He forced a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. I knew the prospect of staying back and leaving us to defeat this enchantment on our own must be killing him.
“You will come back for me, won’t you, Celine?”
His attempt at lightening the mood didn’t work. I shook my head quickly, and his expression dropped.
“No,” I said, more strength in my voice than I expected. “I won’t come back for you.”
His eyes searched mine, and I wondered what he saw there.
“I won’t come back for you because I’m not leaving you in the first place. Without that object—and without me—you won’t survive here. None of you will. We saw that on the mountain. We have to convince them all to come down with us.”
“But they never will, Celine,” he said, fear in his voice. “It’s only been a day but already I can see that. These people will never follow where I lead. They will never give me the object or come with me down the mountain.”
I remembered the elder’s words about sovereignty. Did Oliver think this refusal from the villagers was an act of defiance against him? Was that what had given rise to this mad plan? Did he mean to sacrifice himself?
I shook him. “You cannot stay here. I will not leave you to die here alone.”
Oliver’s breath caught, and a different look crossed his face. One that made me pause and forget for a moment all about enchantments and godmother items and the killing power of a blizzard.
“I wish it could be true,” he said, his words a whisper. “I wish it could be that you will never leave me.”
This time it was my own trembling that made my hands shake his jacket. “I will not leave you.”
One hand slipped up from my waist, somehow free of its glove, to trace the lines of my face. “I wish it were true,” he said again. “But even without all this, you are a creature of fire and heat, Celine. You were before ever your godmother got involved. Why do you think she gave you such a gift? You could never be happy here, in a kingdom of snow, trapped in a palace like ice. How could I ask such a thing of you?”
I couldn’t breathe, but somehow I found the breath to speak. “You wouldn’t have to ask.”
Even as I said the words, I wondered if they were true. Would I stay here for him? Would I condemn myself to a lifetime in this frozen kingdom? But the answer was already burning through my veins. Here in this valley where my gift had been stripped from me, I still felt heat rushing through every part of me. It jumped from his hand to my face, and it seemed to center around my heart.
Love. The word whispered in my mind, echoing through me until it grew into an all-consuming shout. I never dreamed when I sailed from Palinar that such a thing could be possible. But I hadn’t met Oliver then. Not truly. I could never have loved the icicle that the enchantment had made him.
But the real Oliver—the one I had seen since our eyes met on that first day when Lord Treestone’s men attacked—that Oliver burned just as brightly as me. He might be prince over the ice and snow, but for all his words about my fire, one just as strong burned in him.
It drove him, while still only partially freed from the cloying fog of enchantment, to track us through the forest and scale a castle alone, little more than a shadow. And it drove him now to fight, and to sacrifice himself, to save his people and his kingdom. A kingdom he knew inside out. I had seen it in my weeks in Eldon. Oliver was no prince who hid himself away in his palace, above the people he was called to serve. He was certainly confident in the icy marble halls—a figure of assurance and authority—but he was also at home in the southern woods, in the tunnels of the capitals where he could read the tunnel markings like any local civilian, and on the ice-filled mountains themselves where he could snowshoe like an expert and track a snow leopard without pause.
The shout reverberating inside me spilled out of my eyes, and I saw his own light up in response. His hand dropped from my face, returning to my waist and pulling me hard against him. His eyes blazed back into mine, but still he hesitated.
“Are you asking?” His voice sounded ragged, and it took me a moment to recall our long-ago conversation.
I nodded, unable to speak, and then our lips met, mine angled up to meet his as he pressed his face down to mine.
His kiss reached all the way down to my toes, filled with too many emotions to separate. Our love and longing swirled with our desperation and fear and despair. I knew, without a doubt, that if we had stood anywhere but this valley we would both have gone up in flames by now. None of my attempts at training would have been a match for emotions like this.
If only our biggest problem was his icy kingdom and my aversion to the cold. But we both knew it was not. And our desperation fueled a kiss that tasted too much of goodbye.
I clung to him still because I was afraid if I let go I would fall. I had promised myself I would be strong, but some things I could not withstand.
When Oliver at last pulled away, he rested his forehead against mine, both of our breaths ragged. It hurt to look at him, so I closed my eyes.
“You’re so beautiful,” he breathed against me. “Sometimes you seem too bright to be real.”
I laughed shakily, unsure how to reply. I was beautiful enough, it was true—although not like my sister, Celeste. All the women of my family were. But my beauty had done no good against the snow leopard. And it did us no good now, when we stood so close to something that could save us. For all my efforts to be more—for all my brief taste of true power—I had been reduced once again to a beautiful princess. He said he saw brightness in me, but in truth my fire had failed us.
I tasted fear in my mouth when I remembered what he planned to do. How he planned to sacrifice himself because I had failed to protect us as we planned.
Shaking my head, I pulled back, out of the warm circle of his arms. He looked at me, his brow furrowed and eyes confused as if waking from a dream.
