Enchanted Frost (Frost Series #8) (A YA Romantic Fantasy Adventure)

Enchanted Frost 
(Frost Series #8)

Published by THE
EDGE

THE EDGE is an
imprint of Sparklesoup Inc.

Copyright © 2012
Kailin Gow

All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or
transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical,
including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage or
retrieval system, without the permission in writing from the publisher except
in case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. Do NOT
post on websites or share this book without permission from copyright holder.
We take piracy seriously.

All characters and storyline is an invention from Kailin Gow. Any
resemblance to people alive or dead is purely coincidence.

For information,
please contact:

THE EDGE at
Sparklesoup

14252 Culver Dr.,
A732

Irvine, CA 92604

www.theEDGEbooks.com

First Edition.

ISBN
13:
9781597480529

DEDICATION

To
all who believe in the healing power of love.

Prologue

Kian

I
f
anyone had been looking down at me, from the peaks and heights of the Atlas
Mountains that divided life from death, divided Feyland from the mysterious
Fields, I know what they would have seen. A young man, his face ravaged by
grief, the pale Fairy skin flushing with rage, with sorrow, with pain. A man
who had lost everything.

I know what they would say. The same
thing villagers and passers-by had been whispering for days, now, as I wandered
– aimlessly, lonely, trying to outrun the fear and pain that buzzed like
mosquitoes in my ears. I could hear nothing; I could not think. All I could do
was run. Away from the pain of losing
her.
Away from the voices and the
whispers that had dogged my steps. “There goes Prince Kian. Jilted his fiancée,
don’t you know? They were so in love – I knew such things never end well! His
mother would never have stood for such passion, such weakness. And she’s proved
right in the end. The Winter heir has lost everything because his heart ran too
hot with the blood of desire.”

It was true, after all. Love had led
me to this place. Love had led me into Breena’s arms, her lightly golden skin,
into the crevice at her neck that always smelled like jasmine and bergamot,
where I would lay my head. Led me to her lips that tasted of sweet and tart
berries. Led me to her long chestnut hair which I so loved to curl about my
fingertips. Love had made me weak for her – and for a while it had made me
strong, too. Together, Breena and I had determined that we would reunite
Feyland – and we had! We had ended the war. We had brought Winter and Summer
back together. We had fought off the Dark Hordes, the Pixies, banshees – all
manner of creatures that once populated the pages of my family’s bestiary. We
had restored the Twin Suns of Feyland; we had restored food to the larder of
every peasant and farmer in both halves of Feyland.

And still it was not enough.
That
knowledge coursed through me with the agony of fire.
It was not enough to
make her love me as I loved her.
For my love for Breena was total,
all-encompassing, full of truth. I could never, would never, love anyone as I
had loved her. I would never care for anyone as I had cared for her. I had
never wanted a woman before I felt her hot flesh on mine; I had never wanted
the rousing affections that passion stirred up in me before she inspired them.
She was the only one; she was
the
one. And I loved her with a love that
had grown savage with time, a love that had overpowered all my efforts at
reason, at control. I had been sent by the Winter Court to kill her; instead
she had killed me – slain the rational, cool, calm, collected Kian I  had once
been and transformed me in the stead of that noble prince into a wild
bloodhound, no better than a Wolf, chasing after the sound of her feet and the
lingering smell of her perfume.

But she did not love me the same way.
That knowledge tore me apart. She loved me; she had
chosen
me. But what
did that mean –
chosen
? She had deliberated over the two men who loved
her. She had kissed me and then kissed
him
and then kissed me again,
going back and forth, her heart unable to cleave to one or the other. It was
difficult to be angry with her – for so long I had never been angry with her –
and yet now I found involuntary rage spilling over into my consciousness. She
had not meant to trick me; I could forgive her that much. She had not meant to
make me suffer. But the truth had won out in the end: that Breena would never
love me with the same exclusivity with which I loved her. Her choice of me had
not been a wholehearted throwing of herself, body and soul, into my arms, but
rather a difficult decision between me and Logan.

I couldn’t blame Logan, of course. I
couldn’t blame anyone for loving Breena – and if I was honest with myself I
knew that he loved her as much as I did. It was only luck – sheer luck – that
had made Breena prefer me to him. By a hair, perhaps.
But not by enough.

For I had made that choice – the
hardest decision I had ever made. To leave Breena, to leave the woman I loved,
rather than face a lifetime of jealousy and pain as I watched her wrestle with
her indecision. If Logan could face a lifetime with half of her heart only, he
was welcome to it, but I could not. I could not bear a life with her, knowing
she loved him, too, knowing she would never fully give herself over to the
power of love the way I had. If Logan could, then so be it! But I was the
Winter King, the Snow Prince, the Lord of Ice. I deserved – I needed – I craved
more than being Breena’s sometime first choice. I needed to be loved totally –
or else to cure myself of this savage and sickening love forever. I needed to
forget her.

