Frost Fire (Frost Series #6) (8 page)

“You don’t want to do that again,” said Shasta gruffly. “Next time it will be us that go hungry. We don’t know when our next meal’s coming from.”

Rose shook her head. “We can hunt and kill and gather,” she said. “The unicorns are helpless. They can only eat the food we give them, if there’s no grass. We have to provide for them.”

But as she looked out over the vast collection of unicorns and Pegasi before her, she sighed and grew silent. Even a hundred apples would not have been enough to tide them over more than a few hours.

“Will they die?” she asked Logan in a small voice.

“The faster we get those suns back,” Logan said, without looking at her, “the faster we save the ones who are left.” He sighed. “You don’t get indigenous unicorns and Pegasi in too many places,” he said. “We’re not in Fey country anymore – unicorns don’t like humans too much. We must be further out than I thought.” He held up his sword, which glimmered and served as a lantern – touched, as it was, by the magic of that red stone he carried with him.

“You don’t think…” Alistair began, holding up his electric rod – he had managed, to Rose’s surprise, to fashion an electric rod out of a blacksmith’s metal, just enough to carry a charge throughout the air.

“I do,” said Logan. “I think we’ve reached the Wilds.”

Rose gasped sharply.
The Wilds?
She’d heard of these far-off reaches of Feyland, so remote and filled with ancient magic that fairies dared not venture too deeply into them, lest they die or go mad or be eaten by some strange and unclassified beast.
So we’re in the Wilds now,
she thought. Somehow it made the whole thing seem real.

“We’ll have to conserve our light,” said Logan. “Take turns. We’ll need to save our strength to fight off enemies, if it comes to that. I’ll use my sword, then Alistair – your rod, and so forth. Rodney, you can use your lightning bugs.” Rodney hugged the glass jar, glimmering with sleeping light-beetles, to his chest.

But as they walked onwards, they saw not a fog of darkness, as they had expected, but a glimmering light in the distance, one stronger even than the fires that now burned in Feyland’s royal palaces.

“What is that?” Shasta craned her neck to look.

“How did the Wilds get so much magic?” Rose asked. “If even the royal courts can’t get that bright?”

Shasta shook her head. “I’ve been here once before,” she said. “When I was quite a bit younger. My mother came out here on a political campaign, seeking to get the creatures of the Wild – you know, dragons, unicorns, Pegasi, banshees – to join us with the pixies against Summer.” She looked half-ashamed to bring up the war. “they weren’t a bad group overall – indeed, they were quite amicable to us – but they were fierce. They hated the idea of being colonized by another; they’re more animal than Fey. They’re independent. Strong. They resist change – they knew that we at the Winter Court would bring change. We made them the promise that we would allow the Wilds to remain autonomous under Winter’s rule. Perhaps such autonomy allowed them to conserve magic and power. Summer, of course, would never have done such a thing – they were notorious for conquering kingdoms and subsuming them into Summer’s Empire. Take Autumn, for example. Incorporated into Summer as though it had never been a kingdom of its own, no culture, no history…”

Rose flushed as she jumped on Shasta’s words. “But we protected them!” she cried. “Without us, Autumn would have died out. We gave them food, defense, resources…”

“I didn’t mean to imply anything,” Shasta responded quickly. “I meant only that the Wilds and its denizens may be warier of Summer Fey than Winter Fey.”

Rodney nodded, patting Shasta on the back. “Rose, I’m sure Shasta didn’t mean to speak ill of Summer. We are one kingdom now – no divisions between us. But since I’ve learned to leave my prejudices behind, I have learned that those outside Summer do view Summer in a particular way – we have a reputation for being strong, it’s true, but also willing to impose our ways on others. You’ve never been outside of Summer for long, nor spent time in other parts of Feyland. Summer is not always looked well upon.”

Color ran to Rose’s cheeks. While she knew deep down that Rodney was right – even
she
wasn’t sure how she felt about Summer annexing Autumn – she hated the idea that Rodney would take Shasta’s side over hers. “And you’ve been so used to listening to the enemies of Summer that maybe you don’t have Summer’s interests at heart anymore!” Rose clapped her hand over her mouth. She knew the moment she finished speaking that she had gone too far. Rodney and Shasta both glared back at her, hurt.

Rose turned pink. She hadn’t meant to insult Rodney – or Shasta! But seeing the two of them together – seeing how happy they were – made something in Rose’s throat tense up. They were so happy, so in love – Shasta was, for Rodney, the most important girl in the world. Rose could remember when
she
was the most important girl in Rodney’s world, she thought bitterly.

Before an argument could escalate, however, Logan broke in, his calm, smooth voice soothing both sets of tempers. “Well, we know that the creatures of the Wilds are more likely to talk to Winter over Summer. We don’t know how fast news has travelled out here – they might not know that the war has ended. It’s probably good for Shasta to lead this one, then – and the rest of us should be very careful about saying where we’re from. Got it?”

The others agreed, Rose somewhat more reluctantly than the rest.

“Cheer up,” Alistair whispered to Rose, squeezing her hand. “It’s not so bad. In laws are always hard, huh?”

