Frost wished she could be that optimistic, but with everything in her past, it was much more natural for her to be the opposite. Pessimistic, through and through, she was. Even if she managed to bring them all to the castle, there was no telling whether the Jewel would remain. Maybe it ceased to exist once winter exploded from Wysteria’s heart.
From her heart. Winter had exploded from her heart.
Such was the truth of it. Wysteria had not been lost because of accidental magic. That day, when her parents had wanted her to be introduced to the kingdom as its official next queen, Frost had done something she regretted to this day. She’d felt the magic building up, her emotions swelling out of control. She knew what was happening as it happened, because she’d wished for it. To avoid the responsibility she would know as queen, to avoid the dreary, dull years that would be her life, to end it all.
Wysteria did not fall accidentally. Frost had yearned for it, naively wished for it. Wysteria fell because she wanted it to.
Chapter Thirteen
They’d been traveling for days. Hale had forgotten how miserable it was to be cold all the time, even with his coat on. The others kept their complaints to themselves, taking up their time with watching Frost. There was little else to watch as they made their way through Wysteria.
Frost was obviously more comfortable in the cold; she’d taken off the gloves and given them back to Hale, who jokingly complained the insides were riddled with tiny icicles. She smiled more often, laughed more often, too. Maybe she was thrilled to be back in Wysteria, or perhaps, Hale allowed himself to think, she was happy because she was with them.
Not only their travel companion, not only the person they were sworn to protect and escort to the Jewel, but also theirs, in every meaning of the word.
Theirs.
It still had a strange ring to it, but it was one Hale was slowly coming to accept. What helped, he was sure, was the fact that Frost had never been with a man before, thus she acted like she wanted to take things slow. Hale was fine with that, mostly because he wasn’t sure how anyone could have sex while they were freezing their backsides off.
Frost had made a clearing, using her magic to push aside the snow and ice, allowing them the space to build a fire. They were camped for the night, and judging from the map tucked tightly in Noel’s clothing, they still had a long way to go before they reached Wysteria’s castle. This journey would’ve gone much quicker if the roads were clear of snow, and if they had horses. Oh, yes. Horses would’ve made this whole thing much more bearable.
But, that said, Hale shouldn’t complain. He was with his friends and the woman he liked, even if she could be hot and cold sometimes. Mostly cold.
Frost was off playing with Blue, and Douglas was away relieving himself far from camp. Hale and Noel sat near the fire, the rabbit Blue had caught roasting above the flame. Constantly eating over a fire was not something he was a fan of. Spices, fruit, vegetables—all things Hale was a fan of. All the things he missed while on the road, which he was more often than not.
If they convinced Frost to return to Springvale with them and leave Wysteria behind, would he become a homebody? Would he quit the guild? Hmm. Such were things to think later on, he supposed, because that was assuming they even convinced her. Maybe they wouldn’t. Maybe Frost would refuse to leave Wysteria.
But then what? They couldn’t just leave her here alone, could they? Not when their hearts were on the line, not when they each cared for her more than words could say.
Noel’s amber eyes lingered on the cackling flames. His eyes were a lighter brown, warmer than Hale’s. Hale’s were only a shade below being black. “I must admit,” Noel muttered, “I do grow tired of this constant traveling, especially in this weather. The cold just makes it worse.”
Hale felt his lips curve into a grin. “You best not let Frost hear that.” She had a habit of hearing things she shouldn’t, though, so he wouldn’t be surprised if she strolled up at that exact moment.
“I like her, but I do not like this cold.” Noel pointed at the flames, and as if in response, the fire flickered. “Okay, I swear I did not do that.”
Hale smirked. Obviously not. It was clearly the wind, but if Noel wanted to start believing he was sprouting magic too, let him. It would be good for a few laughs. He was about to remark on it, make fun of Noel or at the very least chuckle…but a chill swept over him, causing him to freeze. Not literally freeze, but stop what he was about to do.
