The queen raced across the courtyard, her long hair and furs streaming out behind her. “Strike him down!”
A row of archers on the wall took aim at Bosco’s fragile bubble. The arrows took off, but Freelana and her sisters moved first. Flying fast and linking energies, the fairies cast a bright glow of magic around the bubble and escorted it into the sky.
“No! You can’t leave me. I won’t permit it.” Maeve shot an arc of power from her fingertips into the air. It streaked out and hit the clump of fairies, exploding the shield in a burst of bright light and leaving the bubble exposed.
There was the sound of ice cracking as the five fairies shattered into icy crystals that rained down on the pavement of the courtyard, tinkling as if they were screaming their last cries.
Siobhan threw her left hand up, shielding her eyes, but she couldn’t shield her heart from the pain as the remains of the fairies fell, glittering purple on the snow. She had no time to grieve. The queen sent off another blast into the sky, shooting for Bosco. Siobhan sent her power out in the only way she could, forming a cascade of frost flowers that did nothing to stop the lightning-fast line of power. She could only watch in horror as the magic streamed toward the bubble.
And fell short. Siobhan nearly crumpled with relief. The fairies’ sacrifice had not been in vain. Bosco’s bubble was out of range.
“No! No one leaves me. No one!” Another and another bolt shot out from the queen’s fingers, lighting up the sky, until the bubble was too far away to even see Bosco’s desperate face pressed against the clear sides. The queen stopped shooting, the last bolt of her power fading into the night. Fingers now aimed at Siobhan, she strode toward her. “You! Dying is too good for you.”
“You’re too late.” Siobhan stood tall waiting for the queen’s final blow. “He’s safe now.”
The queen’s eyes narrowed into slits and Siobhan could see her fate in their depths. She’d have no time to mourn Freelana and her sisters, but at least Bosco was safe. He’d be able to grow up far from here and reach manhood without the evil of the queen touching him.
There was a shudder from beneath Siobhan’s feet. A pulse of power flowed from the very walls of the courtyard, along the icy stones of the courtyard and into the queen as she shouted up at the bubble fading fast into the night.
“Bosco, you have one hundred years to regret tonight and how you’ve failed to serve me. One hundred years to figure out how to appease my anger. One hundred years to know your sister is here and waiting for you, unable to speak or eat or even shed a tear.” Her voice took on the magical thrum of a spell and the temperature of the cold winter’s night got even colder.
Siobhan shivered in her warm winter clothes, her breath freezing in her lungs.
Magic, a dark poisonous shade of blue Siobhan had never seen before, rocketed out of the queen’s fingers. Siobhan had no time to throw up more than the barest of her shields before the blue light poured over her. Tendrils of cold worked their way into her eyes and nose, crystallizing everywhere they touched.
The queen was still shouting at the sky. “You’d better come back with an army, my little Winter King, because without me feeding you power, you’re weaker than the least of my lovers. You’ll never have enough strength to take me on. Never be able to save the sister who has sacrificed her life for you.” She stopped her tirade and looked at Siobhan. Her lip curled. “Poor thing, if you don’t enter hibernieth, you won’t make it the full one hundred years. You’ll just be a frozen husk when he comes to save you.”
The tendrils raced towards Siobhan’s heart, snaking along the lines of her power, freezing her from the inside out. She lost the ability to move and she could feel her life dwindling.
She reacted instinctively, reaching into the depths of her being and pulling out an elvatian’s last defense. As a thick crust of ice formed over her body, she entered the suspended state of hibernieth.
Deep in dormancy, she wouldn’t know what was happening around her. But she’d survive. And, when Bosco came back—and she knew he would—she’d be alive.
The last words of the queen faded as Siobhan entered the deep sleep. “One hundred years, Bosco. One hundred years from now is the day you both die.”
Chapter Two
Doyle Atavantador, last ice dragon of a very long ago world, took a second pass over the massive complex that had become the Winter Court, waiting for the fleeing figures below to clear a space for him to land. He cursed under his breath. Couldn’t she stop building one icy wall after another? What had started as a simple keep now stretched over a half mile square, and the queen showed no sign of stopping her building binge.
He made a sharp turn, pivoting on the point of his left wing and cutting down sharply in order to make the landing in the center courtyard. At least the doors into the castle were tall enough so he could walk into the main room where Maeve, the Winter Queen, held court.
Normally he walked in and everything stopped, but today he had to use his massive bulk and push his snout into the crowd to make the lords and ladies stand aside and let him through. By the time he had reached the front of the room where the queen sat front and center on a giant white throne gilded with silver paint, he was fuming.
He only came to court once a year, you would think she could treat him with the respect he deserved. But no. Maeve’s attention was focused on a pitiful, sniveling elvatian peasant, huddling in front of the throne. Not her usual type, the girl’s skin had a blue tint to it, and chunks of melting ice dripped off of her, landing on the floor with wet thuds.
Maeve was in a state. Her entire body was rigid with agitation, her tendons individual wires on the back of her hands as she gripped the arms of her throne. “I’ve waited three days to defrost you and he still isn’t here.” She whipped her gaze to the smaller throne beside her where her current Winter King sat trembling. “It’s been a hundred years, and I know he’s not dead. Is he so disloyal that he wouldn’t even come back to save her?”
The boy in the throne nodded. Doyle looked at him, then had to look again. Where was the boy? Doyle had heard that the elvatian could fade away into nothingness, but it was extremely rare. He’d never seen it before, but here was the evidence right before his very eyes.
You could see right through his body all the way to the painted snowflake on the back of the throne. Even the skimpy clothes Maeve had permitted him to wear, while she dressed in white polar bear furs, were nearly translucent.
Maeve rose from her throne and walked down the short flight of steps to where the girl huddled on the floor. “Well? You loved him enough to sneak over my walls, despite your lack of power. You lost your friends, your home, and now you are going to lose your life. Over what? A moody child who even a hundred years later hasn’t grown up enough to show his face to me. Or maybe he’s just too busy with that Black Court fiasco. I hope your sacrifice gave you some pleasure, girl, because this whole thing is making me angry.”
The prisoner didn’t say anything, just shook, looking like nothing more than a poorly wrung-out mop, left out to freeze.
Maeve kept her courtroom cold so less people would bother her, but it didn’t work on Doyle. Ice dragons thrived in cold conditions. He could sit here all day for what he was due. Not that he was going to. She owed him and whatever sad story was sitting in front of her could wait. He was due his tithe and he was due now.