Ice Queen

by Candace Wondrak

  “We want to kiss you, hold you, love you,” Noel rattled off, not one to let awkwardness stop him from doing anything. “And just to clarify, we each want to have you. Even Hale. Don’t let what he said to you before get to you. He was just trying to be a good man. The thing is, Princess, none of us are good men—and I’ve seen you let loose. You’re not a good woman, either.” And then he…he actually winked.

  Douglas stared at him, mouth agape, wondering how his friend could act so relentlessly brazen.

  Finally understanding what they meant, Frost opened her mouth, saying, “I…” It was all she could say, apparently, for no other words came out. Her stare moved between them, and she eventually said, “I’ve never…spending time with men was the last thing my parents allowed. I had a few suitors, but I never could touch them, and my parents were always watching. I haven’t…I fear I don’t know how to—” She continued to stumble over her words in the most adorable of ways.

  “Be with a man?” Noel suggested, much to the horror of everyone else’s ears in the room. “That’s okay. I’m sure any one of us would be more than happy to teach you.” Douglas prepared himself to witness him winking again, but luckily, Noel kept blinking normally.

  Frost kept quiet, reaching for the tie holding her hair in its braid, yanking it out. She ran her slender fingers through it, untangling it as she worked on braiding it again. It was something she did while thinking, Douglas knew. He also knew both Hale and Noel were as entranced in watching her do it as he was.

  “And afterward,” Frost whispered, when her hair was braided once again, “what then? I would never ask you to stay with me in Wysteria.” Something flashed in her eyes—pain? Hurt? Dreaded anticipation? “I know you have lives to get back to.”

  “That’s the difference between us,” Noel spoke. “We will wear you down, I’m sure.” He meant they would get her to go with them once it was all said and done. They would bring Frost back into Springvale and teach her how to truly live again.

  Or, really, that was the plan. Whether or not it would happen was up for grabs.

  Douglas hoped—no, he prayed they would help her see the light. Frost couldn’t continue to live alone in Wysteria. It wasn’t healthy, and even the queen of ice and snow needed to feel warm every now and then.

  Frost smiled. It was a teeny, tiny thing, miniscule in every way, probably because she thought they would just leave her in the end. They’d been traveling a long while together, yet she still didn’t fully trust them. How could she when everyone in her life had treated her like a second-class citizen?

  Granted, an entire kingdom fell into ruin because of her magic, but that was neither here nor there. If she would’ve had a support system, maybe Wysteria would still be prosperous. Maybe Douglas and the others never would’ve met her.

  That was…

  There was no point in thinking about the past like that now. To do so would only bring heartache.

  “Okay,” Frost said. “But I don’t…my magic spirals out of control when my emotions take over.” She bit her bottom lip, a gesture that drove Douglas crazy. He wanted to crawl to her side, pull her in, and make her forget all her insecurities. “My magic might hurt you, if we were to…” It seemed she couldn’t say it.

  While Noel undoubtedly readied himself to say something inappropriate, Douglas spoke seriously, “We would never do anything to make you uncomfortable. If there’s ever a time when you want to stop, all you have to do is say the word.” He hoped he was comforting her; it was not something he was particularly good at. Then again, he’d done a good enough job that night when she had the terrors, so perhaps he was better at it than he thought.

  Noel added, “Plus, I’m always down for a bit of pain with my pleasure.” Even Hale looked at him at that one. That was uncalled for in every way, and not something anyone wanted to picture.

  Her hands were in her lap, her legs tucked under her backside. “Okay,” she said again, firmer this time. “As long as you guys are certain.” Noel nodded, Douglas gave her an affirmative; it was Hale who didn’t answer. Hale who remained quiet, which drew her blue stare. “Hale,” she whispered his name.

  It was all Hale needed to lower his head. “I’m happy wherever you’ll have me,” he said. “And I am sorry about earlier. I am unaccustomed to having such strong feelings. I should not have pushed you away.” When his black gaze lifted, they locked with hers.

