King of Frost

by Ana Calin

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  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in

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  including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage

  and retrieval system, without permission in writing

  from the author except in the case of brief quotations

  embodied in reviews.

  Publisher’s Note:

  This is a work of fiction,

  the work of the author’s imagination.

  Any resemblance to real persons or events is

  coincidental.

  Copyright January 2020 – Ana Calin

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  CHAPTER I

  CHAPTER II

  CHAPTER III

  CHAPTER IV

  CHAPTER V

  CHAPTER VI

  CHAPTER VII

  CHAPTER I

  Arielle

  HUMILIATION, MOCKERY, that’s what this is. The powerful Lord of Winter took everything from me, and now he’s pledging himself to another woman, while making me watch.

  “It’s just an engagement,” Edith says, her fingers working on my elaborate hairdo. I watch her pretty reflection in the vanity mirror, her silver hair coiling in braids around her head, framing her heart-shaped face. Her big eyes meet mine against the pane, soft brown on sad blue.

  “He’s not actually marrying her tonight.” She presses her cheek to mine. “It’s just the engagement.”

  “Engaged or married, it’s the same commitment between High Fae, and you know it.” I mask my pain with anger. “The bond is unbreakable.”

  I jut out my chin, watching Edith put the sparkling sapphire necklace on my chest, and tying it behind my neck. With my hair braided up in the same fashion as Edith’s, I seem to have a swan neck, snow-white skin contrasting with ebony hair.

  “You’re so beautiful,” Edith whispers, “princess.”

  I smile, a hand on the sapphire necklace.

  “Thank you,” I manage, but my voice breaks again over repressed tears. What’s the point of being beautiful, or a sea fae princess, heiress to the entire power of the oceans, if you can’t grasp that power, and you’ve been chained to a man who makes all decisions in your place.

  I push back my chair, its legs scratching the stone. I walk to the arched window, staring out at the wild ocean as it crashes against the castle’s rocky base, letting the chill dry my eyes. I breathe in, salty air filling my lungs. The shiny blue corset tightens on my body, but the lower part is made of vaporous folds, weightless as the breeze, allowing the air to caress them like leaves on a tree.

  “It was King Lysander himself who had it made for you,” Edith says behind me, her fingers working the folds of my dress.

  “Another way to state his power over me before he marries another woman.”

  “It’s not definitive, Arielle,” Edith insists, making me look at her. “They’re not getting married, this is the engagement ball, get that through your head. A lot can happen between now and the wedding.”

  I whirl around, my dress brushing hers. “You know very well Lysander needs Minerva’s military connections in order to gain the advantage over Xerxes. She will pull the rug if he ever breaks that commitment. Minerva is many things, especially a total bitch, but she’s not an idiot.”

  Edith’s sweet mouth tightens. What can she possibly say, she knows I’m right.

  I look down at my arms, the silver drawings shimmering just under my skin.

  “Look at me. The ocean king’s heiress, trapped in the Lord of Winter’s tower by the ocean. He chained my powers, imprisoned me, limited me in every way he could think of, while he takes all the liberties in the world.” I scoff bitterly. “He’s a manipulative villain. He’s got control over my powers, and now he’s acquiring Minerva’s, too. Killed two birds with one stone.”

  Edith takes my hand in hers, searching my eyes. “Arielle, King Lysander is not in love with Minerva. He’s only doing this for strategic and military reasons. It’s you that he has feelings for.”

  I pull back my hand and walk to the vanity table. “Oh come on, I know him well enough by now. He only loves power.”

  “Let me remind you that it was Minerva who requested this union, and she did it when Lysander asked for her help in order to ensure your safety. When this is over, I’m sure he’s also going to restore your full control over your powers. He only chained them because you’d wreak havoc without proper training. You’ve never wielded such force before, Arielle, you have no idea the chaos and destruction it can cause. You lived your whole life in the mortal world, barely scratching the surface of magic. You had no idea you were the ocean king’s sole heiress.”

