. She took me along, showed me her world.” She sighs. “Ah, the parties, the boys, the pot, I loved every minute of it.”
“How could that life compare to the magic life of a fae?” I manage. “I craved the fae world all my life—only not like this.”
I look around at our dreary surroundings. A freezing dungeon, where even the cockroaches died of cold, lying on their backs with their scrambled legs upward.
“Maybe if I could talk to the guy who brought me here. Do you know who he is, maybe his name so I can ask a ward to take me to him?”
She grins. “That would be the most badass of the winter fae. Lysander Nightfrost.”
“Lysander Nightfrost.” The name rolls well off the tongue. I remember the large shoulders and bulging biceps. “The most badass you say?”
“Damn right. He’s the Lord of Winter. Ruler of the Other Side of Hell.”
“The what?”
“Hell. You know it’s ruled by—”
“Lucifer, yes, a high demon. Not a fae. And Hell is a place of fire, not ice.”
“Yes, that’s what most people think. Only those who know the ancient lore are aware of the Other Side of Hell. The Kingdom of Ice, or the Winter Realm, which ensures balance.”
“Balance?”
“Let’s just say that, without it, the world would tip over, and Hell could spread out.”
I remember Aunt Miriam losing a word or two on that, but she mostly avoided the subject.
“Think about it, and you’ll see it actually makes sense,” Edith continues. “The entire universe defines itself by contrast. Light and shadow, water and earth, day and night. How could fire ever exist without ice? How could you ever have one without the other? The universe depends on balance.” She bends closer, her breath warming my frozen cheek. “But one thing you can tamper with—who rules both sides of Hell, fire and ice. The Fire Realm, the antechamber of Hell, so to say, has been after the rulership of the Winter Realm for many thousands of years. No one knows exactly how many. But Lysander Nightfrost has been strong enough to keep all of that force at bay. That’s how powerful he is.”
I remember feeling his power radiating from him, and it was unlike anything I’d ever experienced.
“Can he really freeze time along with space?” I sound like a ghost. I’m fading.
“He can freeze time, he can freeze space, and he can freeze the soul inside people—trap it, like in a prison. He’s one of the most powerful fae kings out there, even the Grim Reaper is wary of him. Hey, hey, listen.” She slaps me again, her palms cracking the layer of frost forming on my skin.
“You start talking now, it’s your turn,” she urges.
“If you’re just trying to keep me awake—”
“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m doing. I won’t let you fucking die on me.”
“If I die here, or if he sends me to the pit, it’s the same.”
“Your name, lady friend. Now,” she demands.
“Arielle,” I whisper. “Arielle de Saelaria.”
“Arielle de Sealaria.” I can hear the awe behind her whisper. “My God. You’re a water fae, aren’t you?”
“Half-fae,” I breathe.
“Jesus Tinkerbell Christ!”
My eyes fall shut, and I succumb to exhaustion. The last thing I hear is Edith’s body slamming into the bars as she calls out into the damp hallway. “Somebody! This woman is who Xerxes Blazeborn of the Fire Realm has been looking for all these years, she is The One. And she’s DYING.”
CHAPTER II
Lysander
I keep looking at the girl lying on red velvet cushions in a crystal bed. Icicles hang from the ceiling like chandeliers all around her, a whole retinue of fae staring down at her sleeping figure. She seems a Snow White in an ice castle setting.
“How come that girl Edith knew who this woman was, and you didn’t?” Sandros reproaches. He stands close to the bed with his retinue of guards, big arms crossed over his broad chest, running his armored hand over his chin. “You are the Lord of Winter, brother. How is it possible that you’ve been around for longer than Lucifer himself can remember, and you didn’t know this?”
“The Snowstorm clan, Edith Snowstorm’s family, are the lore keepers of all winter fae,” I say. “There are many things they know, and we don’t. They are the keepers of our history, of our sacred knowledge. Her family must have passed the knowledge down to her.”
“Then you should probably free the girl from imprisonment as well, put her to better use. Like tell us more about this pretty thing.” He nods his chin at the sleeping Arielle. “You really think she is the one Xerxes has been looking for? She seems so... young and innocent.”
I look down at the sleeping girl, and start to cast the spells that send icicles melting, creating water to help her heal from the frost, and regain her strength. I can’t open the windows and allow the power of the ocean in, that would be too dangerous. It would give her too much power, and she wouldn’t be able to control it.
Along with her strength, the girl also regains her beauty. Jaws drop all around as the present fae watch it happen.
When I first saw Arielle de Saelaria in that fraternity house in the human world she was only a pale shade of what she’s turning into now. Her skin, which had taken on the whiteness of death in the dungeon, is turning into the snowy white of a full water fae, blood filling her lips, plumping them up like blooming roses. The ebony of her hair also regains its luster, looking like black rivers spread over her pillow. The white duvet that covers her body slowly begins molding the full curves of the young woman she was before the frost pruned her.
