Frost Kisses (Bitter Frost #4: Frost Series) (15 page)

Kian looked almost sad. “I remember serving with you in battle, Flynn,” he said softly. “And I do regret that it has come to this. You were my friend, once!”

“And you were once loyal,” Flynn shot back. “Now raise your sword and show me if you're really the Prince you say you are, or only your mother's bastard!”

The two rushed at each other, their swords raised high in the air. My heart stopped, and then beat only with every blow of the two swords; I bit my lip in fear. Flynn was one of the Winter Court's best swordsmen – and while I knew of Kian's skill I knew too that he was evenly matched by this fanatical interloper, who knew how to match each one of Kian's blows and thrusts for a parry of his own. Flynn had, as Kian had said, served in battle alongside him, and so he knew Kian's fighting style, Kian's moves, better than almost anybody. He could predict them in advance – but Kian could predict his.

Even the wolves had grown distracted now, and stopped to watch the fight between Kian and Flynn. Logan had managed to defeat his two aggressors, who lay moaning in a pile at his feet, still in their animal form, and those few remaining rogue wolves cautiously stood back, waiting for the battle to decide their fate. If Flynn fell, they knew, they were lost – and so they chose to bide their time. A hush fell over the cave, formerly alive and thronging with the sounds of battle, as Kian and Flynn clashed swords, their weapons glowing silver and blue.

“Kian!” My voice caught within my throat, but Logan put a hand on my shoulder. “This is a Winter battle,” he said. “Don't interfere – your Summer magic may only hurt Kian, not help him!”

My body ached to step in to help Kian with every ounce of magic in my being, but I knew Logan was right. Who knew how Summer magic – even Summer magic with a touch of Winter - would respond if I tried to step into the fray? I hadn't learned to fully control it yet – I was just as likely to injure Kian as I was to fell Flynn.

Still, my heart raced as first Flynn, then Kian, seemed to be the victor each advancing on the other and retreating in equal measure. They leaped over boulders, hanging from stalactites, and at last raced out of the cave to do their battle in the open air, beneath the stars that shone so coldly upon us.

“I've got you now!” crowed Flynn, as with a strong blow he knocked Kian to his feet.

“No!” I whispered.

But Kian was not to be felled so easily. In an instant he was back upon his feet, knocking Flynn back with the full force of his sword, slashing a deep wound across his chest as he did so. Silver rushed from the wound, reflecting the light of the stars. Flynn staggered back, shocked at his own defeat. “You think you've won, don't you?” He stumbled backwards. “Maybe for this time. But no matter what you do, boy, no matter how hard you try, nothing will change – do you understand me? The biggest war Feyland has ever experienced is upon us now – and there's nothing you can do to change that!”

With that, Flynn opened his wings – beating black and silver against the night – and flew into the air, his wound still dripping silver as his wings propelled him upwards, towards retreat. At this sign the rogue wolves, too, gave up the battle, and ran yelping and barking into the darkness, until only the surviving part of our men remained.

Logan was pacing around sadly, tallying up the number of the dead with a cold efficiency that did not mask the pain in his eyes. “Twenty wolves have been lost today,” he said softly, as the remaining number of his army gathered round, their eyes deep with the pain of their loss. “Twenty brave wolves – you will all honor them.”

One by one, the wolves raised up a long howl to honor those who had departed. Kian and I looked down, solemnly. We were not part of this. This was the land of the wolves, where we would always be outsiders.

“Jonah!” Logan called out, and immediately a tawny yellow wolf transformed into a skinny, slightly gawky teenaged boy with sandy-brown hair and an awkward expression. “Come here!”

“Reporting for duty, s-sir!” said Jonah, with a too-quick salute. “Anything you need!”

“I want you to lead the rest of the pack back to the Manor,” Logan said.

“Me, sir?” Jonah's eyes bulged wide.

“You have shown great prowess in battle today.” Logan let a small smile escape his lips, and Jonah beamed with pride at the acclamation.

“It's my first battle, sir.”

“I am sure it will not be your last – you are a brave warrior. I charge you to lead the pack back safely now – and send word to the rest of the loyal Wolf Fey who are in the forests now that they too will be called upon to fight against the rogues. Send word to me at the Summer Court if there are any developments.”

“Right, sir!” Jonah crowed happily. “As you wish!” He transformed once more into a wolf – he looked, with his long limbs and unwieldy posture, more like an overgrown puppy than a fearsome soldier, but I could see the bravery and loyalty in his eyes.

Jonah began bounding away into the distance, the rest of the wolves following behind in a single tight pack.

“Kian!” I rushed towards him, at last able to express my emotion. He encircled me in his arms. His body was still weak from the beating he sustained, but the joy in his eyes was unmistakable.

“I'm so glad,” he whispered in my ear, “to have you back.”

“I'm glad you're here!” I held him closer.

“No time for pleasantries!” Logan's voice was solemn, though I could detect the jealousy in it. “It's time to make our way to the Summer Court once and for all!

