Cold Queen

by K. Webster

  He nods and slips quietly from the room. I walk over to the fireplace, holding my palms to the flames. When I regard her with a lifted brow, she scoffs.

  “It’s cold in this hellish prison you have me in,” she bites out. “What do you expect?”

  Smirking, I leave the fire and walk over to the foot of the bed. “We are to wed. That is the proposition I’ve brought to the queen.”

  Her laugh is cold and mocking. “And I bet she willingly agreed.”

  “We’re still negotiating, future wife.” I give her a menacing grin. “We’ll come to terms and then you will learn to overcome that disrespectful tongue just as you’ve done with your allergy to sichee crawlers.”

  All emotion bleeds from her face as her eyes narrow at me. “I had Danser check for sichee spores first. Surprisingly there were none.” Her eyes dart down to her book.

  They don’t call me Truth Seeker for nothing.

  “I started a fire in the queen’s room,” I say, watching her face for a response.

  Her blue eyes meet mine. “Touch my sister and I will end you, Bloodsun.”

  “You ladies are quite the spitfires,” I say, making a clucking sound of disappointment. “Perhaps I’ll take my whip to your ass too, Princess. I’m well versed in breaking a mouthy woman.”

  She clenches her jaw for a moment and then seems to swallow down her anger, trying for a different tactic. Her blue eyes grow soft as she bites on her bottom lip. Feigned innocence. It would work if I hadn’t just witnessed her claws out moments before. She slides from the bed, her eyes filling with tears.

  “Please don’t hurt me,” she breathes. “Let me and my sister go.”

  I allow her to approach but don’t touch her.

  “If you could let me be with my sister, I could give you what you want.” Her blue eyes grow intense as she tentatively runs her fingertips down my chest. “Anything you want.” She darts out her pink tongue and swipes it across her bottom lip.

  Ignoring her advances, I growl out my question. “Did you allow Gorten—a man from my army—to put his fingers inside the cunt that is to belong to me one day?”

  She shakes her head furiously at me. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Striking like a snake, I grip her throat, hauling her up and toward my face. She has to stand on her toes and grabs my cape to keep from falling. “You allowed him to put his fingers inside you for what? A trade. I am the Truth Seeker, woman. I’ll find out one way or another. Even if it means disfiguring my future wife in the process.”

  She makes a horrified sound as tears roll down her face. “She’s my sister, you monster. You won’t let me see her. In case you haven’t noticed, she’s sick. Her tonics are what keep her alive!”

  I shove her away, fury burning hot through my veins. “You sent him to her? Alone? You’re not a queen yet, Princess. How dare you command my army to do your bidding!”

  A strangled sob escapes her. “Please,” she begs. “Don’t hurt me. I only want to help my sister. I swear to you, I’ll do whatever you want. Take me right here if that’s what you want. I’ll marry you by nightfall. Just please don’t hurt us. My sister doesn’t deserve to die a painful death all alone. Give us this and then I’ll give you whatever you want.”

  Enraged, I turn on my heel, no longer interested in talking with this woman. “No one goes in or out,” I roar to Danser. “No one.”

  He hisses out a curse word and then the door slams behind him once he’s inside with her. I storm through the castle, my anger threatening to explode from me like one of our many volcanoes. My men stay out of my way, wisely pressed against the walls, allowing me passage. When I reach the top of the tower, I burst into the room, ready to rip that traitorous vermin from the queen.

  Instead, I find a beautiful sight.

  Elzira, in all her powerful Punisher glory, seems to glow with rage. Gorten, with his back to me, sobs as he cradles his bloody arm. His hand is gone. By the sadistic glint in Elzira’s eyes, I’d say she had something to do with it.

  “He touched my sister,” she hisses as though this explains it all.

  “But I did it for you!” he cries out.

  Heat burns at me, desperately needing a release. He must sense my malevolence burning at his back, because he turns his wide, terrified eyes on me.

  “Your highness—”

  “No!” I bark out, cutting him off. “You’ve committed the biggest sin against your king. You’re a traitor. You chose sides because you wanted your fingers in a little princess. Where are your fingers now?”