  Douglas felt like he was intruding on someone else’s precious, private time, and he wanted to get up and leave the tent, but he didn’t. He remained in place, as did Noel. He needn’t have worried, though, for Frost only nodded in acknowledgment of Hale’s apology. She didn’t rush to him, didn’t go to embrace him.

  Right. This thing, it was new. It was new to all of them. They would learn as they went, and hope they made the right decisions.

  Chapter Twelve

  Frost walked the halls of the castle, holding her gloved hands before her. She wore a deep blue dress, a color that matched her eyes. Sixteen and still so very young. Inexperienced in every way. If something were to happen to her parents, would she be fit to rule? Would the kingdom of Wysteria accept her as its ruler? She was nothing but magic in the form of a girl. She was dangerous. Perhaps she could adjudicate to Amara…

  Her heels clicked on the stone below as she walked into the great hall. It was empty, save for a few servants scurrying around like mice, working to clean it. New draperies hung from the tall walls, cascading down the stone. Elegant windows sat behind the thrones, illuminating the space, where a crowd would gather to watch the ceremony.

  It was…not something Frost wanted to think about right now, mostly because she didn’t want to do the ceremony. It was mainly traditional, a useless thing. It would only end up being a mistake. That, and she couldn’t use gloves during it. Keeping her magic in line was going to be hard.

  Her mother and father stood with their backs to her, talking amongst themselves. They each wore the same royal blue color, a favorite among Wysterian royalty. Her mother’s dark hair was held up by sparkling pins, her curled ringlets pinned in place expertly. She wore a tiny crown, fastened to her head and her hair. The true crown of Wysteria sat on her father’s head, big and heavy and jeweled. It would be the crown Frost received, once her parents were dead.

  She didn’t want it. She didn’t want any of this. Wasn’t dealing with her magic enough? Did she not already have enough of a burden?

  “I don’t care,” her mother was busy saying, “you know we have to protect it.”

  “Yes, but someday, dear, we aren’t going to be around. Soon enough, she’ll have to learn to protect the Jewel on her own,” her father whispered, holding his hands behind his back.

  At sixteen this was the first time Frost had ever heard of it. What Jewel? Why did it sound so achingly familiar? Surely if she asked them, they would tell her. Frost spoke as she moved around her parents, “What are you two talking about? What Jewel?” Her feet stopped, and as she stood, staring at her parents’ icy figures, she felt her world start to crumble.

  Her mother and father stood tall, frozen in mid-conversation. Their clothes, their hair; the only things that weren’t frozen were the crowns on their heads. Not having anything to hold it up, the crown on her mother’s head slid off, clanging on the floor, while the crown on her father’s head remained in place, purely because of the position his head was in.

  No, she hadn’t done this. She didn’t feel the magic start to take over. This wasn’t possible.

  Frost felt something burn her hands, and she looked down, finding that her forearms and palms were gloveless…and two blocks of ice were creeping up it, encasing her body in a frozen shield.

  “No,” she sputtered, tears forming in her eyes. The tears only froze halfway down, painful in their descent.

  On the far side of the hall, Amara walked in, practically skipping because she was so giddy. She turned her head, spotting Frost and their parents. “Sister, what—” Those two words w
ere all she could get out, for within the next second, she was frozen alive as well, and with the ice growing around Frost’s hands, she was powerless to stop it.

  Frost screamed, wanting to get out of her own head. This was torture, sheer and utter misery. This was her life. She was destined to bring nothing but cold and death anywhere she went.

  Frost woke up to someone gently whispering her name. No light came in beneath the edges of the tent, so she knew it was still dark out. She should still be asleep, though it was difficult to sleep when her dreams were so full of terror and nightmares.

  Douglas leaned over her. She couldn’t see his face because of the darkness, but she could imagine the worry etched in his rough, scarred features. One of his strong hands rested on her shoulder, gripping her hard. “You were having a bad dream again,” he whispered. “Are you okay?”

  She nodded, then realized he probably couldn’t see her. Blue was snuggling at her feet, breathing evenly. Frost had no idea whether the others were awake or not, and she didn’t care. She reached for Douglas, pulling herself into his chest, breathing him in. Not once in her life had she ever seen someone so wide, so strong. The muscles on him were incomparable.

