Aeralis (26 page)

Jonn recovered from the Sickness but never regained the use of his leg as he’d hoped. His seizures did lessen considerably, possibly due to the mothkat bite. He was elected Mayor, and under his guidance, Iceliss flourished and grew.

Ann eventually sold Korr’s house and returned to the Frost, and slowly, she was accepted into Iceliss once again. She refused numerous offers of courtship as she mourned Korr’s death for two years, but eventually, I noticed that she began to linger at Jonn’s side at parties and gatherings, listening to his ideas for the village and adding her own. Their romance grew quietly, and they were married shortly before the birth of my first daughter, Eloisa, a girl with hair and eyes as dark as her father’s. My second daughter, Jonna, was born only a day before Jonn and Ann’s son, Meridus, and they grew up as close as if they were twins, playing hand in hand in the Frost and whispering secrets at Assembly.

Ivy never married, and that suited her just fine. She remained the beloved aunt to Eloisa, Jonna, Meridus, and the soon-to-come-after little Camilla. Eccentric and playful, Ivy preferred the company of her Watchers to the rest of the world. She formed a school in the wilderness and took apprentices to learn the ways of the creatures that we’d once regarded as monsters. She grew wise and revered among the villagers, taking the name Keeper and forming a new legacy for herself that she passed on to the students she trained.

Borde had reprogrammed the gate to be able to return to the past, and our easy connection with Astralux was lost. Still, travel between the two locations grew steadily. Doctors and teachers came to Iceliss, and the village expanded. Frost dweller children went to university in Aeralis, and Aeralian students came to the Frost to study and learn about Echlos and the Watchers.

Aaron stayed in the Frost and, with time, he became a loving grandfather. His favorite pastime was regaling his grandchildren with stories of the Frost’s ancient past and the amazing devices that had filled that place. They did not often believe him, I fear.

Over the years, Gabe and I gradually began to speak again, beginning with his greenhouse gift at my wedding. He did not marry, although he and Clara remained close friends and it was always rumored in Aeralian papers that they would soon wed. Adam encouraged me to mend the friendship, and I did so with his blessing. Gabe and I exchanged letters, and our closeness deepened as the rift between us healed. Gabe even visited us sometimes, to the delight of the entire village of Iceliss. Eloisa and Jonna especially loved to see him. Once we even traveled to Astralux to see him in his royal palace, and they were wide-eyed with wonder at the iron bridges and steamcoaches in the streets.

The winter that Eloisa turned twenty, Adam caught a fever that turned into pneumonia. He died in my arms. We buried him in the greenhouse, and I lived with the pain of not breathing for months until one day I could see color again, and my grief was bearable. Time healed me, but slowly.

Gabe’s letters increased during my lonely widowed year following Adam’s death, and one day in early spring, he surprised me in the Frost outside the farmyard, not far from the place where I’d first found him. He told me he was retiring from his place as ruler of Aeralis. The nation was transitioning to a republic, and he would live the rest of his days in peace.

He asked me again if I would marry him, because, he said, love is a perilous dance, but worth dancing all the same.

This time, I said yes.

Look for Fugitive, a Frost novelette telling Gabe’s side of the story, coming fall 2013!

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Kate Avery Ellison lives in Atlanta, Georgia, with her husband and two spoiled (but extremely lovable) cats. She loves dark chocolate, fairy tale retellings, and love stories with witty banter and sizzling, unspoken feelings. When she isn’t working on her next writing project, she can be found reading, watching one of her favorite TV shows, working on an endless list of DIY household projects, or hanging out with friends. She also loves hearing from readers!

You can find more information about Kate Avery Ellison’s books and other upcoming projects online at http://thesouthernscrawl.blogspot.com/.

To be notified of new releases by Kate Avery Ellison, sign up for her New Releases Newsletter at http://thesouthernscrawl.blogspot.com/p/new-releases-newsletter.html, or “like” her on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/kateaveryellison.

AN INTERVIEW WITH KATE AVERY ELLISON

How did you get the idea for The Frost Chronicles?

Frost
was originally supposed to be a short story set in the world of another book series that I have yet to write. In that version, Gabe’s character had magic abilities, and Lia started out as an orphan living alone (eventually I added a brother, Jonn, but he was much younger). In the first version, the Frost wasn’t very frosty either. It was an evergreen, mountainous region, not the frozen wasteland from the final version. Basically, the whole thing was unrecognizable except for the core story of a girl who helps a boy fugitive despite her misgivings about it and her social conditioning to fear him.

How many books did you plan to write?

Frost
started out as a short story, but it kept growing and growing until I had enough content for a book, then several books. I thought I would write a trilogy, but by the time I’d finished
Thorns
, I knew there would be more story. I planned to have only four books in the series up until I was half way through
Bluewing
, and I realized there was no way I’d get it all wrapped up in that book. So, I never planned to write five books, but I’m glad I did!

Are you anything like Lia, personality-wise?

Not really, other than the fact that we’re both logical in our thinking, and I think we share a fierce desire to protect the people we love. I’m a lot more like Ivy. I love taking care of animals, reading books, and daydreaming. Growing up, I was always that kid wandering around with her head in the clouds. Not very Lia-like.

Let’s talk about the love triangle.

