Frost Fire (Frost Series #6) (3 page)

Rodney sighed. “I guess not,” he said. “But still...”

“Born without magic...” Logan was saying. “But there's almost nowhere in Feyland without magic. Unless...” He stopped, a horrified look on his face.

“Unless what?” Shasta said. “Shouldn't that narrow it down somewhat?”

“Not necessarily,” said Logan. “The prophecy didn't say she was born in Feyland. She could be anywhere – including the land Beyond the Crystal River.”

The enormity of his words silenced them all. It would be hard enough to track down a Sorceress in Feyland – but to track down a magical girl in the mortal world who didn't even know who she was?

“Talk about a needle in a haystack,” muttered Rodney.

“We should consult Kian and Breena,” said Logan gravely. “They'll know what to do.” But from the sadness on Logan's face, Rose knew that going to Kian and Breena was the last thing he wanted to do.

Chapter 2

T
hey made their way into the central keep of the castle, a high white tower that once glimmered at sunrise and sunset, catching the sun’s yellow rays on gems and bright stones that shone with the beauty of the light. Now, however, only a few torches illuminated the tower. The stained glass windows had gone dark; where once beautiful flames had transformed the windows into stunning mosaics of green, red, blue and gold now the group saw only shadow. There wasn’t enough magic in the kingdom to worry about things like beauty – all the fire, all the magic, all the energy had gone into basic light and heating spells, just enough so that the inhabitants of Feyland could avoid freezing to death and walking into walls. Rose sighed as they approached the central courtyard of the palace. This place had once been so beautiful – and now it was full of pain. Rose knew deep down that the worst was over – after all, hadn’t they ended the wars that had so afflicted their kingdom for many years? – but Rose could not bring herself to breathe a sigh of relief. The wars may have been over, but that was little comfort for the thousands who had died. From the castle walls one could see the new earth freshly-dug for graves – thousands and thousands of markers spreading all the way to the horizon: burial sites for Pixies and fairies, Wolves, and phoenixes, for all who had died in the destruction of the Dark Hordes.

The darkness almost seemed to be mourning them, Rose thought. How could the suns shine brightly when they had lost so much? It would have been an affront to their grief – to weep in the shadow those gorgeous orbs of light and life! It seemed fitting, somehow, this darkness. A punishment for our foolishness – the foolishness that had afflicted them all, that had made them fight, that had made them kill each other for centuries.
We fairies and pixies and other denizens of Feyland had been willing to wage war,
thought Rose,
now we are all paying the price
.

Shasta was silent behind her and Rose knew that Shasta felt as she did. Her guilt was palpable; although her lips remained closed Rose could feel her grief, and her sadness made Rose's own far heavier a burden. Shasta was holding Rodney’s hand; Rodney was comforting her. Rose wanted to say some words of comfort, too, to lighten Shasta’s load, but she found that she could not. She could not find the words. How could Rose tell her that all would be well, that she forgave her, when deep down she  was angry not only with her, but with all the fairies who fought in the war: the Summer Queen Redleaf, the departed Winter Queen, Frank Flametail, and all the rest.

How could they have let this happen to us?

Their reverie was interrupted by the sound clash of swords. Logan stiffened immediately, sniffing the air as his lupine ears picked up the crash. “Fighting…” he whispered. “Get back.”

Rodney, Shasta, and Logan stepped forward, their hands gripping the hilt of their swords. The group rounded the corner tentatively, following the sound of the fighting. Metal hit metal – from time to time they heard a soft, feminine cry…

“Breena!” Logan rushed forth, rounding the corner, and the others followed him.

“Logan?” Breena’s calm, collected voice stopped them short.

Breena was dressed in a simple knight’s tunic, her sword glimmering in her hand. The Winter Prince Kian stood alongside her, gripping another sword. His skin was paler than ever without the sun to give it the faintest pink glow; he was beautiful but cold.

“We heard the sound of fighting…” Logan said sheepishly. “We thought someone had broken into the palace.”

Breena smiled softly. “No, Logan,” she said. She shook her long, shiny honey brown hair. “Kian and I were only…practicing. It wouldn’t do for us to forget how to fight get hoӀ not with so much work to be done.” Her voice was low and caressing. She was trying to be as sensitive to Logan as she could manage – smiling at him, reminding him of their long-standing friendship – but it didn’t seem to Rose to be doing much good. Logan stood awkwardly before her, his eyes burning with the agony of lost love. Breena blushed and looked down at the earth.

“I thought you’d be…uh…preparing for the wedding, Highness,” said Logan.

“That can wait,” Breena and Kian said together. “We need to focus on making sure that we’re ready for whatever comes next,” Breena added. “The Dark Hordes may be gone, but that doesn’t mean the fighting’s over. Winter and Summer have made their peace – but there might yet be renegade fairies hoping for war.”

“And that’s not the only thing,” said Kian. “The Dark Forces who made the Hordes – just because the Hordes are vanquished doesn’t mean that the Forces who created them are gone. Breena had a dream last night – tell them about it, my love!”

