by J. M. Kearl
Astaroth wore a blue long-sleeved undershirt with a black armor chest plate, shoulder guards, and thick-looking black leather pants. Bastian wore a blue and cream shin-length robe with trousers beneath, so I wasn’t sure what the style was.
I hoped I wouldn’t be forced to wear a dress all the time. I’d wear what they asked but, in the meantime, I popped my trunk open. Gideon was nestled among the clothes. I smiled and patted his soft head.
“Be careful. We are in new territory again,” he said into my mind.
I nodded in acknowledgment and pulled out my fur-lined knee-length coat and wrapped myself in it. The buttery pelt against my skin warmed me.
“Did I misspeak?” Astaroth said sharply.
I glared at him. “You spoke quite clearly. But I’m not going to freeze to death while you stand around. If you wish me to wear something else go get it.”
My words hung in the air like a bad dream. Bastian’s worried eyes darted to the Winter Prince, who looked pissed enough to murder me right then and there. Clearly Bastian and I were not on the same page. He told me not to cower.
The black mist I’d grown used to seeing, wrapped around my legs like a serpent and within seconds it circled my neck and I couldn’t breathe. My heart started pounding hard against my chest as panic overwhelmed me.
“Let’s get one thing clear, Princess.” Astaroth prowled toward me. “You are in my world. In my land. If you ever speak to me like that again, I’ll end your pathetic existence.”
I wanted to scream but I couldn’t open my mouth. I wanted to pull air into my nose and into my lungs. It was impossible. I struggled but didn’t move. My magic soared until my skin itched and burned. He was going to kill me. I didn’t know what was worse at this point, no air, or my magic fighting to explode. When Astaroth didn’t release his own magic, I let mine go. He, his mist, and Bastian flew across the small room after being hit with my wave of glittering almost sheer magic. They slammed into the stone and the single chair went with them hitting the wall with a loud thud. The fire blew out and my trunk flipped several times. I worried that Gideon was hurt but I couldn’t back off yet.
I sucked in a deep breath and turned on Astaroth. “Worthless huh? I can play your game too.”
He was still pinned to the wall. My magic held him there. I wanted him to know what it was like to feel helpless, to feel even a speck of the fear he caused me. I didn’t even have to move. I controlled both him and Bastian entirely with my mind. I imagined the force and strength of a dragon pressing them into the stone. If I weren’t careful the wall itself would collapse.
The anger that smoldered in the Winter Prick’s eyes brought me a worthy satisfaction. I wanted him to hate me. I forced him to drop to his knees and I wanted to push his face into the ground like he’d done to Taz and me once. I wanted him to choke and not be able to breathe. I wanted him to suffer for taking my friends, for torturing them, for tricking me, and marking me with tattoos to claim me like I was his property. But I couldn’t. He pushed back—hard. The room itself trembled with pressure building up all around. His mist tried to get to me but I held it off with my power—it appeared similar to a bubble, clear but for a sheen where a rainbow of color might shimmer in certain light.
“Please, stop,” Bastian gasped.
I hadn’t meant to hurt him and it was the only reason I eased off them both.
In three strides Astaroth was in front of me. I rooted myself in place even though my mind was screaming at me to backpedal. He raised his hand and I thought he might strike me. If he did he’d get to see a lot more of my power and I didn’t even know what I was capable of.
“Perhaps,” Bastian cut in sounding short of breath, “it’s best we get Visteal proper attire and then to the castle. The contest starts in two days. The others arrive tonight.”
Astaroth stared at me, lowering his arm. “You go fetch her something to wear. I have things to discuss with my future bride.”
Bastian gave me a weary look. I’d never used my magic in his presence. And I didn’t know if he were afraid of me or afraid for me.
“Stop calling me your bride,” I spit.
Astaroth grabbed my wrists and his marks started to warm. “We will be wed whether you like it or not. The prophecy came about four hundred years ago, the same year I was born. You are the human princess. You are my match in power. It is destiny.”