“If she truly is the descendant of the ocean king,” Sandros says as he watches the process, “she could basically shape-shift into water, just like others shift into beasts. I suggest you put a containing spell on her, make sure that doesn’t happen.”
“I blocked out the ocean especially to avoid a surge of power that she wouldn’t be able to control. She might hurt herself before she hurts us, though. But I’ll put a silver spell on her when she’s awake.” My
magic floats over Arielle’s body, connecting her to the icicles, feeding her their energy.
The other aristocrat families draw closer, eager to watch the half fae regain beauty and shine.
“Love spells,” Minerva Midwinter says. “She’s been doing love spells in the mortal world. It’s the best currency for magical creatures there, isn’t it? Humans long for nothing more than love. Easy prey for rotten supernaturals.”
Humans don’t just crave love, they also monger for power, but it’s not like Minerva to wait for answers.
“My Lord, if I may,” she continues. “We have no proof this woman is who Edith Snowstorm says she is. I suggest we put her to the test, right away.”
The others murmur in agreement, not necessarily because they feel the same way, but it’s not advisable for the nobles of Winter Court to antagonize Lady Minerva Midwinter. As leader of the oldest and most powerful fae families, she has an uncomfortably heavy presence, to say the least.
But one man resents and despises her enough to challenge her, and that’s Sandros.
“How can this girl sustain a test that could kill her, when she’s not even conscious? Besides, if she really is the ocean king’s descendant, then she isn’t a lesser half-breed of fae and human, she also carries the blood of a god. If she gets hurt in the test for lack of care on our part, or basically because of us taking advantage of her weakness, there will be Hell to pay.”
Minerva’s white-blond hair flashes golden with fury, but she tightens her sharp jaw, her thin lips forming an even thinner line than they normally do. She’d slap Sandros if he were one of her subjects, but unfortunately for her he’s my brother, and my second in command, General over my armies.
“Then I suggest we have a Council meeting in which to decide how to establish her authenticity,” she insists. “We won’t be able to use her in any way if her origins aren’t established beyond the shadow of a doubt.”
The girl moans, slowly regaining consciousness. All eyes lock on her pretty face. She can’t be any older than twenty, human years. She’s gaining glow and beauty by the second. She moves her fingers, her eyebrows quivering before she opens her eyes, revealing beautiful blue irises.
“By the cursed realms,” a nobleman mumbles.
The girl is indeed quite a sight with her ebony hair spread over the pillows, and those blue eyes like sapphire, not to mention that she’s got the most delicious rose-red mouth. I can sense that many of the men here are salivating to taste her.
My hand clenches over the silver hilt of my dagger. Ice magic starts to radiate from me, and the nobles step back.
“Lysander, what are you doing?” Sandros intervenes, recognizing the danger behind my white knuckles.
“Her magic is bubbling to the surface,” I reply under my breath, my eyes fixed on the girl. “She could lose control.”
“But—“
“Arielle de Saelaria.” I raise my voice, covering Sandros’ and all the others’ murmurs. “Do you recognize me?”
“Please, don’t, just don’t put those chains on me again.” Her voice is small, faint, and my fist softens on my dagger.
“I won’t.” I change the tone of my voice, making it sound more accommodating to her. “You’re in a castle suite, you’re safe, and I won’t put you in the dungeon again.”
“Are you an angel?” Arielle whispers as she gets up on her elbows, looking fascinated at Minerva, who exudes an aura of magic. She must be quite a vision to a half-fae girl of twenty who’s never been in the supernatural world before. All the others fade in the background, allowing her to stare in awe at Minerva in her crimson queen dress, standing tall and proud near the girl’s bed.
“An angel? Oh yes, let me show you,” Minerva spits through her thin lips, her fingernails sharpening into the icy claws of a winter beast.
“Minerva, step back, now,” I command her before she can fully transform into her magic self, which is no pretty sight. Everybody stops breathing, including the girl. Her eyes move to me. She stares at me with an open mouth, keeping a hand over the blanket that covers her and the black wool rags she’s still wearing, her hair flowing like a shiny black river framing milky cheeks.
“Pull back your magic, I have this,” I tell Minerva.
She hesitates for a few moments, but she doesn’t have a choice, she must obey my command. Her glow retracts, along with her claws of ice.
“Arielle.” I keep my voice at a calming cadence. Her small hand tightens on the duvet when she hears me, which is why I let go of the dagger and hold out my hand. “I won’t hurt you. Nobody here will. But you’re no longer in the human world, you’re on the Flipside, and here your fae powers are rising quickly. It might become too much, and you might lose your grip on them. You have to stay focused to make sure that doesn’t happen.”
