Winter Queen (9 page)

“I can hurt you plenty, Ilyenna.” He moved to his feet, staring down any woman who dared meet his gaze. “There are no Shyle or Argons in this room.
Only tiams. And tiams obey. Any who wishes to ease her burdens, has only to . . . keep an eye on things.”

Ilyenna knew she should keep her mouth shut, but she said it anyway. “You won’t find traitors here.”

He kicked her thigh. She felt it all the way to her bone. Her muscle seized up and she grunted, her body straining against the pain.

“You see?
Plenty of pain.” Thrusting his axe through his belt loop, he headed for the door. “I won’t wait, Ilyenna.”

Narium was there in an instant to pull her to her feet. “You’re a Shyle,” she whispered fiercely. “He cannot take that from you. If he did, all
honor would be lost. No clanmen can do such a thing.”

Ilyenna limped toward the door. She didn’t trust Darrien’s honor any more than she trusted a pig to stay out of the slop, but she nodded anyway. With her head down, she followed Darrien toward the house, rubbing her thigh as she went. Was Rone watching? She tried to force her steps to fall evenly.

Please stay away, Rone. He’ll kill you. He’ll kill us all, she begged silently.

In the kitchen, Metha looked up from her blankets before the fire. When she saw Ilyenna with Darrien, she glared so hotly Ilyenna wanted to slap her. Could the woman actually think she
wanted to be here? Darrien led her to the second floor and opened a door. Inside was a wide bed covered in furs.

Dread squeezed her heart. The walls were coated with mounted heads, skulls, and antlers of almost every creature she’d ever seen—boar, deer, bear, mountain lion. Above the bed, her clan belt had been nailed to the wall.
Another of his trophies. Ilyenna stared at it.

Darrien pointed to a rough-hewn ladder that led to a trapdoor. “You choose.
My bed or the attic.”

He wasn’t going to force her. Despite herself, she gasped in relief. She walked to the ladder and looked back at him. She placed both hands on the rungs and climbed. At the top, she opened the trapdoor and glanced around. The only light came from below, and all she could make out in the attic were cobwebs, dead insects, and dust. She pulled herself up. Even at a crouch, the ceiling brushed her shoulders. She peeked down.

Darrien looked up at her. “You’ve but to ask, and you can sleep in a real bed with blankets and pillows.”

And you, her mind finished for him. She moved away from the hole, circling the cramped room, looking for snakes or mice or any other number of things she could throw at Darrien’s head.

“Perhaps you should stay here until you’re willing to divulge the secret of your healing.” He climbed up the ladder and shut the trapdoor, plunging the attic into total darkness. She heard the ladder scrape as he pulled it away.

But as her eyes began to adjust, she realized it wasn’t
pitch black after all. A shaft of moonlight filtering through a small chink in the mortar between river stones. Light. It wasn’t much, but it was something. Wearily, she curled up under it.

9. Supple as a Sapling

Tears kept blurring the fr
ozen footprints. Ilyenna pushed them off her cheeks as fast as she could, and still they kept coming. She hated being a girl. Hated that Rone and Bratton wouldn’t let her go with them because of it. Hated that the tears came whether she wanted them to or not. Hated dresses and being smaller and weaker.

She saw the river like a dark ribbon on the snow. Argonholm was built just beyond its flood plain, past the ridge that was iced with frozen trees, and next to the lake. Ilyenna didn’t want her mother and father to see she’d been crying, so she sniffed and wiped her nose on her sleeve, determined to stop.

Sitting on her bottom, she slid down the slippery bank to the riverside. The layers of ice deadened the sound of the rushing water. But Ilyenna saw it below, black and colder than ice. It had taken all her courage to cross it the first time, when Rone and Bratton had been within calling distance.

Now she was alone, and she couldn’t swim. Few of her clan could. The lakes of the Shyle were fed by glaciers. They were clear as the finest glass . . . and cold as the ice that bore them.

Ilyenna was a little below where Bratton and Rone had crossed, but not much. It was less steep here. She’d find their path easily on the other side. She eased her foot out and listened for any cracks. Silence. She took another step, her arms out like a bird in flight. Her hands started sweating inside her mittens. She slid one foot forward and brought the other behind. Slowly, slowly, she shuffled across the river.

When she was three-quarters of the way across, she heard a loud crack, like the sound of an axe chopping a tree. She
froze, her heart in her throat. Even slower than before, she eased her foot forward and gingerly put her weight on it. The ice cracked again.

