Midnight Frost

Midnight Frost

Published by THE EDGE

THE EDGE is an imprint of Sparklesoup Inc.

Copyright © 2011 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.

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First Edition.

ISBN 13:
978-1597489027

DEDICATION

Midnight Frost is dedicated to you readers who have stayed with the Frost Series from Bitter Frost throughout and have been my greatest supporters. Thank you for your word-of-mouth advertising, for believing in these characters and the message of hope in this series. Your encouragement and kind words help make this series possible.

Prologue

I
was falling. The air tasted like snow – sharp, tart particles whipped past my face, bruising me with frost. The mountain's peak was far above me, now – and from where I was plummeting I could see that needle-sharp point from which I had been pushed. I closed my eyes. I was dying, now, I knew – I had made that choice. For Kian. For Kian, whom I had loved – for Kian, on whom I rested all my hopes. It was up to him now. It was up to Kian to make peace, the peace that we had been working for for so long. I could feel tears trickle from in between my eyelids, squeezed tightly but not tightly enough to hold them back; I could feel them freeze on my face.

Was this dying?

I never imagined that there would be so much time between falling and landing. I never imagined that it would take so long to die. All these moments, each one stretching and slowing so that I could see in every second that kept me from the ground all the memories, long-hidden, long-forgotten, of my life thus far. I could see my mother's laugh and my father raised up on his horse – see the childhood in Feyland I thought I had forgotten, and the childhood in Gregory, Oregon, I knew so well.

I was only eighteen years old. And already I was going to die. For Kian.

I tried to push the fear out of my mind, the beating of my heart, the terror as I kept falling. I didn't want to look down. I didn't want to see how much time I had left – how many feet there were still to fall. A queen wouldn't be scared, I told myself. A queen would be strong. I had been the Summer Queen in life – now it was time to die like one.

It was time to die alone, scared, on some mountain I had never seen before (but I was only eighteen years old! And the past two years in Feyland were nothing but a dream...suddenly I was sixteen again, in high school, making poster cutouts for the Environmentalist Club and my heart ached for that unknowing childhood!) It was time to die for a love that, two years ago, I thought was only the stuff of dreams. It was time to die for a country I had never even known to be real.

No.
A voice was strong and loud within me.
No.
I wasn't going to die – not here, not now. I wasn't going to give it up – not everything...not Feyland, not Gregory. I wasn't going to die without seeing my mother again, without going back to Gregory, without walking in those woods behind the High School, without laughing in the face of Clarisse who had teased me so mercilessly. And I wasn't going to die without saving Feyland, making peace, stopping the Pixies, the onslaught of death...

These two lives, so different – my human life and my fairy life – each flashing before me. These two lives I loved so much – I wasn't going to give up either.

I wasn't going to die. No – the voice within me grew angry – not when I had so much left to do. Not when there was so much ahead of me. I wasn't going to die because some old woman with mystic powers had told me to – no, there had to be something more than that. Something more than her magic. There had to be some way – a way based in the ancient magic of love, that mysterious subject with all its primal power that the fairies so loved and feared – there had to be a way to save us both. Me and Kian – linked forever. As long as one of us lived, the other one had to live, too. I was sure of it. Kian had said once that love was the strongest, most dangerous magic there was.

Well, I was willing to face the danger. I felt the magic in me – the power of Summer, the power of my throne and crown – call out to the magic around me: to the twin suns of Feyland, to the sky and stars, to the mountains, to the earth. I could feel my body growing warm; I could feel on my face the ray of a sun I knew was not shining down upon me.

I wasn't going to die like this – I wasn't going to let it end. There had to be another way. I could hear a sound roaring in my ears – the sound of life, the sound of wind – a great, magnificent flapping that seemed to drown out my fear, drown out all sound but its own.

I was falling faster, now; the snow against my flesh grew bitter, and one icicle sliced across my hand.

My eyes flew open.

And then I saw my wound. Not red – not the color of human blood – but silver. The color of fairy blood.

And then I saw the source of that sound of flapping – the magnificent beating. I was surrounded by gleaming feathers, blue and gold intertwined, trimmed with scarlet. They were pushing against the air, pushing me up higher, keeping me aloft, keeping me safe.

