Cold Queen

by K. Webster

  As he kisses me until I’m dizzy, I allow images of children with a man like Ryke to flit through my mind. I may not have a long life ahead of me, but I have the power to wish for one. And until I take my last breath, I’ll keep wishing.

  Ryke

  “We must leave now,” Danser says, the edge in his voice sparking me to action.

  “They’re upon us already?” I look up at my most trusted man briefly before inspecting my sword again.

  “They are.”

  “Queen Whitestone?”

  “She already bid her sister goodbye and is getting fitted for armor.”

  I arch a brow. “How did their farewell meeting go?”

  “It was a tearful affair,” he grunts. “Yanna whispered some things to the queen that I wasn’t privy to hearing.”

  My spine stiffens. “The queen is okay?”

  “Perfectly so.”

  Exhaling a sharp breath, I sheath my sword and pull on my cape. Danser and I are already wearing our battle armor. His metal helmet reveals his dark eyes and mouth. My own helmet is fashioned into more of a crown with high, black, jagged spikes on top so that my men can tell their king from the rest. Danser and my other men all stand out against the white walls and the queen’s army.

  “You shouldn’t go,” Cavon growls, echoing down the hallway toward us in tandem with footsteps.

  “And you shouldn’t command your queen,” Elzira hisses back. “The Eyes of the White need me leading them.”

  “I can lead them,” he bites back, uncaring of his place in her world, which is beneath her boots.

  They come into view and my face breaks out into a wide grin.

  Beautiful.

  She’s an incredible vision.

  And mine.

  Rather than her fancy dresses or white, Elzira is fitted in tight black trousers, black boots that go to her knees, a black shirt, and a black cape more her size. What has my cock rising to the occasion is the metal plate over her torso with the shape of a flame carved into the metal. Her white-blond hair hangs down in front of her shoulders, a stark contrast against the black. The woman is beautiful in her natural glory, but this day she is extraordinary. Black and gray shades line her eyes and make the blue seem to pop. Her cheeks are rosy with natural color and her once blue lips are the color of blood.

  If only we had more time…I’d love to see those lips wrapped around my cock.

  As though she’s caught me inside my head, Elzira smirks, her eyes flashing wickedly at me. “Your highness,” she greets, her voice a seductive purr. “I hear we must leave right away.”

  “You’re not going to let her go, are you?” Cavon demands, his green eyes burning into me with hate and accusation. “She is weak. Ill. Dying.” He utters the last word so that only the four of us may hear.

  Lightning quick, I strike out at him, grabbing his neck. I summon my fires until his eyes flash with panic.

  “Don’t speak to your queen as though she is fragile and weak,” I growl, snarling at him. “You are to carry out her commands without question. She is a force and our best chance against the horde of The Damned.” Turning my head, I smile at her. “Does she look weak to you right now? Or does she look like the woman who is going to make every single last one of her enemies, both crazed and fully fucking aware, bleed at her booted feet?” I snap my eyes back at him. “Your queen is not weak, nor is she stupid. Like a good queen, she makes strategic moves that you could never fully understand, Green. Question your queen again and I’ll send your head rolling like I did her worthless servant. Are we clear?”

  Cavon’s green eyes practically glow. “Of course, your highness.”

  I release him and he rubs at his throat. Black singe marks ruin his otherwise perfectly white outfit. It pleases me to know I ruined him just a bit. One day I’d love nothing more than to ruin him completely.

  “Give us a moment,” I instruct both Cavon and Danser.

  “We don’t have time for whatever nefarious deeds you’re conjuring up in that evil head of yours,” she teases, her lips curling into a brilliant smile.

  I stalk over to her and then walk her back to the nearest wall. Pressing into her, I let her feel exactly what she does to me, simply by being near. She smells like the cinnamon apples we had for dessert.

  Not billibone or voxin leaves or yellowberry.

  No, she smells like life and power and a hint of rage.

