Ice Queen

by Candace Wondrak

  Hugging her. Amara was hugging her.

  “I’ve missed you,” Amara whispered, slow to release her from the embrace. “Come. Let’s sit and talk. There’s a lot we have to discuss.” She led Frost deeper into the tent, to the table where a bunch of bowls and plates sat, full of fruit and other salted meat. Amara sat at the head of the table, watching Frost as she slid into the opposite chair.

  The food…fruit, meat that had been seasoned. Frost had forgotten what it was like, how good food could taste. With Noel’s gloves on her hands, she began to eat, moving slowly to avoid hurting her stomach. She hadn’t had food like this in years.

  Swallowing her first bite of a strawberry, Frost said, “It’s Frost now. I haven’t gone by Eliora since…” She trailed off, fighting back waves of unwanted memories.

  “I understand,” Amara said, ever the kind one. “Frost.” Her lips quirked into a smile, a warm grin Frost knew she didn’t deserve, not after what she did. “I like it. Still wearing gloves, I see.”

  It was a habit mother and father had drilled into her growing up. If she couldn’t control it, wear something that could. Frost was not proud of it, and she instantly felt self-conscious, rubbing her hands together under the table.

  “They’re Noel’s gloves. I asked for them,” Frost said. The truth was she hadn’t worn gloves since that day, when Wysteria fell to her magic. “I didn’t want anything bad to happen to Springvale, or to you.” Always worried about her sister. But then, Frost supposed it was a good thing, for if she hadn’t worried about her, it was quite possible her magic would’ve swallowed her up, too.

  “I’m sorry,” Amara said, having absolutely nothing to be sorry about.

  “So, you’re a queen.” Frost met her sister’s stare.

  “I am. It is…a lot more work than I ever thought it was, but I enjoy it.” Amara smiled. “If only you could meet my husband. Robin has fancy tales in his head about you, that you’re some eight-foot-tall ice woman.” A soft chuckle escaped her, only a tad awkward in its delivery. “I’ve tried to tell him you’re but a normal woman, but he will not listen to me.”

  Frost listened to her go on and on about Robin. She seemed happy, which in turn made Frost happy. If only one of them could be happy, it should be her. She was the better one, the kinder one, the one who had her emotions under control and sated. The one who deserved misery and pain was Frost.

  “I hope Noel and the others didn’t frighten you too much,” Amara spoke, after the topic of Robin had been talked about at length. “I’ve never hired anyone from the guild before, but they have a reputation for being the best.”

  Noel, Douglas, and Hale could hold their own, that much Frost knew. They were each powerful in their own way. Noel was the speedy assassin, with a fancy for small daggers and throwing knives. Hale was the slender, quick archer, able to aim and use his bow in both long and short quarters. Douglas was a man of great strength; his size was evidence of it. Together, they were a trio of deadly men—but even so, they were nothing when compared with Frost’s magic, full-force.

  “They’re nice enough,” Frost said. Almost too nice. They were so nice she was sad when she thought about the future. Having company, knowing warmth—everything was so much worse because she knew they would only leave her, in the end. They had to. They had lives to get back to, maybe even women.

  “Good,” Amara said. “Did they mention why I sent them to find you?”

  “Something about a gem.”

  “The Jewel of Wysteria,” her sister corrected her, watching as Frost slowly ate. “It is a one-of-a-kind object, the type of object minstrels sing songs about. It’s magical, I think. The Heart of Wysteria.”

  Frost listened to her explain it, but she kept quiet, for she’d never heard of this Jewel before. Surely if it was so important to Wysteria, she would’ve heard about it while growing up. Surely their parents would’ve told stories about it, or the servants would’ve spoken hushed rumors of it. Perhaps the Jewel didn’t even exist.

  Wishful thinking.

  Frost took her time in asking, “Why do you want this Jewel? Why is it so important to you all of a sudden?” Certainly, they hadn’t been searching for her for years. This was a relatively recent thing, something new. Something must’ve changed for her sister to be so adamant in finding the Jewel.