For an agonizing moment, she waited. At the sound of the third crack, she bolted. She felt the ice splinter beneath her feet and fall away.

“Ilyenna. Ilyenna,” someone whispered.

Ilyenna struggled to free herself from the dream. She saw someone ease the trapdoor open. After leaving her locked in the attic for an entire night and a day, had Darrien come to break his word? Well, not without her putting up a fight. She lurched to her feet, a scream on her lips.

Rone’s head appeared. At the sight of her balled fists, his eyes widened. “You planning on killing me, then?”

All the fight went out of her, and she slumped back onto the dirty boards. She wouldn’t admit it, but she was weak from hunger and sore from Darrien’s fists and feet. Her head ached for want of water. Though Hannie had snuck her a little food and water, it hadn’t been enough, and Ilyenna had been sick with heat during the day.

“How did you get away?” she asked Rone now. He usually watched for her after his day’s work was done, but to sneak away in the middle of the day?

“That’s the thing about gathering river stones—you’re out of sight at the river often as not.” Rone finished climbing up and handed her a waterskin. She gulped down the liquid. Almost immediately, she felt the water traveling from her shriveled stomach outward, spreading through her chest and abdomen, to her aching joints and withered brain. She took another drink and another, until she was almost drunk with water. Suddenly drowsy, she
lay her head on Rone’s lap.

“How did you get in here?” she whispered.

He began to stroke her hair. “Not sure why Darrien thought it a good idea to take so many of us. The more tiams there are, the stronger we become.”

“And the weaker our clans,” she responded.

He paused for a moment. “How so?”

She took another long drink. “We’re hostages. Our clans won’t attack when their daughter’s lives are at stake.”

Rone grimaced. “I hadn’t thought of that. You’ve dried blood on your cheek.” He pulled his sleeve over his hand, dribbled a little water on it, and began wiping the corner of her mouth. As he worked, he kept glaring at the attic door, as if he’d like nothing more than to sneak down there, find Darrien, and put a knife in his heart. A part of her longed for him to do just that.

“I didn’t even find out you were up here until today. Why didn’t you call for me when he took you from the others?” Rone asked.

She heard the accusation in his voice. There was hurt, too, but she didn’t understand why. “You know why,” she said. She winced at his scrubbing and pressed her hand over his to keep it still. He paused and left his hand on her cheek. It felt good to lie there like this with him. Too good. A sister wouldn’t have these kinds of thoughts.

Embarrassed, she pushed back. Rone watched her before looking away. Slowly, she worked her stiff jaw. It was swollen and no doubt bruised.

He handed her a cloth-wrapped package. “Mother worried they weren’t letting you eat again.”

Ilyenna pulled back the rag to find a few chunks of bread and smoked ham. She shoved some bread into her mouth and chewed as quickly as her sore jaw could bear.

Rone chuckled. “I guess Mother was right.”

Ilyenna guzzled more water.
“My clanwomen?”

He sighed and looked away. “The Shyle are strong. They’ll survive.” He surveyed her. “How was your seventh day?”

Her frantic chewing slowed. Had it really only been seven days since Darrien had taken her? It was a sobering thought. She wanted to confide her fears to Rone. But what could she tell him? That Darrien would push her until she broke? That she could already see fractures in her resolve? That marrying him didn’t seem half so bad as starving to death? If she told Rone any of that, he’d do something stupid and get them all killed. She swallowed. “What happens if a tiam runs, Rone?”

His gaze swung to the chink in the river stones. She waited for him to reprimand her lack of honor, to tell her to hold fast to courage. “You know what happens. Every clanman takes to his horse and they bring out the dogs. Then they bring the tiam back. But the Tyrans don’t stop there. If it’s a man, they’ve the right to kill them then and there. If it’s a woman, she loses all her rights.” He paused. “The Tyrans will pass her around before selling her to foreigners as a slave.”

The food she’d eaten rose in her throat. Rone passed her the waterskin. She drank noisily and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. He handed her a hollowed-out knot of wood with a cloth tied over it. “Mother mixed the witch hazel with some lanolin she pilfered from the kitchen. If you like, I could help you put it on.”

Ilyenna studied him for a moment before turning and pulling back her hair.