  “Water has always called to me,” I whisper, staring into the mirror as if it could transport me back in time. “Every time I was near water, I felt powerful, ecstatic even. If I’d ever been by the ocean, my power might have exploded to the surface, and maybe it would now too, without his silver spell on me. Lysander has no right to separate me from my legacy. He could help me master it. Teach me how to handle the big guns. But no, he wants to keep my power for himself, use me for his own purposes, and don’t you even try to defend him, Edith, because you know damn well I’m right. You have a pure heart, you’re a romantic and want to believe there’s romance at work here, but there’s nothing romantic about this situation.”

  Knocking announces the presence of a guard, his ice-silver mail glimmering in the cold winter sunlight as he stands between the grand double doors. He stares at us for a few moments before he clears his throat and resumes his detached demeanor.

  “You are expected in the banquet hall,” he announces, and stands to the side. I look to Edith.

  “It’s time,” she whispers, squeezing my hand. “If it’s too much to bear, lean on me. We’ll get through this together.”

  I take a deep breath, deciding to fake it until I make it—act cool, composed, dignified. But it won’t be easy to watch Lysander pledge himself to another. Actually, I expect it to hurt like hell.

  My heart beats faster with every step I take down the grand stairs towards the banquet hall. Silver and ice arches blind us, clamoring and voices flooding the castle, turning louder as we descend into the thick of the crowd. It takes a while until my eyes adjust to the glamour, and I can see people’s reactions. Edith squeezes my arm.

  “Everybody’s staring,” I whisper.

  “That’s because you’re incredibly beautiful.” I detect enthusiasm behind her words.

  “Or maybe they’re just curious about the ocean king’s only descendant.”

  Clusters of elegant and dignified attendees move aside as we walk deeper into the hall towards the large archways that open towards the sea, no windows shielding the hall from ocean breeze and the sound of crashing waves. I’m finally able to make out figures and faces against the glamour. We’re walking past brown-haired fae dressed in leaf-green robes and tunics that look impeccable. Some wear robes encrusted with precious stones, marking them as high noblemen and ladies of ancient respectable houses.

  “Woodland fae,” Edith breathes in my ear. “Minerva’s family supported them in their campaigns for decades, which is why they feel they have a debt of honor to her. They’re one of the reasons Lysander is doing this.”

  As my sight fully clears I realize there’s a myriad of supernatural creatures, all of them even more impressive than in fairy tales. I can barely keep my jaw together, my eyes roaming as Edith and I sweep by them.

  There are people with special skin that glimmers like scales in the light—serpent and dragon shifters, the real deal. A minotaur family close to Minerva’s silver-and-gold haired clan
with their bright silken robes, tunics and gowns, and a group of witches with pointed hats holding goblets of wine on Lysander’s side of the hall. There are vampires, too, I can distinguish them by the deathly pallor of their faces, and the blood-red lips. They’re as beautiful as the fae, and look as dangerous as the mages. Fascinating creatures.

  Also on Lysander’s side, a few tall, dark and brooding men accompany the richly bejeweled mages. Warlocks by their sullen demeanor, black suits and intense gazes.

  “Oh my God, Zillard Dark is here,” Edith says, gripping my arm tightly. Her soft brown eyes are alight, fixed on one of the warlocks, the tallest one.

  “Dark Who?”

  “Zillard, he’s a rising star. Rather young, but very powerful, and especially vicious, they say. He’s the son of Hades.”

  “Hades as in the Lord of Tartarus?”

  “The very same.”

  I glance back to the minotaur family, mythical creature that are fascinating to behold.

  I watch Zillard Dark as we head towards the front of the hall. We have spots reserved at a white table close to the crystal dais, and I can barely believe it when I read Edith’s and my names right next to Zillard’s.

  “Oh my God, I can’t believe this, doll, he’s gonna be sitting with us,” Edith giggles. She’s so anxious her face has gone crimson.