Chapter 16

A
fter two more days of hiking and camping – made rather slower by the fact that we now lacked a horse, and I didn't dare ask Logan if Kian could join me in riding on his back – we at last caught sight of the glorious spires of the Summer Court in the distance. At first glance, it seemed that the Summer Court was as beautiful as it ever was. The spires were still covered in bougainvillea – purple flowers that hung from vines that twisted and turned around the palace roofs. I could still see the streaming fountains that divided the gardens from the orchards, and even from a distance of two miles I could smell the scent of bergamot and clementines from the orange groves. Yet somehow my heart was still filled with sadness, as if something weren't right. No, something had gone on in my kingdom since my absence. The blue sky, the shining sun, the thriving vines were all hiding something. Something wrong.

My suspicions were confirmed as Logan, Kian and I entered the town center of the Summer Court. I remembered this town as being a lively place, filled with joy and chanting: the humming of the baker, the chortling of small children running underfoot. The jovial Summer Knights, who used to serve as friendly guards in the town square, had vanished – and with them it seemed the rest of the town had gone. The streets were empty, even ghostly, and my cough spread echoes around the squares and alleys of the city.

“Where is everybody?” I whispered. My voice came back to me in echoes: “where is everybody? Where is everybody?” But I received no answer.

At last I heard a low wail rising in the distance, a low, gravelly sound that seemed to be full of misery and pain. At first I thought it was a dying animal, but as we approached and came closer, I realized that the sound was collective: a crowd unified in a single groan.

“Shame!” came the cry. “Shame! Shame upon the Winter Court.” A group of about two hundred fairies was gathered in the main square of the town, standing before a makeshift candles and a portrait – moving and shimmering in the way that fairy paintings always moved.

I stopped short. The painting was of me. This place was my memorial. The thought made me feel queasy.

“Hurry,” Logan hissed. “Hide Kian.” The noble Prince's sheer blue eyes would surely give him away as a member of that hated sect, even to those who did not know what the Winter Prince looked like.

I removed my pixie green-velvet cloak from my back and hurriedly threw it over Kian's back. He pulled it over his forehead and around his chin, obscuring his face from view.

“Shame!” The cry started up again, and then one Summer fairy – a haggard old man that seemed familiar, but whose name I did not know, stood up before the crowd, pointing at the picture of me with a shaking finger. “Winter must pay for what they've done!” cried the man to what seemed to be evident popular approval. “They have murdered not one but two of our queens! The prince, the heir to the Winter throne, pretended to love our Queen, only to murder her in cold blood on the very eve of the treaty!”

“For shame!” the crowd chanted. “Devious! Shame!”

Kian looked down sheepishly.

I pulled out some remaining clothing from my bag – a shawl to disguise my head, and another to cover up the pixie clothes I still wore. I wanted to figure out the situation before coming so obviously back to life.

We slipped past the mourning crowd and into the palace, surprised to find that no guards stood before the great gate that led to the gardens within.

“What's going on?” I asked Logan, when we were out of earshot of the others. “What happened here?” The whole palace seemed to be a ghost-palace. Nothing had been moved since my absence; nothing had been changed – and yet a feeling of dread grew within me.

That dread grew greater still when we entered the palace. Here the place bore the clear sign of an attack: silver streaked the marble floors, the curtains were torn and rent to bits. The crystal and stained glass windows were shattered. Even the Great Hall had been left unmended – clearly in the same state of chaos it had been since the siege.

“I never thought it would get this bad,” said Logan. “When I left – after you were murdered, or at least, we thought you were murdered, it was awful! We thought it was the Winter Knights who had betrayed us – in all the chaos we didn't realize that it was the Pixies masquerading as Summer Knights who had started the fighting – and we went on a rampage – murdering so many of the Winter Knights, drunk on our own violence, murdering so many men...so many innocent men.” He looked ashamed. “The fighting grew worse. The Winter Queen and many of her cohorts were able to escape, killing so many of our men in the process. The next day, the surviving Summer Knights called up an army: not only the generals and high-ranking officials who were at the signing but rather called up all eligible fairy warriors, summoning them to battle. I knew it was no longer safe for me in the Palace. The people had been willing to overlook their wariness of the Wolf in their midst as long as you were alive, but the second you were gone they lost faith in me. I was the one to suggest peace, after all, and they blamed me for the attack. They said that it was because we had let in the Winter soldiers that we had made ourselves vulnerable to a siege.”

“No!” I cried.

“It's true,” said Logan. “I didn't know it would get this serious -

“Then...who's in charge now?”

“One of my second-in-commands, a Summer Knight called Ladislaw, was elected second in command. Only...I could have sworn I saw him die in the fight. I got suspicious...”

“You think it's Wort, glamoured up as this Ladislaw?” I cut in.

“I wouldn't be at all surprised if it were,” Logan scowled.

We heard voices and footsteps and rushed to hide behind a collar. A group of three men, all evidently high-ranking Summer Knights, appeared.

“There he is – Ladislaw!” Logan whispered, and my eyes went straight to a very distinctive cut on Ladislaw's arm....just the size and shape of the wound I had delivered to Wort. I squeezed Logan and Kian's hands to signal what I knew.

“Perfect,” Wort was saying. “We must keep the palace exactly the way it is...”

“But, my lord, how can we live in such a place?”

“Respect, Firemouse!” Wort said, in an insufferable tone. “We commemorate the death of our beloved Queen, and keep the palace the way it was at her death – to remind our people of the dangers of believing those wretched Winter traitors! To remind the people just what we are fighting for!”