“What is it?” he asked, his gaze never leaving my face. Once again I wondered what he could read there.
“I said that I would not leave you, Oliver, but what of you? Will you truly leave me?”
Pain twisted his face. “I must.”
“No!” I slashed angrily at the air with my hand. “This is not the way. This will not save us. Your kingdom needs you fighting, not waiting uselessly!”
I saw my words hit him like a physical blow, but I wouldn’t take them back. I could feel every nerve humming. I had to make him understand. This village was poison, for all it looked so idyllic. I could sense it—had sensed it since we stepped through the rock. I didn’t know where the poison came from, but nothing good would come of lingering here.
“I wish there were another way,” he said, “but I cannot see one.”
I took two stumbling steps backward, his haunted eyes piercing me. Had I been cold when we started this walk? Every part of me burned now. And yet still no flames leaped to my command. I closed my eyes, drawing deep breaths, trying to think of something that might convince him.
But when I opened them again, he was gone. I sank down onto the forest floor. For all I apparently burned so brightly, I had not been enough. I could not save us from whatever poisoned Valley View. I could not take the object by force. And I could not keep Oliver from walking away. What use was my fire now?
Chapter 23
I don’t know how long I remained curled there, but eventually the cold seeped through into every part of me, driving out any lingering warmth from our embrace. Even in this protected valley it wasn’t warm enough to stay outside and still for so long without a fire.
But the cold wasn’t the only thing that had taken root inside me. I didn’t need fire, I could save us all without it. I had promised myself I could, and I would not back down now.
I suspected the elders wouldn’t even accept Oliver’s proposal, but I didn’t want to take the risk. I could save him before he even approached them.
I just needed the object. And I knew where to find it.
As I
strode back toward the village, new energy flowing through me, I made my plans. Dark was already falling, but I would wait for full black. Then I would force my way through that door and take the object that could save an entire kingdom. These people would thank me one day, when they had been forced away from this noxious place.
Once I had it, we would run for it, straight back down the mountain. The villagers would undoubtedly pursue us—they would have to. But by then it would be too late. I would send Oliver and Giselle ahead with the object, and I would stay behind, just out of range. I would protect us with an inferno impossible to penetrate no matter how well these people knew their mountain. And somehow, with me as the buffer between us, all of us would make it down the mountain. Once we were back in the palace with the object, we would have the royal guard to protect us from the incensed villagers and their treasonous ideas.
I was fired up, ready to act now, but I made myself wait. Full dark still hadn’t fallen. And a loud grumble from my belly reminded me I hadn’t eaten yet, so I reluctantly returned to the house. Calmly sitting down to eat felt too much like being locked back up in Lord Treestone’s castle, but I needed every advantage I could get. Food would only strengthen me.
When I appeared, Oliver quickly looked away, his eyes guarded, his fists tightening briefly. I carefully focused on Giselle instead who looked curiously between us. Eventually she shook her head and turned back to the food.
“I’m not going to ask,” she muttered as she served it into bowls.
I appreciated her forbearance.
Although I forced myself to sit and eat, Oliver didn’t seem to have the same capacity. Whether it was his coming sacrifice, or our encounter in the trees, something tormented him enough that he could sit still only for a minute. After thrusting himself back from the table and striding to the fire for the third time, he was met with a glare from Giselle.
“Sorry,” he said, sounding guilty. “I’ll go.” And before either of us could protest, he had disappeared out the door.
“What did you do to him?” she asked, her voice halfway between exasperated and amused.
A flush rose up my neck, and I couldn’t answer her in kind.
“Well!” she said after a moment of silence.
I pushed my bowl away and leaned across the table. “I don’t know when he’ll be back, which means you have to get ready for all of us.”
“What?” Giselle seemed confused by the sudden change of topic, her blue eyes uneasy at the light in mine.
“We’re getting out of here—tonight. So you need to be dressed and packed for a hasty exit.” I gave her a significant look, and she frowned.
“What exactly are the two of you planning?”
“I’m going to save us before your brother does something stupid. And I’m not waiting any longer.” I stood to my feet and pulled on my jacket. “So just be ready.”
Giselle stood and joined me, although she made no move to pack our bags or dress herself.
“Why do I get the distinct impression that you’re the one about to do something stupid?” She eyed me warily. “What are you planning to do, Celine?”
“I’m stealing the object. And then we’re going to make a run for it.”
Her eyes grew wide. “What?!? We’ve never even seen the object. Are you mad?”
I laughed, but the slightly wild sound didn’t seem to reassure her. “Perhaps.”
She continued to glare at me, but her disapproval did nothing to erode my determination. “We know where the object is, that’s enough.”
“Yes, it’s in a forbidden hut. Remember? And you don’t have your powers anymore.”
I frowned at the mention of my fire. “I don’t need powers, Giselle. I survived without them for eighteen years. Even in the midst of an attempted coup and a rebellion.”
She didn’t look convinced.
“And, anyway, once we’ve got it, you can take it ahead. To free my powers.”