  He sobs, his whole body trembling.

  Elzira rounds the bed, thrumming with energy. Her blue eyes blaze brighter than I’ve ever seen them. I’ve never seen anything more beautiful.

  “Gone,” she snarls, waving her hand and ejecting five sharp diamondblades. She makes a motion through the air. “And now they’re keeping me warm.” Her head nods in the direction of the fireplace.

  “On your knees,” I bark out to Gorten. “Bow to your king.”

  He falls quickly, holding his bleeding hand to his chest. “I’m so sorry. Please.”

  Walking up to him, I place my palms on either side of his head that’s drenched with sweat. I grip him tight, tilting his head so he’s forced to look at me.

  “No. One. Betrays. Me.” I summon my fires, my eyes locking into his. His screams are otherworldly as I send heat into his skull. Cooked flesh and hair fills the room. I watch with glee as his head turns red from the heat. When his hair catches fire, I take a step back to admire my work. He’s already dead, but he remains upright on his knees. Eyeballs melt from their sockets and slide down his cheeks before rolling onto the floor. Hissing and popping can be heard as the heat cooks what little brain he had in his head. Eventually, gravity takes over and he falls to the floor.

  I’m not sure how long I stare at his cooked head, but eventually, I seek out Elzira. I want to ask how she was able to tap into her gift. I’ve always called her weather maker—because that is what her lineage is and I know she’s capable of it—but she’s also a blade maker. I find her sitting by the window, tapping as she stares out.

  Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. And tap.

  Over and over again. I walk over to her. In her lap she cradles three vials.

  Her sister did all this to get these tonics to her. The princess is every bit as vicious as the cruel queen herself. I’ve underestimated their ability to work as a team.

  “Sisterly love,” she says, a small smile on her face. “Not even a fire king can stand in the way.” Her head lolls to the side and it’s then I see the diamondblades have broken off, sitting in a pile next to her on the chair. The vials are empty.

  “Elzira,” I growl, kneeling beside her.

  Her eyelids flutter. “Mmm?”

  “What’s wrong?”

  Watery eyes meet mine. “You know what’s wrong, Volc. I’m dying. That’s my truth, Truth Seeker. I suggest you quit playing your games and come to me with a plan we can agree on.” Her bottom lip wobbles. “Our time is limited. I want to make the transaction so I may spend my last days with her. Give me that, Ryke, please.”

  When she nods off, I lose my mind. I storm from the room, stepping over Gorten’s stinking body, on a mission to find one person.

  Mazon.

  I find him holed up in one of the rooms that looks to be used as a library. He’s setting up his tools with his back to me. Mazon is old, with long white hair and wrinkled skin. But he’s fierce and brilliant. The old man will never die as far as I’m concerned. I quickly fill him in on Elzira’s condition and what I know about it before sending him up to see her. Then, I stalk out of the room after him.

  “Your highness,” Jorshi calls out.

  I halt and turn to him. “What is it? I’m rather busy at the moment.” Busy keeping my cold queen alive.

  He frowns. “I’ve spoken with Cavon, er Green, and they’re coming.”

  “Who?” I demand.

  “The Dam
ned.”

  “A nest? I have twenty thousand men out there. And what about the Eyes of the White? Will they stand by and let those things rush the castle? Eliminate the mad ones.”

  His nostrils flare. “Sir, it’s not that simple.”

  Irritation and impatience have me seeing red. “Out with it already,” I boom. “I haven’t got all day.”

  “These are different. Many more than the nests we often see. An entire horde of them, your majesty.” He frowns. “A scout discovered them while investigating Norta Layke. They’re just beyond that, entering through the passageway between the mountains from the Hidden Lands.”

  “A horde. A horde is no match for twenty thousand Volcs and the Eyes of the White.”

  “We’re outnumbered still,” Jorshi whispers. “There are too many.”

  “How long?” I growl.

  “Two or three days.”

