by Ana Calin
“Calabriel Seawrath.” I knit my eyebrows. “Who is that?”
“The Steward of the Sea Court. Without a living descendant of the ocean king, the castellan’s family overthrew the sea witch and kept the power. He wants nothing more than to be crowned king, but that’s impossible.” He gives me a quick once-over. “You exist, so the great sea magic never rose to occupy his veins. Still, he commands great armies of merfolk, and would make a great ally against Xerxes. But, as you can see, he wasn’t even invited to the engagement ball.”
“That sounds extreme, somehow. There must be a grave reason for that.”
“There is. Minerva handled the invitations. Calabriel and Minerva have been sleeping together for years.”
“They’ve what?” I yelp in shock, which draws attention. I clear my throat and return to telepathic communication.
“Then why the hell did Minerva demand to have Lysander, if she was already involved with Calabriel?”
Zillard laughs quietly, but seems genuinely amused. “Calabriel will never have real power, Arielle. He is not the rightful heir of the sea magic, he’s from a family of castellans. He’ll never acquire real status among supernaturals and, to be honest, Minerva’s family would have never accepted the union. Besides, I think she’s developing an unhealthy obsession for your Lysander.”
My Lysander. I feel the truth of those words so deeply, that I can’t even contest them to save face.
People clap their hands as old Iridion finishes his speech, coiling a silver cloth around the joined hands of Lysander and Minerva. I swallow down the painful knot that scrapes my throat.
Applause explodes from all around, filling the glittery room. Natural earthy and mossy fragrances waft around me, the sea breeze teasing my senses, but I can’t enjoy it. Lysander’s union with Minerva hurts so much it’s hard to breathe. It doesn’t help that I feel his eyes on me as the ball continues into the night, flowing music enticing dancers to glide over the marble dance floor.
Thirsty for answers, I look around for Zillard, but he’s nowhere to be seen.
I mix with different clusters of fae, meeting people, determined to find him, but I’m only pulled in deeper with the people. The woodland fae seem eager to meet me, some of them even happy, but the shifters and witches keep a suspicious frown on their brow. I can hear them as I pass by, their whispers reaching me like the breath of ghosts.
I hadn’t wanted to believe Zillard, but he was right about the rumors. He’d actually gone easy on me. What reaches my ears is a different version—apparently I’m shamelessly chasing Lysander, while he remains completely uninterested; how could the mighty King of the Court of Ice, the Lord of Winter and King of Frost, ever lower his standards to a half-fae of twenty-two years, no matter her heritage. Heiress of the ocean king or not, I’m still a hybrid, half human, and not worthy of the great king, they say.
With clenched teeth, I swear that I’ll take my power back from Lysander. I won’t let him and his people walk all over me like this.
Finally, I find Edith.
“Edith, please.” I take her hands. “Help me find Zillard.”
Edith shudders when she hears the name.
“You shouldn’t keep his company, doll. He’s dangerous. He may seem pleasant to be around, but that’s just a façade.”
“Façade or not, he told me there was a way for me to regain control of my powers without Lysander.”
“Let me guess, it’s something dangerous that could get you killed, right?”
“More or less.”
“Don’t trust him, Arielle.” She grabs my hand, her tone urgent. There’s fear in her eyes, but also a certain reverence for the dark Zillard. “If he’s not even here anymore, it’s because he only came here to plant some crazy idea in your head. You can’t trust Zillard Dark, or anyone in his family, or his coven, or anyone who knows him and doesn’t hate him, for that matter.”
“He and Lysander are on good terms. So I guess—”
“King Lysander rules the Other Side of Hell, a realm as dangerous as Hades’. He and the Darks respect each other, but they’re not friends, trust me.”
I find the strength to lock eyes with Lysander again. As expected, his were already on me. He’s sitting at a royally laden table by the high archways, the big bad winter king on his throne of icicles that look like swords. A king as dangerous as Zillard Dark. No better than him.