The air grew cooler, and the fire grew smaller. Noel noticed it too. His hood was up, his facial mask on, but Hale could still see the white wisps coming from his exhalations. “Do you feel that?” Noel asked, cocking his head. His fingers twitched toward the knives on his chest.
Hale tensed, reaching to his back and retrieving his bow. “Yes,” he said, “it got colder.” The stranger thing was, Hale hadn’t heard anything. The air just dropped a tangible amount of degrees…something like that didn’t just happen. Not so quickly.
A howl rung out in the distance, and Noel and Hale leaped to their feet, weapons ready. They ran right past the great sword stuck in the ground, rushing toward the howl. It did not sound like Blue’s howl. If anything, it sounded raw, unnatural…otherworldly. Couldn’t be good.
Hale and Noel spotted Douglas in the snow, his arm leaking red. A pack of seven wolves surrounded him, one of them wrestling with the warrior, trying to snap at his throat. Hale drew back an arrow, and Noel unsheathed a few throwing knives.
“Douglas, stop moving!” Noel called out to him.
“Hard to do,” Douglas shot back.
Blue and Frost ran up, freezing the moment they were at Hale’s side. “What…” Frost trailed off, probably because she’d realized the same thing Hale had. Those wolves…they were not natural wolves.
Their eyes were black where they should’ve been white, their irises the color of ice in the sun, near colorless. Their teeth seemingly hung further out of their snouts, but only because they were too long, too jagged. Their teeth were halfway between fangs and icicles, and their fur…their fur was a cross of hair and snow, the ends seeming to glimmer into ever-flowing wisps.
These were not natural predators. These were wolves twisted and changed from nature’s original design. They were like demons from a nightmare, and Douglas was currently struggling with one while the rest of the pack watched, practically dripping anticipation.
The minute Frost appeared, the rest of the pack turned their eyes on her, baring their icy fangs and slowly approaching her. Blue moved between them, his white hackles raised, a low, menacing growl escaping from his muscular chest. Frost herself looked stunned, as if she’d never seen something like this before. Hale didn’t think any of them had. These were new creatures.
As the pack advanced on her, Hale swung his taught arrow toward one of the wolves encroaching. Frost held up a hand, trying to use her magic to stop them, but nothing happened. No snow whipped up, no wall of ice. The wolves didn’t even blink at her attempt. If these wolves were born of winter, she should have some control over them, shouldn’t she?
One of the wolves lunged at Frost, and Hale let loose the arrow. The arrow soared, landing in the neck of the attacking wolf. Blue darted at the one nearest him, sinking his ivory fangs into another’s throat. While Hale readied another arrow, Noel helped Douglas with the one still wrestling with him. The quick assassin leaped into action, straddling both Douglas and the wolf on the snowy ground as he grabbed the wolf’s icy head, dragging a knife along its neck and tossing it aside.
Once Douglas was up, cringing as he studied his bloodied arm, Hale and Noel, along with Blue, made quick work of the remaining wolves. They fought until the strange animals were dead, and it was only when the entire pack lay annihilated that Hale felt himself relax, though he did not stay relaxed for long.
Noel was kneeling over the corpse nearest him. Even after the wolf’s death, its fur still looked magical, half hair and half snow and ice. He studied it, sliding his w
eapon back into its place. “They’re not bleeding,” he commented. He glanced to Hale and then to Frost. “If they don’t bleed, they were never alive to begin with.”
Such was what logic would say, but Hale knew that in Wysteria, magic had a hand in everything. There might not be an explanation to this.
Frost was busy studying her hands, her eyes widening, a strange expression on her face. “I don’t understand. I don’t…” She swayed on her feet, her lips parted slightly. Before she was able to say anything more, she collapsed, Blue catching her on his back.
Hale sheathed his bow, going to grab her off Blue while Noel looked to Douglas. Noel spoke, “Whatever this was, we need to be on high alert. Frost’s magic can’t control them. There might be more of them out there, or there might be something worse.” And that wasn’t even mentioning the possibility of Fenburn soldiers, but in the current moment, Fenburn soldiers seemed like a nice alternative from magical snowy wolves.