  “You sure seem to know a lot about him. Why the special interest?”

  “He goes to the Major Arcana Academy, with Minerva’s youngest sister, Giselle. He’s a nasty one, everyone has heard about him.”

  I lock eyes with Zillard Dark as a guard holds my chair out for me to sit. The look in his eyes tells me he knows something, and I’m sure he somehow manipulated our sitting arrangement.

  He prowls over like a panther in his black suit, his dark hair slicked back, his eyes black as coals, quite shocking against the backdrop of his skin. He takes his seat by my side with fluid moves, goblet in his hand.

  “Daughter of the ocean,” he says, his deep voice laced with danger. “An honor to be seated at your table.”

  “An honor you’ve ensured yourself, am I right?”

  Edith stiffens by my side, but Zillard smiles, revealing white teeth. The canines are longer and sharper than the others. A predator, all right.

  “You’re a quick woman.”

  “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”

  He looks around from under his eyebrows, as if masking something. “Too many curious eyes and ears. In due time.”

  Guards march in, their armor and weapons clamoring, announcing the festivity is about to begin. I steel myself for the entrance of Lysander and Minerva, but it’s old Iridion that takes the stand, dressed in a white robe and leaning on his ivory cane, looking like an angel. An aura of power surrounds him.

  “Dearly beloved,” he begins. I lick my parched lips, praying for the strength to stand this through with dignity. It will take a miracle. “We have gathered here to bless the engagement vows of our King of the Court of Ice, Lord of the Winter Realm Lysander Nightfrost, and Lady Minerva Midwinter—” He goes on to enumerate Minerva’s titles, among which White Lady of the Winter Realm.

  “There are rumors that the King is only marrying Minerva for strategic reasons, is that true?” Zillard inquires quietly, taking advantage of everyone’s attention being absorbed by old Iridion. I lean in just a little.

  “Why do you ask me that of all people?”

  “Because rumor also says you would have been his first choice for a bride.”

  Scenarios of what might have been pop up in my head, which makes my heart twist. My throat cords up. “A load of crap. The King only cares about power. So you can tell Minerva she can relax, I’m not her competition.”

  Zillard must be her guest, and he’s having this conversation with me on her behalf. Maybe she sent him to threaten me not to start anything with Lysander.

  “Actually, I’m here for King Lysander. My father, he and I have a relative in common.”

  “You mean to tell me Lysander has hellish blood?”

  “I’m afraid you’re mixing things up. My father doesn’t rule Hell, he rules Tartarus. Many mistake Tartarus and Hell for the same thing, but Tartarus is a higher realm than Hell. It’s its outer layer, if you like. And no, Lysander doesn’t share the blood.”

  “Then how can you have a relative in common?”

  He grins. “It’s complicated.”

  I keep staring at him, another question popping up in my head. “Wait a minute, if Tartarus is the outer layer of Hell, what does that make the Winter Realm and the Fire Realm?”

  “They’re the poles. Imagine Hell like a planet, and they keep its balance. Tartarus is like the magnetic field around it.”

  Silence falls between us, only Iridion’s painful words filling the air, praising the union between Lysander and Minerva. Damn it, I’m starting to hyperventilate.

  “So, is it true that you met Xerxes Blazeborn in person?” Zillard says, and frankly I’m grateful for the distraction.

  “Yes.”

  He leans in closer, his scent of burnt incense wafting to my nostrils. “Is it also true that, after you escaped the Fire King’s trap, you had an affair with the Lord of Winter?”

  Embarrassment shoots to my cheeks, but I manage to keep my tone even.

  “I told you, those rumors are just a load of crap.”

  “Yeah, I know, but I’m not talking about rumors here. I have informers.”

  I remember the Christmas party at the French inn. I don’t have to sift very long through my memories to understand who it was. I discovered I have a special magic sense that enables me to judge human character very fast. Too bad it doesn’t always work on supernaturals.

  “The innkeeper, he seemed a jolly fellow that liked to tell stories. I wouldn’t take him too seriously.”