  “We’ll meet later to devise a plan. In the meantime, make sure our men are fed and training.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Once he’s gone, I rush up the stairs to the tower. Gorten is no longer on the floor and the mess has been cleaned thanks to two servant men who work for me. Elzira has been moved to the bed where Mazon checks her over. Her skin is as pale as snow. It’s her blue lips that send unease curling in the pit of my stomach. I’ve never seen her look so close to death.

  “How is she?” I demand.

  He turns his weathered face my way and frowns. “If she were anyone other than Queen of the Icelands, she would’ve perished by now. Nothing a little gappenoil can’t fix.”

  “Elaborate.”

  “She is incredibly strong. Like someone else I know.”

  “Strong? She’s dying, Maz. Look at her. Unable to open her eyes.”

  He nods. “I agree. She’s weak.”

  Gritting my teeth, I try not to throttle him. Sometimes his old man riddles are tiresome.

  “Do you remember when you were fifteen, my boy?” he asks.

  It was fifteen years ago. I remember. “Of course.”

  “Do you remember when you and your cousin snuck out of the palace on a hunt for The Damned?”

  My gut churns at the memory. Recks was my favorite cousin. My best friend. “I do,” I growl. “Where is this going?”

  I don’t want to play out the memory. I simply want him to tell me what’s on his mind. The old man ignores my wishes as he continues his story.

  “You two were unruly boys, always looking for trouble,” he says wistfully. “You found it too.”

  We’d walked through back alleyways behind houses and ended up in an old woman’s garden. It smelled sweet. Honnin drops. Little sacs of sweet, yellow goodness. Something that was too delicious to pass up. Recks was eating them by the handfuls. I’d managed to eat a few when the woman came out, chasing after us with a broom. Had she known I was a prince, she would’ve thought better. But at the time, we were two disruptive boys stealing from her garden.

  “How does this have anything to do with Elzira’s condition?” I demand, eager to change subject.

  Mazon frowns. “You two barely made it to the end of the road…”

  Recks began foaming at the mouth, clutching his throat. I started retching. When he began shaking uncontrollably, I blacked out completely. Later, I woke up in the castle. I’d originally thought it was a bad dream. But it wasn’t. Recks and I inadvertently ate something deadly.

  “Honnin drops have forever been eradicated,” I huff. Because of my father. He sent all his men out and burned down the homes and lands of anyone who even had a vine of it growing. Recks died that day, whereas I lived.

  “Have they?”

  I glare at Mazon.

  He glares right back.

  Elzira

  The cold, which is my gift, is also my curse. Most days, I hate that it consumes me to the point of near death. It’s punishing. I hate it. So when I wake to warmth, I cling to it. I wrap my arm around the solid heat and bury my face against the masculine scent of it.

  “She lives,” a familiar voice teases, deep and husky, as he runs his fingers through my hair. “Long live the queen.”

  I attempt to summon my cold to my fingertips to give him a zap on his bare, muscular chest. Instead, I weaken further. Sickness roils in my stomach. I clench my eyes closed, fighting past the wave of dizziness.

  “When your father died, who was your advisor?” Ryke asks.

  “I advised myself.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me in the least,” he says with a chuckle that moves the bed. “But surely you sought some council. At fifteen, you were not all-knowing on the ways of being a queen.”

  I think back to the days when Cavon, just three years my senior, held me together when I was falling apart. For a few years there, our lines of queen and soldier were blurred to that of friends. But the moment I saw something more than friendship glimmering in his green eyes, I knew it was time for a hasty retreat. I’m a queen. Queens don’t get distracted by handsome boys who want to save them. No, they lead those handsome boys into battle, knowing they’re at their back ready to fight to the death for them.

  “Cavon, I suppose. It was natural as his father was my father’s most trusted man.”

  “Green?” he scoffs. “He’s awfully territorial of you, so that makes sense.”

  “He wanted more,” I admit. “Of course, he never spoke those words. I just knew.”

  “Did you want more?”

  I turn my head to look up at him. His amber eyes are intense as they bore into me.