“I’m sorry my hands are so rough,” he said as he began rubbing the balm on her back. She clenched her teeth, expecting pain. But everywhere he touched seemed to sigh in relief. She found herself longing for his hands to stray from her back. She held very still, forcing herself not to think about it. They were already in enough danger.

When Rone had finished, he gathered up the rag but left the little bowl. “How long will Darrien make you stay here?”

Ilyenna shrugged helplessly.

Rone looked away. “I’m sorry I didn’t think to bring you a blanket. I’ll get you one.”

“I’m all right,” she replied. “I haven’t been cold.”

He studied her disbelievingly before getting to his feet. “I’ll figure out how to bring one before night comes.”

She could see it in his eyes. He planned on coming every evening to check on her until Darrien let her go. She understood the risk he was taking. If she were half as honorable as she’d like to think, she’d protest. But she couldn’t bring herself to. If she didn’t have something or someone to hold onto, she might go insane or worse.

She watched Rone climb down the ladder, the ghost of his touch still thick on her skin. Did he take care of her simply because he had adopted her into the Argon clan, or was there something more? She wanted more. She had for a long time, but he still thought of her as a little sister. And he probably always would.

10. Summer Queen

Footsteps sounded in Darrien’s room and up the ladder. Shuddering violently, Ilyenna drew her knees under her and waited. Bennis threw open the attic door and shot her a look of contempt. “Metha has twice the load of dishes for you to wash today.” She tromped back down the ladder and left.

Ilyenna nearly collapsed in relief. As brave as she tried to be, whenever she heard Darrien below, terror’s cold fingers danced up her spine. Glancing down the ladder, she saw the gray light of dawn touching Darrien’s array of hunting trophies. But other than their long-dead corpses and the bed, the room was empty.

With her bruised leg throbbing and cramping, she climbed down the ladder. When she reached the bottom, she slowly stretched to her full height. Her body trembled as she made her legs support her weight. It had been two and a half days since she’d stood straight. But at least her back itched more than it hurt. She limped toward the door and made her way down to the kitchen.

Inside, Metha was kneading the small of her back with her fists. She sighed heavily and lifted the weight of her stomach.

Ilyenna’s eyes widened. Metha wasn’t just large. She was with child. Oh, she was still plenty plump, but Ilyenna now noted how puffy her face and hands were, no doubt made worse by working in the hot kitchen.

Keeping her gaze averted, Ilyenna strode to the basket of dishes and walked out the door before the woman had a chance to berate her. The movement worked her blood, warming the ache in her leg.

At the stream, she knelt on the mossy bank, the water soaking her knees. Ripping off a bit of the moss, she held it to her jaw, grunting as the pressure made the ache momentarily worse. She cupped her hands and brought water to her mouth. The water slipped through her fingers, wetting the front of her overdress.

She drank until she couldn’t hold any more. Then she just sat, not caring about chores or Metha. In the silence, Ilyenna thought she heard a song, the sound soft and gentle. The breeze seemed to carry the song over and around her. Then, strangely, the wind carried bits of leaves that must have been clinging to the trees and swirled them around the branches and across the muddy earth.

Ilyenna stared. Leaves of every shape and size were flying instead of falling. She lurched to her feet and squinted. Only then did she see them—wings attached to lithe bodies. Tiny legs instead of a single stem. Hundreds of summer fairies flitted around Ilyenna. Most were differing shades of green, but some were flowers. A few looked like animals, with furry wings or fangs. Ilyenna even caught site of one with antlers.

Unease pricked her scalp. She looked for the apple blossom fairy, but couldn’t make her out.
“Jablana?”

The fairies froze, staring at her. Then, moving as one body, they all turned and flew away.

Ilyenna reached for them. “No, don’t go! Please.” But they were gone, leaving her alone again. An ache reawakened in Ilyenna’s soul. She folded her hands across her chest, instinctively trying to curl away from the pain. But it was inside her, and she couldn’t get away.

“I am told you are Ilyenna.” said a voice as sweet as honey.

Ilyenna whirled around. A shadowy form peered at her from behind a tree. A woman stepped into the light, but the shadow seemed to stick to her skin. She smiled, revealing teeth as white as pure snow. Her short black hair made swirling patterns about her regal head.

Sunlight, warm summer winds, and the smell of damp earth seemed to radiate from her, enveloping Ilyenna. The woman was as beautiful and intoxicating as the spring air filled with the scent of lilacs.