“There you are, girls.” Pablo says, technically slamming into poor Edith. Warmth pools around my heart when I see him.
“Been trying to get to you guys for ages, but with all the woodland folk surrounding you like you’re treasure, it was impossible.”
“See,” Edith says, her pretty brown eyes still heavy with worry. “Everybody here knows you’re the descendant of the ocean king, and that you could wield the entire power of the seas. Zillard Dark of all people surely had a hidden agenda with you.”
“Zillard Dark?” Pablo shrieks, looking from Edith to me. “He was here?”
His white hair has started to catch strands of silver, now arranged into a carefully disheveled fashion. He’s wearing a silver tunic like most winter fae, ornate with golden embellishments. But something sets him apart. He wears dark pants with a special sheen that marks Pablo as more feminine than the rest of the male fae in here. His delicate nerdy-scholar face adds to the girly air, too, which is probably why I get this sister vibe from him.
Three powerful knocks echo through the hall. It’s old Iridion, beating his ivory cane against the dais, calling for attention.
“Noble and treasured families, ladies and gentlemen,” he begins in a warm old voice. “As you know, we have gathered here for more than engagement vows between two members of powerful lineages, a royal and a high noble. We have gathered here because we’re facing a common threat, one that has been around for many thousands of years, but that spins out of control now. You all know this to be true.” He pauses to let his eyes sweep over the crowd.
“In the invitation King Lysander and Lady Minerva sent, they didn’t keep any secrets,” he continues. “They revealed their union comes with military commitment to each other, a commitment against a common enemy—Xerxes Blazeborn, whose wrath threatens to tip the balance between the two sides of Hell, or the two Poles, as most of you know them. He’s been waging war against the Winter Realm for many years, but now he’s taking it to a new level. It all started when he demanded the ocean king’s descendant to be traded over to him—” He motions in my general direction, and so many eyes follow him, that the skin crawls on my arms. “With the intent of making her his mate, and using her power. Now, a combination of their powers would have been deadly not only for the winter fae, but for all of us. We all know that Xerxes is a warmonger, and addicted to power. If King Lysander would have conceded his request, many realms would not even exist anymore.
“But Xerxes still wants Lady Arielle de Saelaria at all costs and, with her power, he plans to take over the human realm. And we all know what that means.” Whispers travel through the hall. Worry charges the atmosphere. The Earth is at the center of all layered realms, whoever controls the Earth, controls all the other dimensions. Which is why the Earth is so heavily guarded, and why all supernaturals crossing the border are brutally punished.
Minerva steps forward, and all attention shifts to her.
“Treasured woodland folk, beloved serpent lords, my dear winter folk,” she calls, a true ice queen in her glittery dress. I swallow painfully. “The path and destinies of our families have been entwined for many centuries. We fought wars together, and celebrated together, we shared the good, the bad, and the ugly. Strong relations are based on trust and mutual support. My family has never called on you for petty or selfish reasons. You know Xerxes Blazeborn. Some of you have clashed with him more than once, you know how vicious he can be, and how greedy for power. As we speak, he’s gathering his allies to move against us, and we have to be ready.” She raises a hand in the air, magic crackling in her palm
. “Join the Lord of Winter and me on this quest, and let us ensure balance. Xerxes is unstable, he’s like a human tyrant with a twitchy finger over the button of a nuke. This threat has been dangling over our heads for far too long, and we’ve been far too tolerant. No more. Let us put a stop to Xerxes’ terror.”
The ice lady can sure inspire a crowd, I’ll give her that. I didn’t even notice how tight my lips were until a mage rises from the back, long robes flowing around him along with his black magic. He has the long haggard face of an evil warlock.
“By virtue of the good ties between your bloodlines and mine, Lady Midwinter, King Nightfrost, allow me to suggest an alternative.” His small, bullet-like eyes find me. “If Lady de Saelaria is the apple of discord, then it might be advisable to cut the evil from the root. I know that my idea may sound, how should I say, unconventional, to a certain extent even barbaric, but considering the stakes I’m going to say it anyway—If this problem arose when Lady de Saelaria came into the picture, the problem should cease to exist once she does.”