  “A queen doesn’t yearn for girly things like love. A queen yearns for power.”

  His brow lifts. “A queen could have both.”

  “Not with someone like Cavon,” I mutter.

  He breaks into a wide smile. “But with a king she could.”

  Swatting at his chest, I scoff. “You just love to taunt, don’t you? Do you wake up each morning asking yourself how you can terrorize those around you, Volc?”

  “It’s a part of my breakfast routine,” he teases. “Speaking of which. You’ve missed lunch. Supper will be here soon.”

  My stomach tightens at the mention of food. “I’m not hungry.”

  “I’m not really concerned with what you do and don’t want, snowflake. I’ve accosted you and you’re my prisoner. That means, while you’re in my custody, I will make you do whatever I see fit.” He slides a palm to my bottom, squeezing the flesh as he heats me through my dress. “I have plans for later if you’re craving something a little more filling after supper.”

  I sit up on my elbow and glower at him. “What do you want from me, Ryke? Your games are tiring.”

  “I want to marry your sister, right? Isn’t that what I proposed?” He lifts a brow and his amber eyes gleam with mischief.

  “Do you really?” I demand.

  “She’s a bit of a tart,” he says absently. “Although I have a thing for the sour ones.” He pinches my cheek, earning a growl from me. His bellowing laughter steals a small smile from me.

  “My sister deserves love,” I tell him. “Can you give her that?”

  His features grow stormy. “No. I could never love her. I’m sorry.”

  I blink back tears. “You couldn’t even lie to me? Send me to my death knowing my sister will be well-loved and cared for? You’re a sadistic monster.”

  “Your sister was always a transaction for me. A token to access the Hidden Lands. This was always about my ultimate destination—the ultimate war. I am not only the Truth Seeker, I am a truth speaker.”

  “Then tell me the truth,” I beg. “What do you want from me?”

  His warm palm cradles my cheek. He drops his gaze to my lips, causing a sweat to break out over my skin. “I want…” His words trail off as he runs his thumb across my bottom lip. “I want what I came for.”

  “My sister?”

  “Access to the Hidden Lands.”

  Why doesn’t he just cut my throat and barge through our lands, taking what he
wants? Why is this Volc asking for a deal? Is it some game to him?

  “Never,” I tell him. Not because I care. If he wants to go to a mysterious land to fight in a war made of make-believe monsters, then so be it. I fight him on this because I can tell he’ll keep bothering me until I give in. What happens when I give in? Do I die? Does he take off with my sister? At least when I keep telling him no, he stays right beside me, warming me up and driving me crazy.

  His fiery eyes flash with pleasure. A tiny thrill dances up my spine and wraps around my heart. Why do I care if I please him with my argumentative nature? Because you like the look on his face. His incredibly handsome face. I study his features for a moment. His messy black hair, dark brows, and scruffy cheeks. A strong, proud nose. Naughty golden brown eyes that track my every move. I love his lips most, though. Full and soft. Always twitching with a smile. His smiles are nice.

  “Awfully fixated on my mouth, Dead Queen. Would you like me to put it to good use? Keep you warm between your thighs?”

  I frown and jerk my eyes to his. “Between my thighs? Why there?”

  He laughs as though I’m joking and then the humor fades. “You’re serious?”

  “That’s where I…” I trail off, embarrassed at my words. “You know.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Don’t make me say it.”

  “I honestly don’t know. Tell me, snowflake.”

  “Where I relieve myself. Why must you be so disgusting?” I spit out.

  His hand slides down my body and he clutches my thigh, drawing it over his hip. “Must we have a lesson, innocent one?”

  My cheeks burn at his words. “Don’t patronize me.”

  “I’m only trying to educate you.” His grin is wolfish. “You, my queen, know what’s between your thighs. The importance of what’s there.”

  I look away, frowning. “Leave me alone.”

  His leg slides up between my legs, coming to rest at the place in question. He brings his mouth close to my face, brushing his lips across my cheek. My core clenches in response.

  “You know about babies, yes?”

  “Yes,” I grit out.