No, no, no. Screw destiny. “I’d have to win this ridiculous contest first. I’ll lose on purpose. I’d rather die than marry someone as horrid as you.” I ripped my arms from him and shoved him in the chest. He only moved a step back.
“You must win.” His voice lost some of its malice. “You must fulfill your promise. Your people are at risk.”
“At this point I’m almost willing to let your father keep his life and risk my people against yours. Who will be left to fight after the courts go to war against each other anyway?” I was partially bluffing but he called me his match in power. If I were his match and he was the most powerful faerie, perhaps my people stood a chance against the Fae.
“We would destroy your kind.” He grabbed my chin; his fingers dug in so hard I wanted to yelp. “The only reason we let humans live is so we can use them.”
I slapped him across the face as hard as I could. Hitting him was like smacking rock and my hand throbbed but I wouldn’t let him see my pain.
He dropped his grip on me, turned his face away, and took a few steps back. After running his hand through his white hair and tugging on the bottom of his shirt as if to straighten it out, he turned back to me. “We are obviously getting nowhere.” He gave me a smile that he probably thought was charming but it wasn’t.
A knock on the door took our attention away from each other. Astaroth pulled it open a crack then all the way. A Fae woman with purple hair and creamy milk-colored skin walked in holding a bundle of clothes. She wore a white and gray fur sweater and pants that matched her hair. “Sire,” she dipped into a bow. “Bastian sent me with these for your guest.” She hadn’t even looked at me yet.
He took them out of her grasp and then nodded toward the door. She said nothing as she hurried out. Astaroth shoved the clothes into my arms. Then he stalked across the room, righted the chair, and sat, watching me.
“You don’t expect me to change with you in here,” I said in a tone that told him I thought the idea was absurd.
He folded his hands in his lap. “I do, my betrothed.”
11
Visteal
“You have several others supposedly betrothed to you at the moment, don’t act like I’m special.” I held the clothes firmly against me. “Get out.”
He arched a dark eyebrow. “Are you jealous?”
“How did you get jealousy out of what I said?”
He stood, tilting his head slightly. “You are special. None of your competitors have the power to stand against me which means they won’t best you.” He grew a wicked grin. “Would you be upset if I took other wives?”
I narrowed my eyes. “I don’t care how many wives you have because I won’t be one of them.” I gathered the clothes in one hand and with the flick of my wrist started the fire again. “And I can guarantee my husband won’t have other wives.”
“How can you know?” He seemed genuinely curious like it was unheard of to only have one. Pig.
“Because I’d cut his head off if he tried.”
Astaroth smirked. “Can you imagine how horrible life would be, married to a single woman for thousands of years?”
“Not as terrible as being married to you for even a day.”
He started laughing. I couldn’t fathom why.
“Maybe life would be interesting enough with you alone. Your cutting wit may keep me entertained.”
“About five minutes ago you wanted to kill me for it.”
“And about a minute after, I felt your power.”
The lid to my trunk opened slightly and Gideon’s head appeared in the slit. “Stop bantering with th
e fool and send him away,” Gideon said.
I would but I couldn’t figure out the Winter Prick’s change in attitude. I thought we’d tear apart this room and each other before he backed off. “Because I can stand against you, you suddenly like me?”
“Like is a stretch.”
I knew commanding him to leave wouldn’t work, so I said, “Allow me to change, alone, and I’ll go along to this event tonight without a fuss.”
A beat later, he disappeared in a whirl of black clouds.
Gideon hopped out of the chest. “You nearly broke my neck with that outburst of magic.”
I held the clothes up in front of me. “I’m sorry but I couldn’t breathe. Astaroth Nightfrost is a nightmare.” And apparently, I’d be wearing clothes to match the prick. Thick black pants, a long-sleeved blue shirt, thankfully lined with white fur. Instead of an armored chest plate, I had a black corset with silver buckles across the front of my waist.