Breena looked grave. “There was this woman,” she said, closing her eyes as she recounted the dream. “She had no face. Or at least – I couldn’t make one out. And she came to Feyland, and she brought with her this…darkness. Worse than the Hordes. Worse than the loss of the suns. A darkness so terrible it killed all who came into contact with it. And then she sucked all the life out of Feyland. The trees withered and died – the grass grew brown and sickly. Everything was just…lost. But when she was done, she didn’t stop. She went to the Crystal River and crossed it – ready to do the same thing to the mortal world…” Breena was shaking. “It wasn’t a normal dream,” she said. “It felt real. Magical.”

“There are many legends of Queens being given the Sight in order to protect their kingdoms,” Kian said. “In times of need, the Queens learn of what will befall them in dreams.” Kian said.

“We’ve been trying to do our research,” said Breena. “See if something like this has ever happened before.” She turned around. “Ali, do you mind bringing us that book we were looking at.”

A handsome blond young man appeared from another room, a heavy book in tow. He had grown older, to be sure, and the faintest hint of a golden beard remained upon his shaven chin, but Rose could recognize his beauty anywhere. Her heart skipped a beat. This was Alistair – the nephew of the Duke of Autumn Springs. The boy who had been her first love when she was thirteen and he was fifteen.

Rose had not seen him in five years and still, to her surprise, her heart began to pound in her chest so loudly that she was conv inced that Logan, with his keen wolf-sense of hearing, could make out every single beat.

“Alistair?” Rose’s voice was shyer than she meant it to be, trembling with trepidation.

“Rose!” Alistair’s smile crinkled with joy. He ran to embrace her, and for a moment Rose lost herself in his arms.

“But what are you doing here?”

“The usual,” Alistair gave her a playful smile. “Saving the world and all that.” He laughed. “No, seriously. I had this dream about the Queen of Feyland. A dream that she was being attacked by this woman…a woman so powerful that she could turn all of Feyland into dust and ash with a single flick of her wrist. It wasn’t a normal dream, either. It was definitely a prophetic dream. So of course, I had to go warn her right away…”

“Queen of Feyland,” Rodney and Rose echoed softly. Once, Breena had merely been the Summer Queen, but now she had a new, greater, title. There was no Winter Queen; there was no Summer Queen. Just one united Feyland – with Summer’s Queen Breena at the helm. The siblings both beamed with pride.

Shasta looked down quickly, and the others all began to feel awkward. For if there was no Winter Queen any longer, it was due to the death of the Old Queen, who had – even in her anger at Shasta – nevertheless sacrificed her life to save her from the avenging wrath of the former Summer Queen Redleaf. Nor did Shasta have any title of her own – the Winter Queen, her own mother, had stripped her of the title of Winter Princess; she was a commoner. Like the rest of them.

But Shasta forced out a smile. Her brother, after all, was King of Feyland – and although her eyes still told the story of her pain, she was doing her best to be happy for her brother. After all, Kian and Breena were, after so many obstacles, finally able to be together – just like her and Rodney. They had both been able to pledge their lives to the people they loved – wasn’t that what mattered?

Kian put his arms around Breena, his eyes shining with a protective love. “So as you can see, Rose,” he said, “we’re not about to take any chances. Two dreams coming on the heels of one another like this – it must mean something.”

“If Alistair dreamed of the same woman I did,” Breena began, “and he and I both dreamed of her danger and her power – then that’s too big a coincidence to ignore. I don’t know what these dreams mean, but I do know that someone’s after me. After us. I would fight her but…”

“But our kingdom needs Breena alive, and safe.” Kian spoke up. “She has been one of the great unifying forces behind our two kingdoms coming together: the people love her. The wolves love her, and so do the Pixies. They all trust her. They need her. And
I
need her. After all, Breena is going to be my wife.”

“Yes!” Shasta spoke up merrily, trying to change the subject. “Have you set a date, Kian?”

Breena and Kian both blushed. “Kian wanted it as early as possible,” said Breena, “but right now, when everything’s so uncertain in Feyland and following so much death and destruction, we wondered if it was better to wait…”

Alistair approached Kian and Breena, his alchemy book in hand. “This was the prophecy you were looking for, your Highness.”

Kian and Breena read it out loud together: “
When the Twin Suns of the Ancient Feyland are Diminished by the darkness and its forces, then it shall presage the weeping and the lamentation; the harbinger of the end of days. In the emptiness of the sunless sky there shall be a vacuum, and she who rises to fill it will be darker still than those destroyers of the Sun. She will be called the Dark Sorceress, and she will bring together the mortal and the immortal, the Winter and the Summer, the light and the dark – all to destroy that which is good in the world, and to cast her evil like a net or snare over all the world.
”

It was the same passage Rose had noted earlier – evidently, Rose noted,  she and Alistair were thinking alike.

“So it has to do with the suns,” Rodney said. “That’s what we thought, too.”

“Then somehow restoring the suns and getting rid of this sorceress – they’re closely linked,” said Breena. “I don’t know how or why. But this darkness is making it possible for the Sorceress to rise up.”

“But how can we stop her if we don’t know who or where she is?”

“And do we need to destroy her to return the suns? Or return the suns in order to destroy her?” Shasta broke in. “It’s so confusing.”