It takes me a few moments to wrap my mind around what he just said, and apparently I’m not the only one having trouble. There’s a lag between his last sentence, and the first gasps.
“Excuse me,” I finally manage. My hand tightens around the stem of my goblet.
“Please, Lady de Saelaria, don’t take this personally. Your sacrifice would be for the greater good.”
“The greater good? Really, and that is the only solution you could come up with? Forgive me, Sir, if I doubt your pure, non-personal intentions. You could have suggested that I run away, that I should go into hiding, you could have even intervened on my behalf for the Lord of Winter to unchain my powers, and let me use them to protect myself. Instead, your best idea is to kill me. So, no, sorry, I don’t believe you’re interested solely in the greater good. You’re just in the mood for a legal murder.” The warlock’s hollow cheeks grow dark red with rage.
Voices rise, ignoring old Iridion’s demands for silence. Most people are outraged, but some are considering his proposition as a good alternative. Some become vocal, calling out that it should at least be discussed in the Council.
“Enough,” Lysander’s voice booms into the hall, sweeping like a rippling wave through the crowd. He instills fear as he rises from his throne, his wavy hair glowing like rivers of gold. “Killing Arielle de Saelaria would only give Xerxes a pretext to attack with all he’s got. You’re not the first one to come up with that idea, Mage Igarus, I have thought about it myself.”
Please tell me he didn’t just say that. A black nightmare has eclipsed my heart and clawed its way into my brain. I hitch the folds of my dress and run out of the banquet hall, people moving out of my way.
I storm between the guards, up the grand stairway, tears streaming from my eyes. Finally, I slam the doors to my chamber shut, finding much needed privacy. I can’t be around anybody right now, except one person. The only soul that can soothe mine.
“Arielle.” It’s Edith’s voice, muffled from behind the door. “What are you doing? Let me in, unlock the door.”
“Don’t run away from this fight, we’re standing with you.” That was Sandros’ deep warrior voice.
“We’re on your side, Arielle, but you need to be strong and fight this,” Pablo adds.
And yet the man that should be on my side, the only man who ever saw me naked, enjoyed my favors, been profoundly intimate with me, has just stated that he’d thought about killing me himself. I press my eyes shut, unable to cope with the memory of his words, of his face as he said it. It blends in well with the first time we met, when he chained me in his ice magic and threw me in a dungeon to freeze to death.
My friends knock harder on my door. Sandros throws his big warrior bulk against the heavy wood in an attempt to break it down, and he’ll soon succeed. But when he does, it’s too late for me. Just when the door bursts form its locks I step from the window ledge, and into the waves crashing against the castle base.
CHAPTER II
Arielle
The door opens just a little, stopping against the safety chain. Familiar eyes blink at me from behind round glasses.
“By the high realms,” she whispers, and the chain falls off. She opens the door widely, allowing me to enter. I walk inside, every step heavy from my weight. My gown is soaking wet, dripping on the floor. My hair clings to my face, Edith’s elaborate hairdo destroyed, while my hands tremble, my fingers curled in and painful from the cold.
“H-hello, Auntie,” I babble, while Aunt Miriam closes the door behind me. Just as I prepare to explain, she throws her arms around me, bursting into tears.
“My child, my sweet child,” she whimpers, cupping my face and rising on the tips of her toes to kiss my cheeks all over. “You’re here, by the highest realms, you’re here.”
She leads me straight into the bathroom, helping me into the bathtub. I go along with everything she does, my body shivering hard, my teeth chattering. I just sit here in the bathtub like a stray dog as Aunt Miriam cuts the gown off of me with big scissors, until I’m completely naked and bracing my knees to my chest as warm water begins streaming down my back.