Ilyenna’s breath snagged in her throat. Just as she felt the winter fairies even when they were far away, just as she could see through the fairy’s glamour, she knew this was the summer queen. Unable to stop herself, Ilyenna reached out and touched the woman. Her skin was as warm as sun-baked rock.

To Ilyenna’s surprise, the darkness didn’t rub off. She remembered stories her brother had told her as a child—stories she’d long ago stopped believing in—about a race of people with skin as dark as charcoal. They lived far to the south, so far that no one knew if the rumors were real or stories. “You’re a Luathan,” she breathed.

“You would call me Leto.” She slowly circled Ilyenna, her gaze lingering on her bruised, blistered back. “And you are one of the clanwomen of the north. If I’m not mistaken, you also have some of the blood of the Highmen.”

Leto drifted around the clearing, stopping now and again to touch a leaf or to press her hands against the rough bark of a tree. Every plant she touched grew fatter. Blossoms opened. “
Winter is over now,” she said to Ilyenna. “Did you know? Even in your high mountains, buds are forming on the trees, and crocus blossoms peek through the snow.”

The queen’s clothes were brown and slightly tattered. The bones of her wrists protruded as if she hadn’t had much to eat lately. But despite the queen’s somewhat ragged appearance, Ilyenna was afraid. She felt very much like they were two lions circling each other. And Ilyenna was too injured and weak for a fight.

As if guessing her thoughts, Leto spread her hands. “I came because Jablana thought you needed my help.”

Trying to fight the calming effects of the summer queen, Ilyenna shook her head. “Why would you help me?”

Leto met Ilyenna’s gaze. “Two reasons. The winter queen before you was cold and cruel and cunning. She fought me bitterly before retreating every spring, destroying so much tender new growth. So this year, I killed her.”

Ilyenna took a step back as she caught sight of a blistering heat in the woman’s dark eyes—heat that would suck all the moisture from Ilyenna’s bones and leave her as brittle as dead pine needles.

“You are not like her,” Leto went on. “You are strong and flexible, like a tree bending before a strong wind instead of standing fast and being broken in two.”

“Strong as stone, supple as a sapling,” Ilyenna whispered.

Leto nodded. “Yes. That is the saying of your people. And it is true of you.”

Ilyenna sucked in a deep breath. “So you wish to choose your enemy.”

Leto didn’t deny it.

“And the other reason?”

The summer queen turned her searing gaze away. “For their queens, the fairies only take those crossing into death. Those who are strong and clever and beautiful. I was all of that and more before death came for me at the hands of those who should have been my friends.”

Their gazes met and Ilyenna saw deep empathy in Leto. Ilyenna felt herself softening, like snow seeping into the waiting ground. She thought of Rone, of her family, and a familiar ache rose up in her throat. “What if in the end, I choose not to become a winter queen? Would you still wish to help me?”

Leto tipped her head. “It is a chance I’m willing to take. But know that even as queens, we cannot upset the Balance. Our subjects are the fairies, not humans. I cannot risk directly interfering, but I will give you what aid I can.”

Leto held out her hand. On her palm was a delicate white flower with three petals and three sepals. The center of each petal was ringed with yellow and burgundy. “Only one elice flower blooms each spring.
So delicate. And yet, one petal has the strength to heal even the direst injuries. Use them wisely, and they will keep you alive until winter comes again.”

Ilyenna’s eyes were riveted to the flower. She’d never seen its kind before, though as a healer, she’d assumed she knew almost every plant. She believed it might be some kind of lily. She reached out to take it, but Leto curled her hand around the petals and pulled back.

Ilyenna suddenly understood. “And the price?”

The summer queen smiled. “My people had a saying. ‘Trick a stranger and you gain an enemy; treat him fairly and you’ve gained a friend.’ All I ask, Winter Queen, is that you retreat at the appointed time and don’t stray into summer lands.”

Ilyenna hesitated. There was so much she didn’t understand. What if Leto was somehow trying to trick her? “And you will do the same?”

“Yes.” The word sent a shudder through the forest.

When Ilyenna still hesitated, Leto went on softly, “You have been marked. I can see the shadow clinging to your skin. You will not survive the summer without my help.”

Ilyenna reached for the flower.

“Say the word.”

Ilyenna closed her eyes. “Yes.”

The forest shuddered again.