  “You can twist and turn it all you want, Lady de Saelaria, but I can smell a lie. You’ve been intimate with the Lord of Winter.”

  Music floods as hall as the men lining the walls raise their party flags.

  Lysander and Minerva step onto a pedestal in fanfare-like music, her hand on his like on a scepter. People burst into applause, white doves and sparkling snow flying into the air. I can’t bring myself to stand, my legs just won’t listen. My heart hurts so bad it seems to shrivel inside my chest, and my fingers clutch at the folds of my dress.

  With the noble fae at the table in front of us standing, clapping heir hands and cheering, I can’t get a clear view of the couple, which is a blessing. All I get is glimpses of Minerva’s gold and silver hair up in an impressive halo of a chignon, her dress shimmering blindingly. As if it weren’t enough that she’s a winter fae, she went for so much bling-bling it makes it hard to watch her.

  Then, between the figures of the standing supernaturals, I glimpse Lysander, and a dagger runs through my heart.

  Everything about him screams ‘king’, especially his large shoulders, and the beautiful golden hair that flows in wild waves. He’s wearing the silver mail that his own flesh transforms into, making him appear to be a statue of liquid metal. His bright blue eyes find me, and for a second it feels like our souls connect. He’s remembering our night together, I can feel it as clearly as I do the breeze on my face. He remembers my touch, my mouth crushed to his—

  “What if I told you there was someone who could lift his silver spell, and restore your power,” Zillard’s voice appears inside my mind.

  My head snaps to him, but he’s not even looking at me. His black eyes are fixed ahead, his lips set. He’s using telepathy.

  “Are you serious?”

  He nods, just slightly. I can feel Lysander’s eyes drift from me to Zillard, but the noble fae at the table in front of us shift, and disrupt his field of vision. I reach down into my core, tapping into my telepathic powers.

  “Anyone who tries to lift the silver spell that Lysander put on me dies. At least that’s what he told me.”

  “It’s true. The only
way to break the spell is by killing Lysander, but judging by the way you look at him, I don’t think you want that.”

  Was one glance at Lysander enough to betray my feelings for him? I square my jaw and my shoulders, holding my ground like I don’t care, but on the inside I’m giddy as hell.

  “I would like to get my power back—it’s mine, after all. Lysander had no right to bind it, seal it away somewhere where I can’t reach it. But I would never have him killed, even if I could, because I don’t want his blood on my hands.”

  “I wouldn’t even dream of suggesting that you have him killed. I don’t think you’d find anyone willing to even try anyway. He’s one of the most dangerous fae that ever lived. But I know someone who can help you regain control over your powers. A sea creature with more command of magic than anyone, even Lysander.”

  “Who?” I’m growing dangerously excited. I can already see myself reveling in furious ocean waves, high and deadly, waves that could tear this very castle apart.

  “The sea witch.”

  His words crash into my mind, taking me by surprise.

  “I must really look like an idiot to you, Mr. Dark,” I hiss through my teeth, raising my eyebrows at the warlock. I don’t even know what angers me more, the disappointment because I got my hopes high for a second, or his taking me for a fool. “The sea witch would kill me on sight. She is the one that caused my family’s demise.”

  “And she is the one best suited to restore your rightful powers.” He gives me a crooked, cunning smile. “Of course, she will want something in return.”

  “She. Wants. Me. Dead.” I look daggers at him. “Reaching out to her would be like swimming right into the jaws of a shark.”

  “Look, Arielle, it’s been thousands of years since the sea witch wiped out the ocean king’s family, and she’s still not ruling the seas. She held the Trident for very little time before someone else claimed it. Do you know who runs the seas these days, by the way?”

  “I wasn’t aware that someone did.”

  He gives a low laugh. “There can never be order without authority, that’s a lesson I suggest you learn fast. The seas would be a boiling warzone if Calabriel Seawrath didn’t hold those reins tightly.”