Gideon’s big green eyes stared at the door. “Let us hope you do not have to actually marry the dreadful thing. Your father would lose his mind and your mother... ” He twitched his tail. “And here I thought it was bad when you started kissing the Hesstian Prince.”
“There is nothing bad about Zyacus or me kissing him,” I argued and slipped out of my coat. I quickly started changing into the new clothes before I froze. “I hope he’s alright. I haven’t heard from him in two days.”
Gideon moved closer to the fire. “It is unlikely he has an abundance of ink and paper to send messages.” He sat quietly for a moment. “I hate winter. What a dreadful place I should end up in. I was a fool not to allow Atticus to come in my stead.”
“I’m glad you’re here, Sir Gideon.” I slid on the black boots also with silver buckles and strapped on my sword. I slid a dagger into my boot. I looked down at my wrists and groaned. I should have buttoned the cuffs before I put my clothes on. I struggled with the buttons when a heavy knock pounded on the door.
With a wave of my hand, the door opened. Astaroth stood on the other side. “How long does it take a woman to dress?” His eyes traveled down my form. “We have a banquet to get to.”
“I’m ready.”
“You can’t wear that sword. It isn’t Fae made. It’s obvious by the hilt.”
“Do you have a spare?” I didn’t go anywhere without a sword, especially not in a foreign land. I had my magic of course but I’d grown used to the comfort of a sword and I knew that if they had kirune here my magic could be suppressed.
“Lucky for you, Bastian has one.” He rested his hand on the handle of his own sword. “Leave that.”
I pulled it from the scabbard and set it gently in my trunk. I hoped I didn’t regret that. When I stepped into the hall and closed the door, I knew this couldn’t be the castle. Across from the room I’d come from was another door, a window to the right end, and to the left the hall led to an open living space. That was the extent of this building.
“What is this place?”
“It’s a cottage,” he said flatly.
I gathered that much but why would he bring me here? Astaroth marched ahead, leading me to the one small living area, with but a sink and table for a kitchen off to the left. To the right, a cozy-looking chair where Bastian sat, and couch where the woman who’d brought the clothes rested. Both shot to their feet when we entered.
“You’ll be joining Bastian on the ride to the castle. It’s not far.”
I thought I’d be arriving with the Winter Prince to the banquet. “I won’t be going with you?”
He grew a wicked grin. “If you want a target on your back.”
I shook my head. The less time I had to spend with him the better. If I showed up with Astaroth, I’d look like the favorite and that would make the nine other women despise me. What I wanted was to be invisible.
“Avoid my father. Don’t speak to him. Don’t even make eye contact,” Astaroth warned. “And don’t even consider trying to kill him tonight.”
I had no plans of attempting anything. I needed to wait for the perfect moment. I didn’t know when that would be but tonight I’d scope things out.
Astaroth disappeared without warning.
Bastian handed me a sword with the hilt made of crystal blue stone. I’d never seen anything like it. The stone was smooth and felt almost like glass but much harder. The blade was silver and sharp at both edges.
After admiring it a few moments, I slid it into the scabbard at my hip.
Bastian tilted his head toward the woman beside him. “This is my daughter. One of the few people who know your true identity.”
The woman with the purple hair smiled. “I’ll be your guide at the castle when my father can’t be around. I’m sure he told you but trust no one there.”
“You must be Aenea,” I said. He hadn’t told me what his daughter looked like but he only had one and I’d memorized his family tree. Bastian never took human wives.
She bowed her head. “I am.”
I looked back and forth between them a moment. I hadn’t had the courage to ask yet but I had to now. “Why are you both doing this? Why do you want the Winter King dead? Why does Astaroth?”
Bastian stepped forward. “You know from our lessons how he is, Visteal. King Valefrost’s reign has been long and terrible. The common folk starve with his high taxation. Humans and lesser faeries are nothing but slaves under his influence. It didn’t use to be that way. The King cares for nothing other than himself. We count on trade with the other courts to survive. As of late he’s taken more than is needed. The other courts grow restless. It won’t be long before everyone is at war and many will die, except for the King, unless you end it.”