A branch snapped behind Ilyenna and her gaze darted to the path leading to the clan house. Had Darrien followed her? Would he beat her again? She backed
up, seeking the shadows the woman had emerged from. She turned to Leto. The woman had vanished. But in Ilyenna’s palm was the elice blossom. Entranced, Ilyenna studied it. She considered using it now, taking a petal and putting it in her mouth to heal herself, but she held the power to save three lives in her hands. She wouldn’t waste it on a bruised back.

“Ilyenna?”

She jumped at the voice, her hand straying to her belt knife before she realized Darrien had taken it, along with her belt. But it was Rone who came through the trees. She let out her breath in a gasp. She remembered her brother’s warning that she tell no one of the fairies. Quickly, she tucked the flower in her pocket. “You frightened me.”

“Sorry.” He glanced around cautiously before approaching her. He handed her a needle and thread. “Mother thought you might be tired of exposing your back.”

Ilyenna took the needle and fastened it to her dress. She hadn’t missed the disapproving way he looked at her bare skin. Always the protective brother. “Yes, your mother is very thoughtful.”

Rone’s brow furrowed as he studied her.
“Very well. I don’t like having your back exposed, lovely as it is.”

She knelt next to the stream and shoved a bowl into the water. The water was so icy it should’ve made her arms ache all the way to her elbows, but the cold didn’t bother her. With a start, she realized she hadn’t felt cold since the first fairy kiss.

“So, will you sew it up?” Rone asked her.

Ilyenna pushed a bowl into the water and watched it fill. “I’ll have to do it tonight. Metha won’t let me have breakfast if I’m late.”

Waiting for the sound of his footsteps to announce his departure, she scooped up a handful of sand and began scouring the dishes. Finally, she said, “Shouldn’t you get back to building the new tiam house?”

“That’s the thing about gathering river stones—you have to find them at the river.” When she didn’t laugh, he sighed and squatted next to her. “I am the clan chief, Ilyenna. I’m responsible for my clan. I can’t help but feel responsible for the Shyle as well.”

Always the clan! Could he really be so blind? She scrubbed harder.

Rone rubbed his temples. “The others are getting by, but what about you? If you don’t submit, he’ll kill you. If you do submit, you’ll die inside. I don’t see another option. I have to kill him.”

Her chest heaving, Ilyenna shot to her feet, water dripping down her shins. Rone stood as well. She drew back her hand and slapped his face. “Don’t you dare! Don’t you dare, Rone. You’ve no right to give up and blame it on me!”

Clearly stunned, he rubbed his check. “I didn’t mean—”

She jabbed her finger into his chest. “If I can bear it, you can bear it.” Her voice broke as she realized what she was saying, but the image of Rone dead burned her far worse than the thought of Darrien’s bed. “If you lay one hand on Darrien, I’ll kill you myself.”

Rone’s eyes wide, he stepped back, his expression a mix of hurt and anger. “Whenever you’re upset, you lash out at me.
The one person who’s risking everything to help you.” He spun around and strode away.

By the Balance, he was right. “I’m sorry,” she called after him, but he didn’t turn or slow. Biting the inside of her cheek so hard she tasted blood, she watched him go. She shoved the rest of the dishes into the stream and scrubbed without really caring if she got them clean or not. By the time she’d finished, she’d spent all her tears.

With the basket of clean dishes on her hip, she approached the clan house in time to see five riders gallop up and halt in front of the doors. Ilyenna inched closer. Just as the stable boy arrived to take the men’s horses, she caught sight of the knots on their belts—the Resien clan, whose lands lay to the south of the shyle. The two clans were close—almost as close as the Shyle and the Argons.

One of the Resien spotted her.
“Ilyenna?”

Her breath caught in her throat. Could it be their clan chief?
“Gen?”

He strode forward, his men following closely. His eyes lingered on her stained, tattered dress and bruised face. He pulled her around. “You’re back is bare, and beaten! What’ve they done to you?”

Undon burst out of the clan house. Gen squared his shoulders and marched over to him. “Undon, the Council has sent me to investigate your reparation.”

Undon glanced suspiciously at Ilyenna before resting his hand on Gen’s shoulder. “You’re welcome, Gen of the Resien. Come, have lamb and beer. You and your clanmen must be tired after your hard ride.”

Gen jerked out of Undon’s grasp. “I’m not here to observe the formalities. You’ve attacked two clans. We want to know why.” Gen’s expression said what his words didn’t. He didn’t think for a moment that Undon had a good reason.