  “Stay with me,” she murmured, aware that he was sleeping not too far away to begin with. There was just something different about feeling his arms around her, knowing he was there. Frost almost felt protected, almost. It was a nice feeling, being able to relax.

  He nodded, and without another word, they lay on their sides, Frost tucked right into the creases of his chest. And such an impressive chest it was. She remembered seeing it, touching it, feeling the muscles rippling under her fingertips. It made her warm in places she’d never paid much attention to before.

  Frost let out a content sigh, feeling Douglas’s arms tighten around her back. A selfish part of her never wanted this moment to end. No more nightmares, no more quests to find the Jewel. Just this. Some people, she knew, had an easy life. Some people got to enjoy their life. She was never one of them, and even though being with Douglas like this was nice, she knew her future held nothing but despair.

  These men would leave her. She knew it, without a doubt, but that was alright. Frost could still learn to enjoy the short time she’d have with them. These men might be the only friends she’d ever know, and most definitely the only men she’d ever know. Really, what was some heartache later if it meant she got to experience what life had to offer now?

  Not once had she ever thought about being with a man in more than just a fleeting thought. Frost had never put much effort into daydreaming about it, mostly because her thoughts were full of the horrors she’d created, and the fact that she knew it was never going to happen. The only reason she was here, with them right now, was because her sister needed something from her. If Amara had not sent for her, it was quite possible she never would’ve kissed a man before she died.

  Sad, but true.

  Sad, but then again, most of her life was sad. It was nothing new.

  Even if this was just a relationship out of convenience, Frost didn’t care. She’d hurt later, but she’d deal with it later. Right now, she only wanted to do what felt right—and feeling Douglas’s warmth, having his arms around her, it was the rightest thing in the world.

  There was less fabric between them than there was that first night, and Frost was more comfortable in his arms, which was why she did not hesitate to tilt her face up to his neck. His beard scratched at her forehead, but she didn’t care. Her hands traveled up his neck, one of them tangling in his hair. Letting out a soft sigh, she tilted his face to hers, finding his lips in the darkness. There was no pulling back on his end. No telling her they shouldn’t embrace like this.

  Oh, in this moment, there was nothing Frost wanted more. In all her life, she’d been so deprived of bodily contact. Even though she still wore gloves and her leather ensemble, this was more than her parents would’ve ever allowed. Bare lips touching hers? It would’ve been blasphemy, years ago—but today, tonight? Tonight it was needed. Tonight it was necessary. Tonight it was everything Frost wanted and more.

  Douglas, never breaking their lip lock, moved them so that her back was flat on the ground, on the sleeping roll she’d chosen. He moved his body on top of hers, drowning her in everything that was him. One of his hands held her neck gently, the other made its way down her side. He was so warm. So unbelievably warm. How could his skin feel so hot on hers? Did she feel as cold to him as he felt hot to her?

  Whatever. It mattered not, for it didn’t seem to bother him. Maybe he ran so warm her coldness bounced off of him. Although, with him positioned above her, his body pressing down upon hers, Frost was growing hot herself, too. Well, that was certainly a first.

  The space in her lower gut burned, and Frost found herself spreading her legs. She didn’t want to throw it all down and go all the way, but by the kingdoms, touching him, kissing him, simply felt too good. Too primal. It was like her instincts took over, instincts she never knew she had before now.

  To say it felt good was an understatement. A fire burned within her, something she’d never felt before. Frost wanted to shed her gloves, take off her clothes, to see if it would help quell the flames in her gut. This kind of heat was almost unbearable, feeling so good it hurt.

  They didn’t go further. Douglas probably wanted to, but he didn’t try to. Whether or not it was because Hale and Noel were not that far from their current position, Frost couldn’t say. All she knew was that eventually they stopped kissing, her lips burned a bit, and they slept through the rest of the night in each other’s arms. It was remarkably nice.

