Winter Queen (22 page)

“That,” Darrien said, his voice slung dangerously low, “will never happen.” He led her down a street.

Little girls ran ahead of them, throwing flowers and shouting, “The bride comes!”

People came to the doors. Women shouted well wishes, while the men called out innuendoes. Gifts were handed out, gifts which young boys carried ahead, shouting. More girls came from the houses to throw flowers at Ilyenna’s feet.

It was all for show. Ilyenna could see fear in the clanwomen’s faces, and annoyance in the clanmen’s. The knife felt heavy above her wrist. “You’re just doing this to draw out my fear,” she said to Darrien.

Turning down yet another street, he waved. “Of course, now smile.”

She didn’t bother. He could pretend all he wanted, but she refused. “Don’t you understand? You’ve already taken everything,” she said. “You’ve nothing to threaten me with. Nothing to hold hostage.”

They passed the last of the houses. The boys’ arms were loaded with gifts, everything from barrels of beer to burlap sacks of grain. Darrien bent down to her, his lips brushing her ear. Clanmen shouted and hooted at the sight. She felt his lips pull into a smile.
“Everything? Oh, no. I have one more thing to take from you.”

She smiled to herself and thought, Oh
no you don’t. I already gave it to Rone. And you’ll die before you ever touch me. She longed to say the words out loud, to wipe the smile from his face.

Just before they entered the clan house, Darrien turned to the crowd. Ilyenna saw Varris standing at the back, her hands crossed over her stomach. Darrien smiled at her as two men took up positions beside her. “Because you are an honored guest on this momentous day, Varris of the Riesen, I’ve ordered an honor guard to see to your safety and every need.”

Varris’s hands dropped to her sides and her gaze met Ilyenna’s. Ilyenna’s head spun until she was sick. Darrien gripped her arm again, pulling her inside and shutting the door to the shouts outside.

Ilyenna wondered how he’d known she and Varris were planning to escape—and if he already knew about the knife a finger’s breadth from his hand. As he pushed her up the ladder, Ilyenna noted Metha’s blankets rolled up beside the wall. Harrow’s basket lay next to it. This was Metha’s home.
Her gifts. Harrow’s heritage. Ilyenna was a thief here.

But she hadn’t taken away Metha’s place on purpose. At least the woman seemed to understand that now, though Ilyenna doubted Metha would ever forgive killing Darrien.

Darrien opened the door to his room. Ilyenna was numb. Unfeeling. Dead. She felt the outline of the knife against her skin. She studied Darrien’s face, looking for any sign of humanity. “You don’t have to do this.”

He grunted. “I’ve been looking forward to this for a long time. Now, you can come in by yourself or screaming.”

She stared into the room full of dead things and took a hesitant step forward. The rest weren’t so hard. She found herself beside the bed, staring out the window into the night sky. Could she really go through with killing him? What other choice did she have?

“So, what can I do to rile you up?” Darrien asked. “I like you better when you’re feisty.”

Yes, she could kill him.

He pulled her hair over her shoulder and began kissing her neck. She eased the knife down between her fingers.

“What if I said you were right, that my father and I were in line with the Raiders? That they promised us all of the Shyle and Argon lands if we crippled your clans and kept the pass clear. Would that make you fight?”

That explained why he’d taken a clan chief and two clan mistresses. A leaderless clan was a weak clan. Anger coursed through Ilyenna with such heat that she wondered how it didn’t consume her. She calmed herself before asking, “Then why
bother with me?”

Darrien slowly tugged at the laces at her shoulders. “If the Raiders fail, the Shyle will still be nearly destroyed. Of course I’d step in, take care of my wife’s clan. I’d have
claim to.”

“And if the Raiders defeat the clans, you’ll kill me?” she said.

He chuckled. “No. I don’t think I will. You’re much too amusing to kill.”

She thought of all the people dead because of Darrien, and how many more would die in the future. She wanted to fight him, to scratch his eyes out and feed them to him. Her insides quivered with rage. Spinning, she plunged the knife toward him.

Darrien caught her arm and twisted it behind her back. She cried out in pain.

He laughed. “Took you long enough to use that knife.”

He tried to pull the knife from her, but she tightened her grip. He twisted her arm so hard he lifted her from the ground. She felt something tear in her shoulder. He jerked the knife from her hand and threw her on the bed.