His teasing voice couldn’t help but make Rose smile through her bitterness. She was grateful for Alistair, she realized – more grateful than she knew. Feeling his hand on hers made her feel warm and safe.

She felt only a twinge of pain when he let go.

Chapter 8

A
lthough this area was known as the “Wilds,” Rose found, to her surprise, that it was not quite as “wild” as she had feared. While this was certainly no Summer Court, Rose could spy at least one tavern as they approached the rickety cluster of houses that seemed to constitute a village, and two smaller shops. At least they would have a bed for the night, Rose thought, and hoped that there would be some food as well. Her stomach was grumbling, and she couldn’t help but regret the apple she had given to the unicorn earlier that afternoon.

At least there was light. Every house emitted a strange, golden glow – a more powerful flame than any Rose had seen in the Summer or Winter Courts since the destruction of the Suns. Somebody here must have strong magic, she knew – magic strong enough to keep a flame like that going must belong to somebody with serious power. She couldn’t resist a small shudder. Hopefully, the owner of this powerful magic would be friendly to their cause, willing or eager to help them. But if not…

Rose couldn’t let herself think about that right now.

They entered the tavern and sat down warily, conscious with every move they made that they might not be welcome here. A group of fairies stood by the tavern bar – if they could be called fairies at all, Rose thought. For these looked like no Fey Rose had ever seen. These creatures were smaller than other fairies, with gleaming white skin and bodies that, though human, retained long white tails. And the horns protruding from their heads were
certainly
not characteristic of any Fey, Summer or Winter.

“Unicorn-born,” whispered Logan into Rose’s ear.

“Are they Fey?” Rose whispered back, hoping they wouldn’t hear.

“Half,” said Logan. “They say if a woman touches a unicorn’s horn, she becomes pregnant with one of the unicorn-born…”

Rose thought of the unicorn she had fed and said nothing. She didn’t want to think too critically about the genesis of these mysterious creatures, who had by now started to turn and stare at the newcomers in their midst.         

Shasta was the first to reply. “You may know me, friends,” she began. “I am Shasta…” her voice only faltered for a moment, “Princess of the Winter Kingdom. I visited here once with my mother when I was young.”

“We remember,” one of the unicorn-born said, “you wanted us creatures to fight in your war – we know it well! Well, we’re not falling for that again.”

“It was an alliance,” said Shasta, “beneficial to both parties.”

“Until the Winter Fey and the Pixies started betraying us!” Another of the unicorn-born chimed in. “Killing us.”

Rodney was looking grave, his eyes wandering up to the ceiling. “Rose?” he asked in a low voice.

“We did no such thing!” Shasta scoffed. “My people are honorable people. We never betray an alliance.”

“Rose….” Rodney whispered. “Something’s up…it’s a trap.”

Rose followed Rodney’s gaze. Up on the wall, flitting from rafter to rafter of the ceiling, were a series of shadows darker and more sinister than any she had seen before. Shadows that bore no relation to the objects around them, no relation to the fire in the fireplace, but seemed to be moving of their own volition.

“Something’s not right!” Rodney sprang forth, alerting Logan, Alistair, and Shasta to the trap.

“Not right at all!” A high-pitched voice echoed throughout the room. The unicorn-born had all vanished – no trace of them remained. Rose gasped. She had heard that the strongest Fey could create illusions – but never believed in them. Until now.

“Look out!” Logan cried, pushing Rose aside. “Above you!” A shadow swooped down towards them, and Rose felt a chill come over her. Normal shadows never caused cold like that.

Rodney and Shasta sprang to their feet, drawing their swords. The shadows seemed to slip down the sides of the wall to the floor, converging and melding until at last the darkened outlines of unicorns, dragons, and Pegasi appeared before them. Their bodies were ill-defined, translucent, floating in mid-air.

They were, Rose realized with a sickening surety, ghosts.

“The Dark Hordes,” Rose whispered to Alistair, placing her hand on her dagger and hoping against hope that she’d be able to remember how to use it. “They’re here…”

“Who are you, little girl?” It was a woman’s voice this time, strong enough to break the glasses on the table. Rose couldn’t see where the voice was coming from, but somehow she felt sure the question was directed at her. “R-rose,” she said, clearing her throat to sound braver than she felt. “Of the Summer Court.”

“Summer, are we?” The voice shrieked out a shrill laugh. “Summer, Winter, it doesn’t matter. Both have deceived us. Both have led us to our graves.”

“How are you here?” Rose looked wildly around. “We vanquished you – we got rid of the Dark Hordes! You should be rotting in some cave somewhere!”

“Who says we’re from the Dark Hordes?” The woman laughed, and was soon joined by an eerie chorus of laughter.

“Then what are you?” Logan brandished his sword, which gleamed in the firelight. “Reveal yourselves, fools!”

The voice grew serious. “We are,” it said, with a chilling pause, “the ones who reside in the dark. We are the ones who seek revenge.”

“Revenge?” Rose turned to Shasta. “What do they want revenge for?”