That’s a lot of pressure. “Astaroth doesn’t seem like he’d care. Will he make a better ruler?”
“The Winter and Night Prince cares more than you think, but he has his own reasons for wanting the King dead.” He raised his chin slightly. “And if you should stay, with you at his side as Queen, I believe that humans and other faeries can come to a balance with Fae lords. You have great power, Visteal. Long have we waited.”
I swallowed down my nervousness. He already knew how I felt about Astaroth and staying. Not only did I hate the Winter Prince, I had a duty to my own people. I was the heir to my own kingdom. Saving the Faerie realm and the humans here wasn’t my responsibility beyond killing the Winter King to fulfill my bargain. The only reason I was here was for Delhoon. We’d talked about it in our time together. “Shall we go?”
Three horses were saddled and waiting outside the cottage. Surrounding us were giant trees with thick pine needles looming high above. They significantly blocked the light from the sun which explained why I’d first thought it was night. My feet crunched over the icy snow. It wasn’t as deep as I thought it would be. It only reached my ankles, but it was bitter cold. With each exhale my breath plumed a white cloud. It even hurt my lungs to breathe in too deeply. Frost settled in my nostrils.
Even though the shirt I wore was thick, I knew I’d get cold quickly. I also couldn’t leave Sir Gideon here. “Will we be coming back?”
“No.” Bastian put his foot in the stirrup and mounted his horse. “This is Prince Nightfrost’s hideaway.”
“I need to get my things.”
“The Prince will bring them to your room in the castle.”
I looked back. “Well, I need a coat. The cold may not bother you but it does me. And my cat is in there.”
His eyebrows furrowed. “You brought a cat?”
“He’s special.”
“Very well.” He gave me one curt nod.
I hurried into the cottage, and wrapped myself in my fur coat. “You’ll have to ride the horse with me.”
Gideon glared. “I do not ride horses.”
“You can walk I suppose.” I shrugged and grabbed a few other things out of my trunk. I wrapped the kirune arrowhead I brought in thick cloth and put it in my coat pocket. If it didn’t touch me, it wouldn’t drain my magic.
I also stuffed in my other pocket the poisonous plants from home. I didn’t trust the Winter Prick to bring me my things
We mounted horses. After stepping outside, Gideon quickly changed his mind about walking. He sat in front of me and we set off through a thick forest of trees. Snow frosted each tree needle making them appear entirely white. The ground was a frozen tundra. I would have thought vegetation couldn’t survive here but plants and trees unlike anything back home grew out of the snow and ice.
After an hour of riding, none of us had broken the silence. Animals scurried about, birds chirped, and I swore something followed us in the shadows. Something big and hulking, always just out of sight but I’d catch a glimpse of movement between trees.
“Is there something out there?” I asked, seeing the shadow pass again.
“There are many things out there,” Bastian answered.
I wasn’t asking about many things but the one thing following us. I knew he knew it was there. Maybe he didn’t want to say. Maybe he wasn’t worried about it. Bastian was always so stoic, it was difficult to read him.
When a castle on the edge of a cliff came into view, my nerves started acting up. I had no idea what I was getting into. Bastian told me about the competition but even he didn’t know the details of it. He said it changed with every contest.
I tore my eyes from the white-capped castle. “Why hasn’t Astaroth chosen a bride before now? He’s four hundred years old.”
Bastian didn’t take his eyes from the path ahead.
Aenea cleared her throat. “He did once. Over three hundred years ago. The girl he loved—she died during the contest and he called it off.”
Bastian gave his daughter a cutting stare.
She died?! “Why couldn’t he save her?”
“It happened during the night,” Aenea said. “Some say it was King Valefrost himself who poisoned her.”
No wonder he hated him. I couldn’t imagine the cruelty someone must have to do that to their child. “Why would he do that?”
Aenea said in an eerily quiet voice, “Because she was Astaroth’s choice.”