Giselle narrowed her eyes. “If we make it that far.” She gripped my arm. “This is crazy, Celine. At least wait until Oliver gets back. Let us all talk this over. What if you get in there and there’s more than one object inside? How will you know which one it is? And what if they catch you? You remember what the elder said about obeying their laws. Do we even know the penalty for disobeying them? Oliver and I won’t be able to protect you.”
I brushed her concerns aside along with her hand. “I’ll know. And I won’t get caught. You’ll see. Just be ready to run.”
Before she could stop me, I thrust open the door and pushed out into the night. Excitement filled me, tingling in every part of my body. She would see. And so would Oliver. So would anyone who had ever doubted me. I was Celine of Lanover, and I didn’t need a godmother’s gift to keep the people I loved safe.
I soon slowed my stride, however, remembering the need to stay out of sight. Thankfully my goal stood nowhere near the tavern or the baths, the two buildings that seemed to attract nighttime traffic. I slipped from shadow to shadow, staying away from lighted windows or the occasional villager making their way home. I should have waited longer, but I couldn’t risk Oliver returning and trying to restrain me.
When I reached the building, I realized I also should have checked Sterling’s house for tools of some sort. I tried the door, just in case, but of course it remained locked. So now I stood in the dark with empty hands, staring at a locked door.
My eyes traveled to my useless hands and then down to my feet. After a moment of consideration, I shrugged. It seemed I only had one choice.
Planting one foot firmly, I pulled the other up, glad to be wearing pants instead of skirts, and smashed my heel against the door, just below the latch. It didn’t move, but I thought I heard a faint splintering.
A grin stretched across my face as I drove my foot again and again against the same spot. For a moment I forgot everything else as I vented all my anger and frustration on the wooden panels. Finally, with a louder splinter and a crash, the latch gave way, and the door swung inward.
I stood for a moment, panting, satisfaction surging through me. But slowly it faded, a flaring pain in my ankle replacing the surge of energy. I shouldn’t have used my previously injured leg. And now an unwelcome unease accompanied the physical pain.
How much noise had that made? I glanced around, but no one emerged from the shadows to tackle me. I looked again at the broken door. There would be no hiding this. If I couldn’t identify the object, or if it wasn’t even here…
But I shook off the thought. Such doubts would do no good now. And why else would there be a windowless hut, forbidden to all? It would be here.
I stepped inside. My first thought was that I should have brought a lantern. Without windows, the hut remained in almost complete blackness. Something I should have foreseen.
But you didn’t stop to think, did you? said a voice in my mind that I squashed just as I had the earlier thoughts. I was here now.
I pushed the door as wide as it would go, letting in the faint gleam of moonlight. A small table stood close enough to catch some illumination, and I could just make out the outline of a candle. My groping fingers found the nearby tinder box and after much fumbling, I managed to light it. I was far from expert in the task, and I was still complaining to myself when I turned to survey the room.
Ice instantly washed over me. The inside of the hut was as simple as the outside, with the exception of the carved door I had just partially destroyed. But it was no display room. In fact, the inside looked exactly like the storage shed I had first imagined it to be.
Several wheelbarrows, one missing a wheel, leaned haphazardly against one another in one corner. And at least half of the single room was taken up with various pieces of broken furniture all piled on top of each other.
Godmothers were known for enchanting ordinary objects, but I had never known one to enchant a broken chair. And no one would store an essential magical object in such a place. Several of the mismatched piles looked like
they might collapse at any point, crushing anything that happened to be beneath them.
An unpleasant tingling rushed down from my scalp to my toes and back up again. If it wasn’t kept here, where was it? And what had I done? This had all been for naught.
A drop of hot wax dripped onto my hand, and I yelped and jumped backward, only just managing to keep my grip on the candle. My gaze flew from the small flame to the wide-open door. I tried to remember what this building faced onto. Was it angled so that anyone would see the light, so out of place in this particular spot?
I needed to get out of here before someone discovered what I had done. I blew out the candle and let it fall to the floor. Running, I burst from the door, almost tripping down the few stairs in my haste.
As my eyes sought out a path in the unfamiliar darkness, they fell on the shape I most feared. A human shape. Not on the village side of the hut, but on the other side. Someone lurked on the very edges of the village, barely visible in the gloom of the night.
My feet took off running before my brain could catch up. I fled back toward Sterling’s house, not bothering to keep to the shadows because the sound I most dreaded had fallen on my ears. A shout from the shrouded figure. And then the pounding of multiple feet.
I should have run out of the valley entirely, but I was pointed the wrong way, my pursuers cutting me off from the narrow passage and escape. Without thought I continued on my current path. Only as I neared Sterling’s house, my breath now coming in sharp pants, did it occur to me that I couldn’t lead them here. I had to keep running. Find somewhere to hide until I could circle back and be free of this wretched place. Once I hit the snow line, none of them would be able to hurt me. Or so I hoped.
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