And that is why I had embarked upon my
quest, heading past the Atlas Mountains into this strange and nebulous land: to
the Fields of Flowermead, where no Fey ever went, and from which no Fey had
ever returned. It was not, like the Kingdom of the Dead, a place for shades who
had not passed into the beyond – the creatures of Flowermead were never dead
nor alive, but existed in a liminal space, the in-between space of shadows that
only magic could carve out.

I paused halfway along the mountain
pass, and from my satchel I pulled out a silver-framed mirror. I knew I should
not, but I could not resist it; I gave myself over to the weakness of
needing
to know.
I gazed into the mirror, and for a moment I caught a glimpse of
myself. Bright blue eyes, crystallized with pain. My jaw twisted with anguish,
the clean chiselled lines of my bones – once bearing the nobility and pride of
my Winter lineage – seemingly vanished as misery ravaged my face.

And then the sight of my own eyes was
gone, and I saw
her
instead. A beautiful young woman with long plaited
hair, gleaming with strands of gold and strands of red, chestnut strands that
tantalized me with their shimmering brightness. Caramel-colored eyes with
flecks of green, hazel, and lavender blue – shining like the rarest of rare
gems. Even now, as angry with her as I was, I couldn’t help but feel an
overwhelming rush of love and desire; against my better judgment, I began to
kiss the mirror where her reflection was displayed, imagining in my misery that
the cold silver of the frame was in reality her warm and cinnamon-hot skin.

And then I saw
him
in the
frame. Walking with Breena; his arm twined around hers, patting her hand with
that wolf-like love that had always characterized his devotion. I scowled as I
watched him lean in, his lips poised to kiss her at the top of her forehead…

I could bear it no longer. The agony
had cut too deep. In an instant I had flung the mirror into the snow, savoring
the sound of the metal ringing like a bell at the blow.

“Why, Breena?” I called into the open
air, into the white clouds. “Why can’t I stop loving you? Why must I keep on
feeling it – this pain, this jealousy, this weakness?”

I expected no response but my own
echo, but to my surprise I heard not my own voice but another’s – hundreds of
voices, laughing, mocking, twisting my words.

“Why? Why? Why?” The voice carried
over the mountainsides. “Why – because of your weakness! Because you gave in.”

Among their voices there was one
silvery melody – one voice – I recognized. I hardly dared to believe – I could
not fathom it. But the voice I knew all too well.

“Mother?” I called out.

She shimmered into a view – a silvery,
translucent figure – but her eyes were as stern and austere, as shining and
hawk like, as ever.

I began to stammer in my confusion.
“B-b-but…you’re dead. Redleaf killed you!”

“A moment of weakness,” my mother’s
voice was hard and cold. “I fell victim to love – to the need to protect my
daughter, who was no Heir, who had no Power. I was a fool to do it.”

“You were always such a strong ruler,
Mother.” Words I had always wanted to say welled up in my throat.

“But not strong enough…” My mother’s
lips twisted into a snarl. “Love made me weak. The way it has made you weak, my
son, my Kian, once-Prince, now-King of Feyland.”

“What should I do, Mother?” A child’s
need for comfort seized hold of me.

“You must no longer be ruled by this
passion, my son, nor this love. They will only cause you to fail in your duties
which you owe to Feyland.”

I thought once more of Breena. No
matter what I did, what I tried to do, no matter how far I ran – could I ever
really stop loving her? I wanted to stop – I wanted to free myself from this
pain – but I couldn’t imagine anything ever working. Love was stronger than any
magic.

“What must I do?” I asked her.

“There is a way,” my mother said. “But
it is not an easy road. You must go to the Ancient Realms and seek there the
magic of one White Witch. She has been known to cure the curse of love when it
has afflicted Fey in the past.”

I sighed and nodded. ‘Then go there I
must,” I said. Even as I spoke I knew the pain such an action would cause. But
I knew, too, the risks. If I stayed in love with Breena – and yet lost her. To
another, to Logan – it didn’t matter. I would go mad, as mad as Shasta went, if
not worse. And as a King of Feyland, I owed it to my people, to my subjects, to
be able to look upon Breena as an ally, as a friend, but nothing more.

“Onwards, my son!”

A portal appeared before me,
shimmering like a mist.

“You must step forth. You must leap
with faith in your heart!” My mother’s words were loud and clear.

“Forgive me, Breena,” I whispered.

I stepped through the portal.

Chapter
1

Breena

I
missed him. Every fiber of my body called out for him. I woke up from dreams of
him, sobbing. I gave myself over to the sweet balm of sleep, closed my eyes,
and wished against all hope that he would be there next to me when I woke up,
that his smooth cool skin would be lying against mine. But instead I woke up,
night after night, morning after morning, dawn after dawn, in an agonizingly
empty bed. The emptiness that overwhelmed me; the pain that floored me. The man
I loved was gone.

          And
the worst part was that I couldn’t blame him. This guilt, this pain, was mine
alone to bear. I had always known that one day I would push him too far, that
one day I would hesitate too long. That one day I would destroy the happiness
we shared. The knowledge had dominated my subconscious for too long – and now
at last it was over. The pain was gone – like a Band-Aid being ripped off. Kian
had left me; I deserved it; I had lost him.