  “Wysteria has been a kingdom without a ruler for too long. In the past, in stories, the one who has the Jewel in his or her possession is the rightful ruler of the kingdom,” Amara explained, reaching for a goblet before her and taking a small sip.

  “You are a princess of Wysteria. Claim the kingdom as yours. You don’t need the Jewel—”

  “If anyone is the rightful ruler of Wysteria, it’s you, Eliora. Frost.”

  She winced at the sound of her birth name. “I am no one’s ruler.”

  “Mother and father had faith in you.” Had, being the operative word there. “And I’m certain if they were still alive, they’d still have faith in you. Wysteria was always meant to be yours. Not mine.” Amara did not sound bitter about it, which Frost did not understand.

  “But you want it now,” Frost spoke slowly, careful to not accuse her of anything. She was not only her sister, but a queen as well. There were simply some tones one did not take with royalty.

  Amara set her goblet down, running her finger over the rim. “It is not so much that I want it, more as it is me getting to it first.” Her shoulders rose and fell with a sigh. “I’ve heard reports of King Stentar sending scouts into Wysteria in search of the Jewel. He wants Wysteria’s land and its resources. He’ll be right on our doorstep if he claims it for himself.”

  Frost recalled the soldiers. “He’s doing the same thing you did,” she said. “During the journey here, we encountered a group of Fenburn soldiers. They wanted me.” She shook her head, her braid moving along her shoulder. “I still do not understand why I’m needed to find this Jewel.”

  Her sister was lost for a while, processing what Frost had said. “You’ll have to be careful going back into Wysteria then. He’ll stop at nothing to get you and the Jewel for himself.” Mostly she said all of this to herself.

  “Help me understand,” Frost said, causing Amara’s gaze to snap to her, no longer lost in her own thoughts.

  “He wants you for two separate things, I think, although I’m certain he would settle for one. First, without you, no one can access the Jewel. The Jewel lies in the vault in the castle. We’ve tried getting to it, but it’s impossible. There’s too much ice and snow, and the temperature is even colder. I’ve lost men and women by sending them to retrieve the Jewel. I’m certain he’s discovered the issue, too.”

  Ah, so they needed Frost to temper down the weather, to diminish the ice and push away the snow. It made sense Wysteria’s castle was the worst of it. It was where it all began, all those years ago, where Frost had lost control.

  It was a while before Frost asked, “And the second thing?”

  “Stentar is an old man. He has no heirs because he never married. If he could wed you and get his hands on the Jewel, no one would challenge him as the rightful king of Wysteria,” Amara said, frowning. The frown looked out of place on her face, something strange. “I would never want you married to such a madman.”

  Marrying Stentar. Not only was he as old as her parents would’ve been if they were still alive, but he was mad as a hare, too. The rumors that came out of Fenburn, years ago, were horrid. Frost was sure she hadn’t heard the worst of it since she’d been too young to fully comprehend the magnitude of a vicious king.

  Quite honestly, marrying that bastard was the last thing Frost wanted to do. The absolute last thing. She’d much rather wed Noel, or Douglas, or even Hale. Hmm. Perhaps those thoughts she should not entertain. They’d only lead to heartbreak, although she was quite familiar with it.

  “I would rather die than marry him,” Frost whispered.

  “I don’t blame you on that one. But I do believe, if he were to get his hands
on you, he would either want you at his side or dead, and if he gets the Jewel, it won’t rightly matter which one.” Amara shook her head. Her auburn hair, a honey brown color tinged with the slightest hue of red, tumbled over her shoulders. She wore it down, and its lengths were mostly straight with a few stray kinks.

  “So I help you get the Jewel—then what? You’ll become queen of two kingdoms? Will you invade Fenburn instead?”

  Amara could not disagree swiftly enough, “No. I do not want war. I only want peace for my people. Under banners of war, there is nothing but death and destruction. I would see us prosper. I want what is best for everyone.” A kind, noble thing to say, although impractical. Sometimes war was the only course of action to take.

  “And you think, once you have the Jewel, Stentar would simply leave you be?”