“Are we—” She looks around as if searching for something. “Are we around water? I can—” She closes her eyes and breathes in deeply. “I can feel it close, I can smell salt in the air. The ocean.”
If the windows weren’t perfectly sealed to ensure security, she’d hear the crashing waves, too. The ocean has been acting wild and chaotic ever since I brought her, which could be proof that she is indeed the one Xerxes has been looking for. Too bad it’s not proof enough.
“We’re on the West Coast of the United States, but on the Flipside.”
“West Coast, Flipside.” Her eyes widen as she understands. “Did we get here through the bottom of the ocean? Aunt Miriam said that’s how us water fae can get to the mirror reality. She said that, if we swam to the bottom of the ocean, from there we’d emerge on the surface of the Flipside.”
“The ocean is indeed a portal between worlds, as all water is,” I reply. “Mirrors can serve as portals as well, but there are only a few of us that can use them, like me and the Prince of Midnight. For the others, there are designated portals, such as the Mariana Trench, the Bermuda Triangle, abandoned cathedrals, and others.”
She stares at me as she pieces information together. “You can use mirrors as portals because you’re a fae of ice. The mirrored surface of frozen water becomes a portal under your power.”
“So the half-breed is regaining her wits quickly,” Minerva cuts in. “Wonderful. That means she can take the test.”
“By the cursed realms, woman, will you let her at least recover her strength?” Sandros snaps.
Her lips pucker in anger, and her guards tense, ready to pull out their magic and protect her, but so does Sandros and his people.
“Stand down, both of you,” I command. Even though Minerva and Sandros keep glaring at each other, their guards heed. “We’re not going to withstand many more attacks by the Fire Realm if we fight amongst each other. If we want to stand strong, as we did so far, we must remain united.”
Sandros’ eyes dart to me, and it’s all I need to read his thoughts. Yes, Minerva is abusing her position, and the respect we owe to her family and ancestors, but she’s one of us, and a powerful ally.
I turn to the girl lying on the bed. By the cursed realms, she’s even more beautiful than a few moments ago. Her fae side grows stronger and brighter on the Flipside.
“Get some rest,” I command her, though I keep my tone mild. “Relax. You’re safe now, and you’ll be well attended to. When you’re rested and fed, we’ll meet again. There are things we need to talk about.”
I turn on my heels and head to the door, my guards preparing to follow, but the half-fae stops me.
“Please, can I ask for something?”
I tilt my head, searching her gaze. “I’m feeling generous.”
“The girl from the dungeon.” She frowns and swallows, as if it hurts her throat to speak. “Edith. I would like her freed, and joining me, here.”
Murmurs of protest echo through the huge room, but I shoot a look at one of the servants. “Do it.”
Arielle
THE DOOR OPENS, AND Edith is thrown inside. She lands on all fours, the door slamming back shut before I
get to see who brought her.
“Edith, are you all right?” I run over to her, hitching up the folds of my fresh blue dress, and help her up. She has a hard time moving. Seeing her in the light, I realize the poor thing is in even worse shape than I thought back in the dungeon. She’s cold and wet as a fish, bruised and frostbitten. “God, you must have been in there a friggin’ decade.”
“I may well have lost track of time,” she mutters, shielding her eyes from the light with her hand.
I help her to the bed, feeling her ribs under her dirty rags. How long has it been since this girl has eaten?
“Lysander Nightfrost is a friggin’ monster,” I spit as I punch the pillows, supporting her as she lies down against them. “You’re more dead than alive, how didn’t I notice in the dungeon?”
“Because you were worse off than me.” She attempts a laugh that degenerates into coughing. “But don’t beat yourself up, doll. It felt good to be the stronger one, to feel like I could be of use to someone, so thanks for that. It was good while it lasted.”
She grimaces in pain at every move as she tries to find a comfortable position. It’s admirable that she tries to keep her humor, but my heart breaks for her.
“God, it’s a miracle you didn’t die in there,” I say as I remove her dirty rags, patch by patch. They’re falling apart, they’re so worn and frozen, even though now they started to thaw.
“Fae are stronger than humans. Plus, I’m a winter fae, so I can’t get pneumonia or other cold caused illnesses, but that bitch Minerva made sure I went through Hell in other ways.”
So the woman I thought was an angel is actually as much a monster as Lysander.
I bring a bowl of warm water from the bath chamber, and resume the work of removing Edith’s rags, warming the frosted blood from her frostbitten wounds that her clothing sticks to. I grimace, feeling with her as her cheeks twitch, as I unstick the cloth from her skin bit by bit.
“Is it normal for winter fae to get frostbitten?”
“Other powerful winter fae can make that happen. But if you’re just asking questions in order to distract me from the pain, you don’t have to. Your touch does me good.”