Aunt Miriam increases the temperature, thawing my body gradually. It must be over an hour before I finally sit down in my spot at the kitchen table, steaming ginger tea under my nose, my old blanket with unicorns wrapped around my shoulders. Aunt Miriam sits across from me, staring like I’m the crown jewels. Poor woman hasn’t heard from me ever since Lysander took me, and his messengers afterwards had been vague regarding my fate.
“How did you get here from the Flipside?” she inquires, caressing me, full of tears.
“I used the only portal I knew how to use—the ocean. I jumped in.”
“By the high realms! That could have gotten you killed!”
“I just had to get out of there. I couldn’t take, his, his—” I burst into tears, burying my face in my palms.
Aunt Miriam cries with me, taking me in her arms. I can feel her love permeate my soul, and it’s what gives me the strength to tell her the story. I only manage a short version, though. Lysander the Lord of Winter discovered I was the ocean king’s descendant; first he wanted to trade me over to Xerxes the Fire King, but changed his mind when he realized that Xerxes already had a way in place to trick himself out of his oath never to attack Winter Realm, and would instead use me to bring about the end of the world as we know it; he chained my powers for fear I might lose control over them and wreak havoc, and the only way to free my powers from those chains is to kill him—or go to the sea witch.
“No, you must never,” Aunt Miriam reacts as if burnt. “That woman is powerful, and evil, both of them to the extreme. Without your full powers, you won’t stand a chance against her.”
“The person who told me about this possibility says I might have something she wants, something I can use in order to bargain with her. Maybe I’ll be able to strike a deal.”
Aunt Miriam needs time to adjust to all of this. So much has happened, and I can tell it’s not easy for her to take it, even though she’s doing her best not to show that it’s affecting her.
“Think about it, Aunt Miriam. The sea witch had all of the ocean king’s possible descendants killed, or so she thought, but what good has that done her? She’s still not ruling the seas. Now it’s someone else she’s bitter against.”
Aunt Miriam ponders, still stroking my hair.
“I could renounce my title and my reign, allowing her to have both—in exchange for my power.”
“Did your so-called ‘informer’ suggest that?”
“No, it’s my idea.”
“I think you should at least have a clear discussion with whoever put these things inside your head before you do anything. Remember how dangerous it can be. It might be safer to try and persuade the Lord of Winter. Besides, I hate to say it, but he’s right—having full command of your powers without proper training would mean chaos, it could even get you kille
d. But, on the other hand, he could train you, and restore your powers as you go.”
“He could, but he won’t, because he’s an evil bastard.” I push the stool so hard that it crashes against the wall. Aunt Miriam winces, her eyes widening at me as if she can’t believe it.
“A few months in the supernatural world, and you already have superhuman strength,” she whispers.
“I’m angry, Auntie. Lysander Nightfrost and I aren’t on the best terms, so don’t rely on his help. He won’t do it.”
“You’re a hard woman to help, Arielle de Saelaria, especially since you keep breaking the law.”
That voice. Deep and vibrant. Lysander’s voice.
I freeze by the kitchen window, eyes fixed on the irises watching me from the dark corridor. The sharp blue irises of an ice beast. Lysander steps inside, the shadow stripping off of him like a cloak.
How the hell did he know where I was? Did he pick up my trail, followed it to the bottom of the ocean—the portal he himself taught me how to use?
“Do whatever you want with me, but leave Aunt Miriam out of it.” I can barely keep my chin from trembling with a mix of fear and anger, my fingers curling into my unicorn blanket.
“Supernaturals speak in favor of your death at the ball, and the next thing you do is go ahead and break the law again? What in the cursed realms were you thinking?“ He snarls the question, his lip curling over his perfectly white teeth as he walks closer. His presence fills the room. I look him up and down, still trying to understand how he found me.
He’s wearing a tight white shirt that threatens to split open across his bulging biceps, and pants that are just as tight on his legs. He must have grabbed them from some yard on his way here. His hair is still wet from the ocean water.
“How did you manage to use the portal to bring you straight here?” he demands to know.
“I don’t know, I just wanted to get away from you. The portal brought me back up in the lake by the campus instead of the ocean.”