  Sliding both my hands into her hair, I draw her to me in a punishing kiss so I can make sure she tastes as she smells. One can never be too careful. I kiss her deeply as though I could consume her. I certainly try. Her moans are ones I swallow down greedily. My hips grind against her, desperate for the friction only her sweet body can provide.

  “If I die on the battlefield…” she mutters against my lips.

  Then I’ll die too.

  The thought is sudden and fierce. All-consuming. The truest truth I’ve ever known.

  It’s a good thing neither of us is dying anytime soon.

  “Then I pity the one who lays a finger on you.” I nip at her plump bottom lip. “Because I’ll burn him alive slowly so I can savor the scent of his skin cooking.”

  She laughs.

  Wicked queen.

  “And if I die…” I lift a brow at her in question.

  Anger flashes in her blue eyes, the temperature chilling to an uncomfortable level. “I will send a thousand diamondblades to pierce his body and pin him to the earth while The Damned feed on his worthless king slaying body.”

  “Are you sure we don’t have time?” I growl. “I really want to bed my dark, dirty, evil queen.”

  “Yours?” she breathes.

  “You better damn believe it.”

  One of the men yells from nearby, stealing our moment, but not before I steal one more kiss.

  “Let’s go slay, Punisher.”

  Side by side, Elzira and I ride on two of my black horses. Our men, both in black and in white, are a united front behind us. Every single one of us is lethal. The roar from The Damned can be heard just beyond Norta Layke. They’ll have to go around the body of water to reach us, dividing their army right away. Men with arrows, waiting to be lit and expelled, wait in the cover of trees. Men all dressed in white, camouflage themselves in the snowy blanked landscape. And men with fiery torches stand behind me, luring the mad ones our way.

  Time passes slowly as we wait them out. A massive silent army patiently standing by as ruthless, braindead monsters rush for us. The fire in my veins heats to incredible temperatures, just waiting to be unleashed.

  I break from staring at the white beyond where the screams are growing louder, and look at Elzira. Her diamondblade crown sits proudly on her head and her black cape flaps behind her. She’s powerful and stronger than any other person I’ve met.

  How dare they insult her?

  How dare they try to keep her locked away in a tower, unfed and worse?

  They’ll all pay with their heads in the end.

  She must sense my eyes on her because she tilts her head to the side slightly, cutting her icy blues my way. A smirk plays at her crimson lips.

  “They’re coming,” she warns, her voice hard and fearless. “Are you ready, fire maker?”

  “The Damned is the only thing standing between me and the Hidden Lands. I was born ready, cruel queen.” I grin at her. “The Moral War awaits me. The end is near.”

  She purses her lips together. “I still stand in your way. When they’re all dead and their corpses flood my land, it’ll be me standing in your way. You think I’ll allow you to marry my sister now?”

  The horse she’s on snorts and shakes its head. She smooths her palm down the side of its head to calm it.

  “Are you jealous, Punisher?”

  “I’m smart, Volc. And letting you run off with my sister is not.”

  “Your sister was always to be a business transaction. Nothing more.”

  “And me?”

  “You were supposed to die,”
I tell her blandly, earning me a hateful look from Cavon beside her. “But you didn’t die, did you? Now what, Queen Whitestone?”

  “I won’t let you go,” she utters.

  To the Hidden Lands?

  Or in general?

  “Good thing I don’t bow to anyone, not even you,” I taunt, loving the way her lips quirk on one side. “I have other plans.”

  “You won’t kill me,” she sasses, lifting her chin in that regal way that makes me want to kiss the hell out of her.

  “No, Cold Queen,” I say with a wicked grin. “I’m not done fucking you yet.”

  Cavon growls from beside her and then points. “They’re here.”

  At first, it’s just a slight gray blur. Then, rather quickly, the blur emerges from the heavy snow falling and painting the distance black. The roars are unearthly and inhuman. Madness fuels these monsters. There will be no negotiations, and we won’t take prisoners. They’ve come to die.