Her breath coming hard and fast, she stared at the knife in his hand. She’d failed.

“I figured you’d try something like this,” Darrien said matter-of-factly. “I would have.”

“I’ll tell the Council what you’ve done.”

He shook his head. “By then, it will be too late. The Raiders will be here.” As he took a step toward her, a knock sounded at the door.

“Not now!” Darrien shouted.

“I’m sorry Clan Chief, but one of Burdin’s men has come from Shyle Pass. The Raiders are almost through, and their numbers are overwhelming. They’re calling for every able-bodied clanmen to move out as soon as word reaches them. You have to give the order now.”

Darrien let out a low, guttural growl. “There’s no way my clanmen can be ready to move out tonight.
Tomorrow. Maybe the next day.”

“Clan Chief, the man has orders from Burdin himself.”

Darrien ran his hands through his hair. “I’ll be right back. Don’t move.”

When the door slammed behind him, Ilyenna felt the first tremor. Then her whole body started to shake so hard she had to clench her teeth to keep them from chattering. Using the dress, she scrubbed Darrien’s saliva from her neck and shoulder. Tears started down her face as she yanked the laces of her dress tight.

She remembered Varris’s words, “Don’t stop fighting.”

Ilyenna glanced around, looking for some kind of weapon. Then she remembered. Her clan belt still hung from a nail above the bed. She scrambled onto the bed, grabbed her belt, and jerked the knife out of its sheath.

She heard Darrien coming. She whirled away and cradled the dagger to her breast, her heart throbbing in her chest.

She flinched when the door banged open. He grabbed her from behind. “Let’s get this over with.”

Ilyenna whirled and pressed the dagger into his middle. She tried to force herself to kill him, sink it into his flesh, but she just couldn’t.

Darrien raised his hands. “We’ve been over this. You’re a healer, not a killer. Now give me the knife.” He reached for it.

Ilyenna pushed harder. He backed away. She moved with him. “You keep forgetting I killed your brother.”

Darrien’s expression hardened. “You kill me and they’ll hang you.”

Ilyenna smiled. “I know.”

He pivoted away from the knife and tried to bat her hand away. She braced herself and charged him. The knife slipped easily into his belly.

He stared at the blood dripping down his shirt. “I—you—”

She pulled out the knife. Blood gushed onto the floor. Ilyenna’s healer instincts kicked in. She could staunch it. If she’d missed his intestines, he might even survive.

But she made no move to help him.

Darrien collapsed onto the floor, blinking up at her. Ilyenna gaped at the bloody knife in her hands. She wanted to throw it away, but it was all that stood between her and Darrien.

She imagined facing Metha in the morning. The Tyrans would kill Ilyenna. She glanced down at Darrien and realized he had either passed out or died. She threw the knife onto the bed and wiped her bloody hands on her wedding dress. She felt like she was suffocating. She threw open the window, gasping for breath. She looked down. Too far to jump, but not far enough to kill her.

She closed her eyes and felt the warm breeze on her face. The smell of flowers was so strong. She’d only smelled them that strong twice before. Could it be? She peered into the gloom. Leto stood at the edge of the woods. She was plump now and her flesh seemed to glow with golden light.

She was staring at Ilyenna with something close to fury in her gaze.

“Please,” Ilyenna choked out. “Please help me.”

A flash of pain crossed the summer queen’s ebony face. She began slowly backing away.

“No!” Ilyenna gasped. “No! Come back!”

Leto was gone. Somehow, Ilyenna knew the queen hadn’t just slipped into the forest—she had truly disappeared. Ilyenna could feel it. She leaned against the windowsill. For the first time, she almost wished she’d let Rone die.

Hating herself for the thought, she let out a sob. She took a breath of the cold air. She felt the cold seeping into her skin, into her muscles. It felt so comforting, so good. Collapsed against the windowsill, she tried to come up with a plan. But she could see no way of escaping her fate. Truly the dead had marked her
as their own.

Her cries were so hard she didn’t hear it at first. It was a loud whisper before she finally swallowed a sob and listened.
“Ilyenna.”

She straightened and glanced around in shock. In a matter of moments, clouds had rolled in, covering the stars with threatening gray swirls. A frigid gust blew her hair behind her before enveloping the room. When had it turned so cold?