They returned to camp, and Hale set Frost down carefully, swiping the stray bits of hair that had escaped her braid out of her face. She appeared peaceful, but Hale knew something was wrong. One did not simply pass out for no reason. No, if he had to guess, he would say she passed out because of her magic. Was it fading, or was she just losing control?
Hale wasn’t sure which would be worse. If it faded away entirely, would she die, or would she simply be magic-less? If it was the latter, and she was losing control of it, was there any way to help her, or was she a lost cause? He didn’t want to lose her to death or to her magic. He didn’t want to lose her at all. If he did, he knew there would be a hollow feeling in his heart until the day he died. This woman had found herself a place inside him he never knew was vacant before her.
Frost completed him.
Douglas and Noel were near the fire. Douglas was busy shrugging off his coat and his shirt, peeling off the sleeve to reveal numerous bite marks on his flesh. More scars to add to the collection. It was probably the last time he’d go to relieve himself without his great sword at his side. Noel was busy holding one of his throwing knives over the fire, letting the flames lick its underside, heating up the metal and sterilizing it. They were too far removed from society, and they’d packed light, so there was little else to do but cauterize the wounds on Douglas. Might not be the best thing to do, but at least it would stop him from bleeding.
Douglas was frowning to himself. “Things might only grow worse the deeper into Wysteria we go.” The cool wind licked at his black hair, his eyes crinkled as he watched Noel with the knife.
“I’m sure they will,” Noel agreed, amber eyes flicking to Douglas. “But we’ll handle it.”
“And Frost? What if she doesn’t have the strength to keep the cold at bay? What if she can’t get us into the castle?” Douglas glanced behind him, at Hale and then Frost’s unconscious form. Blue had curled up beside her, whimpering as he watched her. “I don’t want to push her too far.”
Noel was quiet for a moment, but he said exactly what Hale knew he would: “We have a job to do. Get the Jewel and bring it to Queen Amara. We have no choice.”
“And what if this job kills her? What if we force her to do something that she can’t survive?” Douglas’s low voice sounded stern, concerned, laced with a worry Hale knew all too well. They each cared for her, that much went without saying. None of them would see her hurt, dead or lost to her magic.
“She’s strong enough to handle it,” Noel replied quickly. Whether or not he truly believed his own words was anyone’s guess. Hale assumed he simply said it hoping to convince them all of it.
Hale remained by Frost’s side as Noel slowly lifted the knife from the fire. He brought the hot metal to Douglas’s arm, not hesitating a moment before pressing the blade flat against the wounds. Quick and short, he applied the hot knife against every hole. Douglas bared his teeth, letting out a stifled grunt of pain as his skin seared and steamed. Hale knew it was not the first time he’d been cauterized, and odds were it would not be the last.
“We’ll do what we have to,” Noel whispered, finally done cauterizing.
Grunting, Douglas went to put on his shirt and coat again, bundling himself up. He let out a wince as he shoved his injured arm into the sleeves. He would be wincing for a good long while until the wounds completely healed.
Hale’s gaze rested on Frost, on her unconscious face. “We always do what we have to,” he whispered, earning himself the stares of both Noel and Douglas. “But this job is different. This isn’t about protecting a farm or assassinating a rogue merchant. This is her life, and I’m not going to destroy it all to get some damned Jewel.”
Douglas’s gaze fell to the ground, while Noel continued to look at him. Noel said, “I don’t want to see her hurt either, but we have to try. If we don’t, Fenburn will attack sooner or later. King Stentar isn’t one to let failure stand in his way. If he wants this land, he’ll take it, with or without the Jewel. If we bring it to Queen Amara, it’ll show her rightful reign over Wysteria, and the other kingdoms will have to back her over Stentar.”
Hale knew enough to know what Noel wasn’t saying outright. Getting the Jewel could save the lives of many. What was one life, Frost’s life, when compared to the multitude of lives in Springvale? To the soldiers of Fenburn who were only doing what their king demanded? If only one life could save all those others, wasn’t it worth it? Hale didn’t know. He wasn’t a philosopher. It wasn’t a problem he wanted to solve.
