Woman. I’m twenty now. That witch stole nearly two years of my life. How much has The Snow Queen taken of Kai’s? Is he still alive?
She killed his father and brothers. She has much to answer for—if I can ever find her ice palace to confront her, like the doomed, lovesick fool I am.
The River Witch was right about the Winterlands being infested with dangerous beasts.
Wind cuts right through the knitted jacket. I keep my mittened hands jammed in my pockets. My toes go numb despite the warm wool socks and sturdy boots.
I am a child of summer. I’m not built to endure this frozen landscape, and I’m not yet in the northern highlands where the fae queen is said to reign.
A shadow stalks me from the left. I clutch the solid walking stick I found, gauging how well it would work as a weapon. I’m a long way from safety, now. I can handle one wolf—I hope.
But not the second that trots confidently out of the shadows on my right. Nor the other three that pad out into the snow-covered field ahead. The pack knows I can’t outrun them. I’m an easy meal.
“Go away,” I shout. “Leave me alone. I didn’t come all this way just to get eaten.”
A bell-like tinkle in the distance momentarily tugs at my attention. I listen hard, but all I can hear is the wind and the pounding of my own heart. It’s enough of a distraction.
The closest wolf lunges. I yelp and whirl away. Its teeth click together in an audible snap. That was only the opening attack. The three in the field charge, fanning out to prevent me from trying to run.
The fifth one holds back. I keep it in the periphery of my vision. Once the first four have tired me sufficiently, it will go for my throat. I don’t need to have encountered wolves before to know the feeling of being hunted and intuit their strategy.
“Go. Away,” I growl. My hands are too cold to grip the walking stick properly. I hold it out like a sparring bar.
The three reach me and jump all at once. One hits my chest. I fall back with a scream, kicking it off me and floundering to get up, grateful for the stick that kept it from biting my throat. A wolf sinks its teeth into my boot. It hurts, but the leather holds. I twist and manage to smack the animal’s head. It growls. I hit it again, and again, until blood stains its fur and it finally releases me.
Bells jingle. The animals’ heads swivel in unison. I stagger to my feet, clinging for dear life to the walking stick, shaking from head to foot from adrenaline and frostbite. To my astonishment, a sleigh pulled by six reindeer careens out of the darkness.
The Snow Queen.
Panic blooms. But these are real reindeer, not made from snow flurries. Their antlers are strung with glowing beads. Bellsset at even intervals on their tack chime musically. The driver’s face is obscured by a hooded cloak.
“Get in,” says a feminine voice. “Hurry.”
Whether it’s my nemesis or not, I have no choice but to accept her aid if I wish to live. I snatch up my pack, throw it at her feet, and scramble in after it, abandoning my trusty stick where it falls.
The last wolf, the most dangerous one that held back, surges forward.
“Go!” the driver calls out. Bells ring. I’m thrown back against the seat. The wolf runs alongside the sleigh for a few yards until the woman reaches past me to throw something at it. Light bursts. The animal yelps in pain and falls back.
“The Light of Aurora protects us,” my rescuer says with satisfaction. “I am Princess Christabel, Keeper of the Lights. What are you doing all the way out here?”
“I’m looking for The Snow Queen.”
Christabel casts me an incredulous glance. “I should have left you out there,” she says darkly. “I will take you to the castle and attempt to make you see reason.”
“Don’t you want to know why I’m looking for her, first?”
“I already know,” she answers grimly. “You’re searching for someone. Every few years, we get a traveler like you. Usually women, but not always, searching for a lost loved one. The Snow Queen likes handsome men. She promises them power—a lie, for she does not wish to share her domain with anyone. But men are easily beguiled by her beauty.”
“How do I break her spell?”
Christabel looks at me pityingly. In the soft glow of the lights around the edge of the sleigh, her pale hair glows almost like a source of light itself. Her eyes are a shade of midnight streaked with green, like the northern lights dancing overhead. This landscape is foreign to me, from the constant, bone-aching,teeth-rattling cold, to the never-ending snow, to the sky playing tricks overhead. A surge of homesickness brings tears to my eyes.
“You can’t,” Christabel says flatly, staring straight ahead. Her profile is beautiful too, with a straight nose and full red lips. “Only he can. She took Prince Kai, didn’t she? You’re from Montrace?”
“Yes.”
“No wonder you have no idea how to dress for this weather. Put this on.”