“Ilyenna.”

Leaning out the window, she looked up at the sky. A single snowflake sped toward her. Ilyenna’s heart stuttered. Could it really be one of the winter fairies, in the middle of summer?

The snowflake twisted and twirled toward Ilyenna. She stretched out her hand. She didn’t know why, but she had to catch it. Suddenly, the snowflake shot forward and landed on Ilyenna’s hand.

Some part of her was aware of Darrien bleeding on the floor, but the rest of her was focused on the snowflake. It didn’t melt, and hope soared in Ilyenna’s chest. Then the snowflake vanished. In its place was a tiny, ice-blue fairy with rabbit-fur wings.
Chriel.

Her voice sounded like singing crystals. “I know you, Ilyenna. Know you as I know the language of the storms, the frost flowers that bloom in the ice, the sleeping sighs of the bears in their caves. You think of yourself as a healer. But as a winter queen, you will become a destroyer.”

Ilyenna could only stare at the terrible beauty of the fairy.

Chriel fluttered her wings. “The powers of winter will allow you to save yourself and the ones you love. But there is a price. Before, you hadn’t become winter yet. To do so is to be reborn. And after that, you’ll never break free.”

“I’ll no longer be human?” Ilyenna asked.

Chriel cocked her thimble-sized head to the side. “You will give up your humanity.
All of it—your memories, your emotions. You will be shattered, melted down, and reformed into something new.” The fairy paused, looking sad. “To save yourself and the ones you love, you will have to lose them.”

Ilyenna thought of her clan. Even now, the Raiders were coming down the pass. High Chief Burdin had called for every clanman in the lands. That meant it was bad. And the reinforcements might not make it in time.

Ilyenna shook her head. “I’ve already lost them.”

Chriel fluttered off Ilyenna’s palm and pressed her lips to Ilyenna’s.

25. Winter’s Kiss

With the power of an avalanche, winter raged in Ilyenna’s ears. Her already shattered soul was ground to powder and melted, then remade and reformed. She was Ilyenna no more. In an instant, winter had transformed her from a thinking, feeling woman into a force of nature. As cold and wind and snow embraced her, her fears and memories were frozen beneath a thick layer of ice.

She stood, reveling in her power and her oneness with winter. Her connection with millions of winter fairies snapped into place. She felt their joy at reuniting with her, their thrill at the chance for an early summer storm. They were an extension of
herself. Their emotions were her own. The beating of her heart fell into rhythm with theirs.

Hefting her skirts, she stepped onto the sill.

Rough hands pulled her back. “I knew you had magic! I knew it. You will share it with me.”

A man pointed a bloodied knife at her. She blinked at him, an unnamed distaste on her tongue. Who was he? What madness made him think he had the right to threaten her, the winter queen? But she was not one for violence.
Especially against one so weak. “You don’t want my anger, human.”

He shook her. “Heal me!”

She cocked an eyebrow. “Don’t try my patience.”

He shoved the knife under her chin. “I’m dying. Heal me or I’ll take you with me.”

As one, Ilyenna felt the fairies’ emotions turn with hers, from playful to rage. That rage roared in her ears like a thousand blizzards. “A fairy’s kiss has the power to heal,” she said.

The man hesitated as if some part of him sensed his peril, but then he grasped Ilyenna’s head and pulled her mouth to his. When their lips met, she breathed out a full blizzard.

One snowflake was nothing dangerous, but Ilyenna spit out thousands. The man coughed and sputtered as they invaded his lungs. He tried to push away from her, but she held him fast, filling him with wind cold enough to freeze the sap in the trees. When she finally released him, a ring of hoarfrost coated his mouth. His lips were blue, and jagged bits of ice hung from his chin. His eyes wide, he clutched his throat, his mouth working like a fish. He no longer had the ability to draw breath, for she had frozen his lungs.

“A fairy’s kiss also has the power to kill,” she said.

His veins stood out on his neck. He stumbled, panic on his face.

She reached toward him. She felt no more enmity. He’d paid with his life. “Tell the dead the winter queen wishes them well. After all, we serve the same side of the Balance.” She pressed her fingers to the man’s neck and allowed her cold to surge into him.

He froze, a rictus of pain on his face. Ilyenna cocked her head to the side. Such a horrific sight. With a gentle push, she tipped him over. He shattered into a million pieces.