And that's when it hit me.

They were my wings.

The shock was the last thing I remember before everything went black.

************

A
sleep had overtaken me – or else a darkness. I did not know where I was. I could see nothing, hear nothing, smell nothing. My limbs were stiff, but there was no pain. Had I fallen, after all – had I died? The wings – were they only a dream? I looked around, but my eyes could not adjust – the darkness around me was too palpable, too black, for my eyes to ascertain any life in it.

“Hello?” My lips made some kind of motion, but no sound came out. I could feel my own breath – hoarse and listless – was that a sign of life? Was I alive? Fear began throbbing within my chest.

“Breena!” It was a voice I knew – so soft, so sweet, so familiar. Yes, my mother's voice – how often had I curled up against her, leaned my head on her shoulder, given myself over to the happiness of my childhood, of love? The voice made me want to curl up again – where it was warm, dark, safe.

“Breena, my child, come back to me...”

“Mommy?” The words came out at last. I hadn't called her Mommy since I was five years old but the words seemed to drift out from my lips.

“Come back home to Gregory. Leave Feyland – leave it all behind. You belong with me, darling, where it's safe. Where it's warm.”

Yes, I thought drowsily. Warm. Safe. Home. That's what I needed to do – just what Mommy said.

“Forget everything...” My mother's voice filled my heart with warmth. “Forget Feyland. Just come home. Just be normal.”

An objection formed in the back of my mind. “But the peace...” I whispered. “I have to make peace.”

“You're just a little girl!” The voice came back to me. “Let your daddy handle it. He's so big, so strong. He can take care of it. You just need to come home. Curl up in bed. I'll read you your favorite story – make you some soup...”

Soup – yes! I felt myself nodding. I would lie in bed, curl up – Mommy would read me my favorite story – just like when I was little. Yes – just like...

No! Something else within me, some strength, woke me up. What was I doing? I wasn't a little girl at all – I was eighteen, a Queen, responsible for my entire kingdom. I couldn't leave all that behind – what was I thinking? My brain felt foggy, clouded – what enchantment was this?

“I'm not a little girl, Mommy!” My voice was stronger now. “I've spent two years in Feyland, learning to rule, learning to control my magic. And I have the power of the Summer Throne within me- all the Summer Queens of the past, looking out for me. Taking care of me.”

“Hush now,” my mother's voice was so soothing, so calming. She could have convinced me of anything. “But you have a fatal weakness,” she whispered. “You're a human. I am human and so you are of human blood. You're not like the other fairies – strong enough to withstand the challenges of Feyland. Humans are easily consumed by emotions. By madness. You don't want to go mad, do you?”

“No, Mommy...”

“In Feyland, being controlled by passion can lead to only one thing. Your downfall. Death. Danger. You don't want that, do you?”

“N..no, Mommy?” I looked around, my eyes adjusting at last. We were in a valley – somewhere I had never been before. Some dark corner of Feyland. Not like the splendid palaces of the Summer or Winter Courts. This place was colder. Darker. More dangerous. I could feel some magic within me telling me that this was a place of ancient magic – a place that nobody, neither Winter nor Summer, had ever been able to tame. What was my mother doing here? And why was she telling me to leave Feyland?

“Let your Daddy handle things,” my mother said again. “After all, he's so strong. So brave. He's a
man.
He'll be able to handle everything.”

That broke the spell. Even in my dreamy, disoriented state, I knew one thing about my mother. And the real Raine Malloy would never,
ever
, have dreamed of suggesting that her only daughter could be outdone by any man.

“Who are you?” I cried out. “What do you want with me? You're not my mother, are you?”

A high-pitched, cold laugh filled the valley. My hands went – instinctively – to the dagger still looped into my belt.

“I order you,” I cried out. “In the name of the Summer Queen, I command you – show yourself.”

The voice laughed again. “What fun would it be if I did that?”

I drew the dagger from its handle. “More fun than being made into mincemeat by this dagger” I shouted. “I would guess – take your pick.”