  “If he should try to march through Wysteria, let him. By the time his army makes it through, the cold and snow will have halved it. If he attacks, we will be ready. Until then, we pray for peace.”

  Frost did not know what to say to that, mostly because she was not a fan of the sit and wait approach her sister was using. Sometimes going on the offense was the best defense. Sometimes attacking the enemy was the only way to save oneself from utter destruction.

  Frost ate a bit more, and Amara allowed her the silence, watching her elder sister be a glutton. The salted meat tasted delicious, and it made her mouth water. She was getting Noel’s cloth gloves dirty, but she didn’t care. One good thing that came from this encounter would be her full stomach.

  “So?” Amara asked after a while, breaking the silence of the tent. “Will you help me, sister?”

  She met eyes with the woman across the table. Though Amara was her sister, she felt almost like a stranger. It had been years, and the years had been kind to her. If anything, Frost was the stranger here, having forgotten what being respected and revered was like. Amara held herself like a queen, even in her trousers and loose shirt. She was the queen Springvale and Wysteria deserved.

  It was a moment before Frost nodded. “I will get you the Jewel.”

  “Good, and I trust that you have not grown annoyed with their company?” Amara asked, speaking of Noel, Hale, and Douglas. “They will be the ones accompanying you to the castle, and escorting you back.”

  More time with them. It was both a relief and depressing, for Frost knew the more time she spent with them, the harder it would be to say goodbye. Out of all the words humans spoke, goodbye was the hardest for her.

  Frost nodded, refusing to comment on the men that would be with her for the foreseeable future, fearing that Amara would detect her fondness for them. That’s what it was—a fondness. She found them endearing, even though she shouldn’t. Sometimes the mind and the heart did not work together. This was one of those times.

  “You’ll rest here for the day. Tomorrow at dawn, you’ll depart. If there is anything you need, I will be more than glad to give it to you, provided it’s feasible.” Amara grinned as she added, “A talking snowman is something of your imagination.”

  A talking snowman.

  Frost found herself giggling, almost forgetting all the horror in her past. It had been a joke between them, between two sisters. She was able to give rise to snowmen easily, but a talking one? Voices were impossible when they were not living, breathing creatures. Even snow and ice had its limits.

  “No talking snowmen, got it,” Frost said. Blue was staring at her, cocking his head quizzically. The creature probably had no idea what was so funny, and she wished she could explain. There were some things an animal simply could not fathom.

  “So,” Amara said, leaning back, “care to tell me how you came upon the care of a wolf such as that?” Their formal business meeting was in the past, and Amara was clearly more at ease now than she was before. It was nice, reminiscent of a time long gone.

  Frost clicked her fingers, and Blue got up, moving to her side, plopping down on his two back feet. His large head moved to her lap, and she ran her gloved hands through his white fur. She’d spent so long in Wysteria, alone, that she’d forgotten what it was like to have gloves on, to be unable to feel things without a barrier between them. It was awful, not being able to touch anything.

  But then again, she’d never touched anything important in the last few years. Blue, yes, but it was clear there was some winter magic inside him. She’d never touched a person before…not before Douglas. Feeling his warm skin—it was a sensation she wasn’t used to, not after being alone for so long.

  She wasn’t used to it, but a part of her craved it. Frost wanted to touch him again. She wanted to touch Noel, see if he ran as warm as Douglas, and Hale, too. She wanted to touch them all. By the kingdoms. So starved for physical contact, was she? Wishing to touch three men wasn’t normal. Her parents would be ashamed of her.

  Well, they could only be as ashamed as dead people could. Her mother and father would never know her inner thoughts.

  “I found him when he was a pup, all by himself, abandoned by his pack,” Frost said, scratching around Blue’s ears. The wolf’s tail thumped appropriately. “He was sickly, so I helped him.”

  “He seems to adore you,” Amara remarked. “Robin has his dogs, but I’m not a fan. I’m more a cat person, myself.”

  At that, Blue lifted his head off Frost’s lap to stare at her. If a wolf could give a death glare, he was doing it right now. Must’ve understood the cat bit Amara had said.