  Just as they reach the north side of Norta Layke, a blaze of orangey-red shoots through the trees toward the horde. One burning arrow won’t kill twenty thousand of The Damned. But the hundreds of arrows that follow, lighting up the white sky with fire, will certainly put a dent in them.

  The screams grow louder as most of the arrows hit their mark, sending hundreds collapsing as they walk. The Damned charge right over the ones that have fallen, an unstoppable force headed our way. As another several hundred arrows fly toward them, I glance over at Elzira.

  She glows.

  Brilliant. Blue. A queen about to annihilate those who threaten her kingdom.

  Tearing my gaze from the beautiful one, I watch as the horde splits in two around the outer sides of Norta Layke. This time, yelling can be heard on our end as a sea of white and black charges forth. Men with swords act as a barrier between the mad ones and their king and queen.

  Minutes pass as our men round the body of water on both sides. And then a loud clash of swords meeting flesh and crazed screams echo through the air.

  “Onward!” Elzira cries out, kicking her horse into action.

  Her cape billows behind her beneath a mess of white hair as she rides full speed toward the bigger of the two hordes coming around one side. I snap my own horse into action and gallop after her. Ice pellets sting against my face, but quickly melt as my fires consume me.

  A flash of blue explodes in front of me, and briefly, I’m stunned by the magic of it. The Punisher harnesses her beast within and becomes the weapon. Sharp as a blade. Lethal as a snake. Stronger than a massive blizzard. Her arms rise in front of her, turning brilliantly blue as she summons her ice, and then she slings her hands forward, shooting dozens of diamondblades toward her enemies. They cut through the icy air and meet their mark, dropping many of The Damned all at once.

  She is The Punisher of The Damned and she doesn’t disappoint.

  I charge past her, summoning my fires as I grip the hilt of my sword. Slinging it out, I allow the fires to heat the metal and catch aflame.

  The Damned are meeting their maker this day.

  All of them. One by one. We will eliminate them.

  I slash through the skull of one of the crazed ones, slinging a hunk of stringy-haired scalp into the snow. Before this one can fall, expired, another one mows it down on its trek toward me.

  Slash. Slash. Slash.

  One charges for me with a diamondblade sticking out of its eye. Before I can sling my sword, several diamondblades stab through it, knocking it to the ground. I jerk my head to the right just in time to see Elzira’s smug smile before she’s back to throwing more blades.

  Brave queen.

  My beautiful, fiery, fierce lover.

  I could stare at her forever.

  Unfortunately, I have a massacre to lead.

  I’ve barely taken out six more before something is shoved through my gut. I groan in pain, looking down to see a diamondblade sword sticking out of my stomach. My instinct is to look Elzira’s way.

  Her eyes are lit up with more hatred than I’ve ever seen.

  Still fiery.

  Still fierce.

  Still beautiful.

  But also malevolent and evil and wicked.

  And cruel.

  I slide off my horse, landing on my knees in the snow as pain immobilizes me. If I can remove the sword—

  Someone rips it out of me and then it’s shoved through my back again.

  The white blurs to black.

  Blinking away the daze, I lock eyes with my queen.

  A king always kneels before his queen.

  She’s mine.

  From the moment I saw her, I knew she was mine. I never planned on taking her sister or leaving her. No, I was going to make her my queen in every way possible.

  And that’s my truth.

  Too bad she’ll never get to hear it.

  My eyes go dark, and this time, they don’t open.

  Elzira

  Hate like I’ve never know before consumes me.

  Maddens me.

  Transforms me.

  The scream ripping from me is worse than all The Damned combined.

  Betrayal cuts deep. The ones who say they love us cut the deepest.

  Roaring comes up behind me and Danser shoots past me—past his fallen king—to slay the mad ones. Protecting his queen. My battle is before me.

  “He poisoned your mind.” Jealous green eyes flare at me. As though this absolves him from his monstrous deed.

  “He freed me,” I screech, the snow thickening around us, hiding us in a vortex of revenge, the scene only for the three of us.

  “He tricked you,” Cavon says, holding his diamondblade sword out in front of him, Ryke’s blood dripping from it. “He’s a con, Elzira. He can’t love you like I can.”