  By the time the sun rose and it was time to get up and make their way back to the borders of Springvale, Frost was ready. She was as prepared as she would ever be. Though the land of Wysteria held a lot of pain for her, it was also home. She could take off her gloves and not worry about icing an entire kingdom, and she was certain Blue missed its tundra and snow, too. Blue was an animal of winter; he looked out of place surrounded by green grass and warm, temperate weather.

  Hale and Noel didn’t say anything when they woke to find Douglas spooning Frost, which was just fine. Frost wasn’t sure what she’d say if they questioned her on it. She wasn’t sure if she needed to say anything, because hadn’t the men agreed on this last night? The guys did share a meaningful look though, and it was a shared look she happily ignored, focusing her mind on getting back to Wysteria.

  As much as she liked the warmth Douglas and these men brought her, there was something else to be said about how at home she felt surrounded by ice and snow.

  Once everyone was ready to depart, they exited the tent to find the soldiers packing up. Horses were attached to wagons, half of the other tents already folded up. Amara was busy talking to a pair of men, sounding very much like a queen as she told them to be careful with the items in her tent.

  “As if anyone would break anything of yours purposefully,” Noel spoke with an exaggerated tone, a sly smile spreading across his face as Amara turned to view them. She still wore trousers and a loose tunic, clothes that would’ve looked strange on any other woman, let alone a queen.

  Amara was…she’d always been the one to flaunt the rules. Frost never thought it was fair that she was the one who was held to a stricter set of rules—that she did her best to follow—while her sister got off easy.

  But, no. That was wrong. Amara didn’t get off easy. She lost her family and her kingdom, just like Frost had.

  “You’d be surprised,” Amara said, her green eyes vibrant. Her auburn hair was pulled back in a bun, no crown or tiara on her head. She looked like a commoner, but maybe that was the point. Her people seemed to love her, so whatever she was doing, it was working. “Are you ready to go?” She spoke this question to Frost, causing all three guys around her to stare at her.

  Oh, how Frost had missed having an audience to everything she said and did.

  “As ready as I’ll ever be,” Frost said, flexing her finger
s beneath the gloves. Truly, she could not wait to take them off and feel the breeze on her fingertips once again.

  “Be safe in your journey,” Amara said, moving around the soldiers she’d been speaking to, stopping when she stood before Frost. They were sisters, but they were so very different. In stature, in appearance. Amara was shorter, with more curves, freckles dotting her tan skin. Frost was taller, leaner, more elegant and pale in appearance. Still, they had the same wrinkles around their eyes when they smiled. It was something they’d inherited from their father.

  “I hope the Jewel helps you,” Frost muttered, stunned when Amara reached out and hugged her. Once was startling enough when they first met the day before, but another hug? It was so strange to her, she could hardly react.

  “And I hope you will change your mind about staying with us in Springvale,” Amara said, her arms still wrapped tightly around Frost. She didn’t even bring up the Jewel. It was as if Frost was more important to her, which was mind-blowing. “That wasteland is no place for you, sister. We would be glad to have you.”

  Frost blinked, wondering how Amara could say something like that when it was her fault. Everything that happened to Wysteria was her fault. All those deaths, every house that had lost its owner, was because of her. Her and her magic. If she was not born with such power, Wysteria would still be a prospering kingdom, one of the four in the land.

  She could say nothing to Amara, not without speaking of something she never wanted to. These soldiers, the men around her, her sister—they knew she was the root of the eternal winter, but they had no idea of her true shame.

  An accident, Frost had sworn to herself time and time again. An accident she could never take back, something permanent. For years, Frost had convinced herself that it had been simply one huge accident. After all, a child born with magic, taught to fear her own magic, was bound to break sooner or later, wasn’t she?

  Amara was slow to end the hug, straightening out as she pulled away, giving Frost the kingdom’s largest smile. “I’ll see you soon,” she said, confident that their little group would succeed where others had failed. Failing had not once entered her mind, clearly. She believed Frost and the men would find the Jewel and bring it back to her, securing Wysteria from Fenburn’s reaches.