  “His name is Blue,” Frost whispered when Blue turned his sparkling azure stare to her. Two blue diamonds twinkling of their own accord. Oh, yes. The winter magic was strong in this wolf, just as it was strong in her.

  Amara smiled gently. “I’m glad you have him. I’m glad you weren’t alone.”

  A shaky breath left Frost as she mustered up the courage to say, “And I’m glad you made it out of Wysteria.” Dredging up the past was a terrible idea, but she said it anyways, wanting her baby sister to know she’d always thought of her. “Until Noel and the others found me, I thought you were dead.” Her eyes started to tear up in spite of her insistence otherwise.

  “And I thought you were lost to us,” Amara said, getting up and making her way around the table, on the opposite side of Frost’s chair as Blue. She grabbed one of Frost’s hands; Frost could feel her sister’s body heat even through the glove. It didn’t affect her like Douglas’s did, but it was still nice. “You don’t have to stay in Wysteria. You could come home with me, after you find the Jewel.”

  It was a nice sentiment, but a useless one. Frost could never call any place else her home. Her home was in the snow and the ice, alone, save for Blue.

  “I can’t, you know that,” Frost said, slowly taking her hand away from Amara’s. “I’d only put you and the entire kingdom in danger.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “I could never do that again.”

  “Don’t blame yourself for what happened,” Amara said. “Mother and father pushed you when you weren’t ready.”

  Frost got up, moving away from the table, away from Amara and Blue. “They were trying to make me a queen,” she said. “They were only doing what they had to.” Making her take off her gloves…in front of all those people. Of course it could only end badly.

  “It’s not your fault,” Amara said. “None of it was. It’s the magic inside you. You’re the only human with magic, Eli—Frost. You never had a teacher. You never had someone to show you how to use it, how to restrain it. You only had mother and father, and they only told you to hide it.”

  Even after all this time, after what Frost had done, Amara was making excuses for her. Frost appreciated it, but at the same time, it was years too late for excuses.

  “After I get you the Jewel,” Frost spoke slowly, deliberately, “I’m going back to Wysteria.”

  Amara stared at her for the longest while, heaving the greatest sigh known to mankind before saying, “Okay. If that’s what you want.”

  What she wanted. When was it ever what Frost wanted? Nothing in her
life had been what she wanted—she was born with magic that she didn’t ask for, given power over an element that seemed to do nothing but destroy. Frost never got what she wanted. Not once.

  Frost was so far removed from the word want that she hardly knew its definition anymore.

  Chapter Nine

  As the day wore on, it was clear the soldiers were thrilled Noel and the others had brought Frost to them. They drank perhaps a bit more than they should’ve, played games when they should’ve been on guard, and did a few other things Frost did not want to detail. She stuck by Blue as she wandered the camp, ever alert. After all, if Fenburn soldiers had tracked her down in Wysteria, it was very plausible they could find her here. She was never safe.

  Safe.

  Was she ever safe? In her entire life, had she ever known true safety? Frost didn’t think so, but perhaps she was biased, having lived through it all. Being told to smile, to fake it, even when her insides were crumbling with magic. No, she’d never been safe. Always in danger, because of her magic. She was constantly at war with herself, ready to implode.

  Her emotions were the traitors. Her inner turmoil was the turncoat. Every single time, it boiled down to not being able to control them, something other people seemed to do without a problem.

  How was it so easy for other people? How could they hold it in? Her emotions always fought to reach the surface, and when they did, they erupted in fits of uncontrollable magic. It was an awful way to live.

  Truly, Frost had jinxed herself. She was walking with Blue, minding her own business, when she stumbled upon a group of soldiers circling a small fire. Most had mugs in their hands. Noel was with them, and he seemed rather chatty, his hood and his mask down, which allowed him to drink from his own mug. A female soldier moved to sit beside him on the grass, setting a hand on his back and leaning in to whisper something. Noel’s ever-growing smile was all Frost needed to see. She could use her imagination as to what was whispered.

  She was off to the side, so Noel didn’t see her. Maybe that was for the best. This was the reminder she needed. She was alone, and she would forever be alone, whether she enjoyed the company of these men or not.