  My eyes drop to the perfect dark king. His blood soaks the white snow. He can heal himself, so why does he remain unmoving?

  Don’t die on me now, Volc.

  Not after all we’ve been through.

  “What have you done?” I demand lowly, ice freezing every inch of my soul with the need for vengeance.

  Cavon pulls off his mask to reveal his handsome face. At one time I’d been attracted to him—secretly wished for a life with him. But something, deep down, always warned me off. I thought it was because of his position within my army. No royal blood. That wasn’t it at all. I knew something was off, so the trust was never fully there. Not enough to go further than friends.

  “It’s no secret King Bloodsun nearly died of honnin drops poisoning when he was younger and that his father had the plants all destroyed,” Cavon says, his lip curling in a cruel way. He inspects his sword and grins. “Looks like I found some.”

  Mazon.

  I need to get Ryke to Mazon.

  But first…

  “This won’t go unpunished, Cavon,” I say in a cold tone. “It’s as if you don’t even know who I am anymore.”

  He scowls. “We could have been everything,” he bites out. “I could have been your protector and fathered your children. I could have grown old with you.”

  My hatred has manifested into a massive storm swirling around us. I can feel the ice drawing to me like a magnet. Growing, hardening, sharpening. The violence in the air matches that inside my heart.

  The traitor has attempted to tear the only good thing from my life.

  Tried to poison and destroy it.

  A small groan from Ryke has a ripple of hope quaking through me. He can heal himself. The sword is gone, so maybe with Mazon’s help, he can heal.

  So help me, Ryke, if you don’t come back from this, I’ll hunt you down in the underworld and drag you back to me.

  Another groan.

  “You’re weak,” I tell Cavon, laughing at him. “A poor, mistreated, unloved runt. Men like you don’t get to be with women like me. Women like me are too much for you to handle.”

  “I can handle you,” he argues. “You don’t think I know how to use my cock, Elzira? I fucked my way through yo
ur castle so I’d be good for you. Better than good. The best.”

  “You’re pathetic. No matter how good you are in bed, you’ll never have what it takes to be the best. Not like Ryke,” I hiss, lifting my arms in the air.

  “What’s that?” Cavon snarls. “I can assure you I have what he has and more. A big cock? I would tear you to pieces with mine, your highness.”

  I shake my head at him. “No, Cavon. You don’t have my love. Never will. Love is what makes fucking my king magical.” I sneer at him. “Now bend the knee one last time.”

  He starts for me, raising his sword.

  Swish. Swish. Swish. Swish. Swish.

  Cavon pauses, looking down at his front where five fresh diamondblades pierce his chest. Crimson stains his white suit. His green eyes dart to mine, betrayal flashing in them.

  Oh, how terrible he must feel.

  He makes a choking sound and swings his sword at me. His arm doesn’t make it far before a giant sheet of ice drops from above, slicing through his bicep. The arm and sword fall to the ground, blood spraying an arc across the frigid landscape from his severed appendage.

  “Elzira,” he whimpers.

  “Kneel,” I scream, pulling the harsh wind toward me.

  The gust forces him to fall forward, making him land on his knees.

  Trudging forward through the snow, I fist my hand and summon my ice. Rather than five blades, a club of ice forms from my fist and then lurches out into a sharp, large diamondblade. I grip his soaked brown hair and yank his head back so he can see my face.

  “You betrayed the wrong queen and you are officially relieved of your duties to me,” I whisper as I slice my arm through the air.

  He continues to stare at me in shock, even after his body falls to the ground. I stare at his severed head for a long moment before tossing it outside of the vortex of wind and ice swirling around us.

  “Danser!” I cry out. “Come quick!”

  I calm the fury inside of me long enough to make the winds die some. Danser is fighting the horde that’s swarming all around us, but I need him to attend to his king more.

  “Mazon,” I bark. “Get him to the castle. Have Mazon give him gappenoil. We don’t have time. Make haste!”