So, believe it or not, I never intended to write a love triangle. (I’m actually not a huge fan of love triangles because I always pick the wrong person to root for, and then I’m disappointed and mourning at the end of whatever book I’m reading that features one.) However, my characters tend to have minds of their own, and this series was no exception. In
Frost
, whenever I wrote scenes with Lia and Adam, there was this energy between them. I just got the sense that he was pining for her secretly. As I wrote
Thorns
, she started to care about him, too. I debated whether I should pursue it, and it felt wrong not to at least explore this sudden and unexpected chemistry. Plus, I had readers writing to me asking “Is there something between Adam and Lia? I feel like there’s something there,” and I realized it wasn’t just me seeing this. Things unfolded from there. I was truly uncertain about who she “should” choose. I didn’t sit down and say to myself, “This is how it will end.” I let the characters forge their own paths. I had a lot of people weigh in on what should happen, including members of my own family, but I think in the end the characters did what was right for them.

Do you have a favorite character?

Yes! Korr is my special favorite.

Are you planning to write anything else set in the Frost?

Currently, my plan is to write a few stories/novelettes that flesh out the backstory and unseen side-stories of characters like Ann and Korr, Gabe, and Adam.

Anything you’d like to say to fans of the Frost?

Thank you so much for reading and loving this series. Nothing makes me happier than knowing there are readers out there who love this world as much as I do. You guys make every moment of agony while editing and proofreading worth it.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Scott, for being my life-long companion, tireless supporter, and first reader of every manuscript. I’ve already said this a zillion times, but I wouldn’t have published a single book without your encouragement, so I’m forever in your debt for believing in me. I love you.

My family (my parents, siblings, and wonderful in-laws) for talking about my books to practically every person you meet in every doctor’s office and classroom between here and North Carolina, for cheering me on, and for acting like I’m famous. I love you guys.

H. Danielle Crabtree, for being a wonderful editor (and a fan of the Frost). It’s a true pleasure to work with you.

Charles, for your friendship, support, and enthusiasm. Thank you for proofing my manuscript, listening to me talk shop about writing, and being so darn excited about the stuff I do. You are the best friend.

Melissa, for providing encouragement in chats and threads, and for letting me blather endlessly about ideas and plans and finding them interesting. You are amazing. We are going to do great things together with our collective writing powers, I just know it.

Dru, Doug, Daniel, Sarah, and Mackenzie, for reading and saying nice things about the Frost Chronicles. You guys are awesome.

Thomas, because I’m sorry I didn’t name a character after you and then make him a superhero like you asked. Maybe in the next book. It could have been worse, though. I could have named the villain Thomas.

My readers, for loving this world I’ve created enough to read five books about it. I love you all!

Read the first chapter of
The Curse Girl
, available now in paperback and ebook format!

ONE

My father drove me through the woods in his truck, the wheels shuddering over the dirt road while the air hummed with all the unspoken words between us. The tears wriggled down his wrinkled cheeks only to get lost in his beard. The mark on his wrist burned at the edge of my peripheral vision, as if it were glowing.

I sat silent and immobile, a statue, a paper doll, a frozen thing of stone.

When we reached the gate I drew one shuddering breath and let it out, and my father put his hand on my shoulder. His fingers dug into my skin.

“He promised he wouldn’t hurt you, Bee. He
promised
.”

I shifted. His hand fell limply on the seat between us. He didn’t try to touch me again.

Dad turned off the engine and we sat wrapped in the silence. I heard him swallow hard. I slid my fingers up and down the strap of my backpack. My mouth tasted like dust. The car smelled like old leather and fresh terror.

Nobody knew if the legends were lies, myth, or truth. But they all talked about the Beast that lived in the house. Some said he ate human children, some said he turned into a vicious creature in the night, some said he looked like a demon, with flames for eyes.

A trickle of sweat slipped down my spine.

“You don’t—” My father started to say, but he hesitated. Maybe he’d been hoping I would cut him off, but I didn’t. I just sat, holding my backpack, feeling the crush of responsibility slip over my shoulders and twine around my neck like a noose.

Through the gate I could see the house, watching us with windows like dead eyes. Trees pressed close to the bone-white walls like huddled hags with flowing green hair, and everything was covered with a mist of grayish moss. I’d heard the stories my whole life—we all had—but I’d never been close enough to see the cracks in the windowsills, the dead vines clinging to the roof.

Magic hung in the air like the lingering traces of a memory. I could almost taste it. Voices whispered faintly in the wind, or was that just the trees? The knot in my stomach stirred in response.

My father tried again, and this time he got the whole sentence out. “You don’t have to do this.”

Of course I did. Of course I must. I wasn’t doing this for him. I was doing it because I had no choice. With the mark on his wrist, he was a dead man. Our whole family was doomed. He knew it and I knew it, and he was playing a game of lame pretend because he wanted to sooth his own guilt. Because he wanted to be able to look back at this moment every time it crossed his mind in the future and feel that he had offered me a way out. That he’d been willing to rescue me, but I’d refused.

Instead of responding, I opened the door and climbed out. The gravel crunched under my shoes as I stepped to the ground. I shouldered my backpack and took a deep breath.

The gate squeaked beneath my hand. I crossed the lawn and climbed the steps to the house, feeling the stone shudder beneath my shoes like the house lived and breathed. The door didn’t open on its own, which I had half-expected, but when I put my hand on the knob I could feel the energy humming inside it like a heartbeat.

My father waited at the car. I looked over my shoulder and saw him standing with one hand on the door, his shoulders pulled tight like a slingshot.

All I had to do was step inside. One step inside and the mark would disappear. And I could run home. I could outsmart this house. Couldn't I? I sucked in a deep breath and rolled my shoulders.

Maybe I believed that. Maybe I didn’t. Why else had I brought a backpack full of clothes, toiletries?

“Bee,” my father called out, and his voice cracked. I paused, waiting for more. Maybe he really was sorry. Maybe he really didn’t want me to do this...

“Bee, I just wanted to tell you how thankful your stepmother and I—”

My throat tightened. He wasn't going to stop me, was he? I shook my head, and he rubbed a hand over his face and fell silent.