“Now he knows how it feels.” She wasn’t sure why she’d said the words, but they felt right.

The fire snapped in the hearth. It was making the room unbearably warm. Ilyenna held out her hand. Ice flowed from her palm, freezing the flames in place. “Ah,” she sighed. “Much better.”

But her relief over the man’s death was short lived. The fairies were still furious—unlike Ilyenna, their anger hadn’t been assuaged by his death. They wanted their own vengeance. Entwined as their minds were, their emotions overwhelmed her. Their need became hers.

She heard voices and turned. Qari, Tanyis, and Ursella flew into the room. Ilyenna let out a squeal of delight. Each of them came and pressed their lips to hers. Winter embraced her more tightly.

Qari, her wings like frost flowers, beamed. “Summer has withdrawn.”

“We are free to dance!” Tanyis fluttered her wings in excitement.

Beating her wings like shards of ice so fast they blurred, Ursella zoomed across the room and hovered above what remained of the dead man. Her tiny nose turned up in disgust. “Your kind will pay for that.”

Ilyenna heard the other fairies outside the window. They’d come quickly, filling the air with the sound of their wings. They’d brought the blizzard on their backs. If she didn’t let them release their anger, they’d be sullen all summer. “Very well,” she told them. “Let’s dance.”

She closed her eyes and let winter take her over, transforming her into a thousand flakes. She roared from the room. If any of the humans happened to look up, they’d only see the snowy outline of a woman raging through the heavens. Instead of wings, they’d only hear the rush of the wind, the clash of the flakes.

Calling the storm, she sped across the land. Her fairies joined her. But there was malice as they drove the storm. They sent the snow pelting against the buildings, howling down the chimneys to snuff out the fires. They pelted any wayfarers.

As they raged, Ilyenna happened over high mountains. She saw many, many men. At first, her fairies attacked them as they had the others. But for some reason, the sight of them made her memories churn beneath the frozen barrier that held them back.

A word bubbled up from the frozen ice that held the memories of her past life. Raiders.

Her fury built, piling up inside her like the snow on the ground. Her fairies reacted to her rage. Ilyenna forced her mouth open wide and swallowed the men, driving them into whatever shelter they could find. She rooted them out of hollowed logs, from beneath blankets. She showed no mercy, sending them to the dead in droves.

The more she raged, the more she became it. The cold and the storm enveloped her so completely she knew nothing but the storm, at one with her fairies’ shared fury.

When the men were buried beneath a thick layer of snow, she moved on, looking for others. She didn’t find many. Few caught out in the open had survived her initial fury. But she still wasn’t satiated. “Find more,” she ordered. The fairies fanned out, searching. Alone, she trolled the land. Then she saw a solitary traveler. She attacked, driving him back.

His horse ducked its head, its sides quivering. The man booted it, trying to drive it into the storm when it knew it needed to turn its tail to the wind and find others of its kind to huddle with for warmth.

Another cruel man.
Ilyenna pummeled him again and again, until he finally abandoned the trembling horse and stumbled forward alone. Frustrated, she pulled back and blew with all her might. The wrappings around the man’s face caught in the wind. He reached out, trying to catch them, but her wind jerked them away. He turned his face to the storm.

She stopped short. Somehow, she knew this man. Something within her broke the barrier. Her fury faded as her memories floated free. She could see them all. But it was like looking at someone else’s life.
Her past life. She remembered, but she felt nothing. She pulled away from winter, retaking her human form.

Using her wings that shimmered with the iridescence of an aurora, she fluttered curiously toward him. The man groaned, hunching unnaturally even for the cold. She came a little closer and a word came unbidden to her mind.
“Rone.”

More memories swelled inside her, bursting into her mind so fast she nearly fell from the sky. As it was, she barely caught herself from crashing. Still, she landed with enough force to shatter human legs.

Ilyenna hurried forward. Rone lay face first in the snow, his eyes closed. Her emotions were still frozen. She felt no fear, no sadness. But she remembered him—remembered loving him. The memory alone was strong enough to drive her to save him. She bent down, drawing the cold from his body into her own.

His eyes fluttered open. “Ilyenna?” he asked.

“The Ilyenna you knew is dead,” she answered.