All Hale knew was that he cared deeply for Frost, and he would do anything to keep her safe. Whether or not that meant he would go against his friends to protect her, stop her when he knew her magic might kill her, well…that remained to be seen. Like Noel said, he would do what he had to.
Before anyone could say anything more, Frost gasped, her eyes flying open. She struggled to sit up, and Hale set a hand on her back, helping to keep her upright. Her eyes quickly darted back and forth, as if she was lost to her own thoughts.
“What’s wrong?” Hale asked while Douglas and Noel moved beside her. Three men who all cared for her, though one of them still had his eyes on the job a bit too much.
“Are you alright?” Douglas asked in a grunt, having moved his injured arm.
“I was…” Frost paused, clearly finding it difficult to speak. “I was in the castle. It was like a memory, but it wasn’t. My mother and father were there, and they were talking to this woman. I’ve never seen her before, but it was as if I knew her. I recognized her, deep down. She told them it wouldn’t last forever.”
Noel’s brows came together. “What wouldn’t last forever?” It was the question of the night, something Hale suspected meant more than whatever its surface answer would be.
“I don’t know,” Frost muttered, her full lips curving downwards into a frown. “I don’t know what she meant, but I think…” Her eyelids closed, and she breathed in a deep lungful of air, her chest rising. “I think she was the one who gave me my magic. She had white hair, blue eyes the color of my ice, and I just…I knew her. Deep down, I knew her, even though I’ve never seen her before.”
A witch of some kind. Women like that were thought to be extinct, weren’t they? It was long considered fact that humanity had lost its link to magic, but maybe there were still those recluses out there who could summon magic at will, who were attuned to nature more than anyone else.
If that was true, if a witch had given Frost her magic, it meant she was not born with it—it meant she was cursed with it.
Frost turned to them, an expression of sheer terror on her face. “What if she was talking about my magic? If my magic won’t last forever…what will happen to me?” One of her hands moved to her chest, resting above her heart.
Neither Hale, Noel, or Douglas had the answer for her.
“Those wolves didn’t listen to me, and that snowman,” she recalled her and Noel’s first encounter. “If it’s fading…” Her eyes widened, and she met stares with Hale.
Hale put two
and two together. If her magic was fading, it was quite possible that whatever magic kept others out of the Wysterian castle was fading as well. Maybe she was no longer needed to get to the Jewel. Perhaps Fenburn soldiers could retrieve the Jewel themselves without her help. If anything could light a fire under their asses, it was this.
“I’m sorry,” Frost whispered. “I need some time alone. Could you…” Her light voice trailed off, and they got the hint.
Hale followed Douglas and Noel to the fire, and when he tossed a look over his shoulder, he watched Frost erect a small hut of ice around her, shutting her out from the rest of the world, from them. Only Blue was allowed inside, apparently.
They were silent for the longest while, watching the tendrils of fire flitter in the air. None of them knew quite what to say, probably because none of them wanted to speak. If her magic was not limitless, did it have a time frame, or did it fade faster the more she used it? Either way, Hale supposed it didn’t matter much.
This job, he realized, could very well kill her.
Chapter Fourteen
Frost didn’t want to reveal to the others how weak she truly was. Yes, normally anger was the emotion that controlled her the most, but tonight, here and now, it was sadness. She was sad when she pictured the white-haired woman, depressed when she thought about her magic running out. After all this time, after wishing for so many years she was normal and magic-less, she was scared of what it could mean.
If her magic ran out, would she die?
Blue sat beside her, his sapphire eyes sparkling. Blue was connected to her magic, too. If Frost perished, what would happen to Blue? Without her magic, he would’ve died as a pup. She reached for him, pressing her face against his soft, white fur as the tears began to form in the corners of her eyes. Thinking about Blue dying was even worse than thinking about her own death.
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