His head rolled back. She felt him again and sensed an unnatural heat in his body.
“Fevered.” Her other life supplied the word. She added a bit of cold, just enough to make him feel right.

Other fairies arrived. Though they didn’t know the source of her new emotions, they felt them. Her compassion had swallowed their fury.

Holding the man called Rone in her arms, Ilyenna took to the skies. She found a house—the same one she remembered borrowing a draft horse from in her previous life—and landed on the doorstep. She knocked on the door. The humans inside opened it. They took one look at her and gaped, too afraid to even close the door.

Ilyenna shoved past them. She lay Rone down before the fire. Even the heat from those meager flames made her feel sick and wilted. She turned to find the humans gaping at her wings. Though she couldn’t resurrect any emotions, she remembered enough to understand how ethereal she must look to them. With a thought, she made her wings disappear.

They blinked in disbelief and begin to rationalize what they’d seen in low, harried voices.

Ilyenna dug around in her jumbled memories. It was like sifting through the contents of someone else’s life. Then she found the right memory. “He’s sick. I need qatcha. Do you know what it is?”

The woman shook her head.

“Garlic, oregano, and onions, simmered with a silver spoon, salt, and chicken organs.” Ilyenna recited. “I also need juice from crushed garlic. And clean rags.”

As she started pulling off Rone’s layers of clothing, she could smell the rot. Finally, she saw the source of the smell. The wound was swollen and red, obviously infected. “Give him whiskey. As much as he can hold.”

The woman knelt next to Ilyenna and began pouring whiskey down Rone’s throat by the spoonful. Ilyenna bathed the wound with whiskey while she waited for the alcohol to inebriate him. When his mumbling went from tight with pain to loose and random, she figured it was close enough.

She enlisted the help of the man and one of the older boys to hold Rone down. Pressing on the skin, she forced out the puss. Ilyenna rubbed and pushed and wiped and poured warm whiskey over the wound until only clear liquid and blood came out. Then she carefully separated the wound, sticking a silver spoon in sideways to keep it open. She scoured it with whiskey and a rag, cut off any dead tissue, and dripped pungent-smelling garlic juice inside.

Leaving in the spoon, Ilyenna left the wound open to the air. “Keep him warm, and keep as much of the qatcha down him as possible.” She started toward the door.

“Wait,” the woman cried.

Ilyenna turned expectantly.

“Where are you going?” The man asked. “That storm is no place for a woman like you.”

Ilyenna smiled. “The storm is exactly the place for a woman like me.”

She stepped outside. With a thought, her wings appeared. She shot into the thinning clouds. She heard the door being thrown open behind her, heard the confused shout. But she was already in the clouds.

Chriel appeared. She’d obviously been waiting for her.
“The man?”

Ilyenna shrugged. “I hope he lives.” At least, she thought she did. She felt regret for not loving him, but she didn’t think she was capable of love anymore. “My memories knew what to do to heal him. He’ll have to do the rest.”

Ilyenna felt it then, the press of summer against her. It was strong and unbearably hot. She couldn’t help but shrink before it.

Chriel looked to the south. “She’s much stronger than us. It’s her season.”

Ilyenna followed Chriel’s gaze and saw her, Leto, the summer queen. She had left when Ilyenna had begged for help, so that winter might come and restore Ilyenna.

Leto came to her with wings like maple leaves.
They were trembling with the cold. In contrast, the heat made Ilyenna shudder. But in this half space between winter and summer, both could stand before each other for a brief time.

“Thank you,” Ilyenna said simply.

Leto smiled. “In years past, I’ve fought with winter. Perhaps with you, fighting will not be necessary.”

Ilyenna dipped her head in acquiescence. “I do not wish to fight you.”

Hesitantly, Leto bent forward and touched Ilyenna’s stomach. “Every year, I have a child. But winter never has. Strange.”

Ilyenna felt the life within her, still growing, still strong.

Leto withdrew her hand. “It is summer.”

Ilyenna understood. This was not her realm, not her time. Part of her wanted to fight, to stay and revel in winter a bit longer. She’d eventually lose, but she could draw out her time. Yet she respected the summer queen and was grateful for what the woman had done for her.

“Until summer ends, winter will not come again,” Ilyenna promised.

She called her fairies to her with a thought and sped away. Behind her, she felt summer’s heat spreading through her cold like a drop of milk in water.