The librarian rolled his eyes. “Not pungent. Maybe puissant.”
Andar scoffed. “Do not expect Her Majesty to be fooled by your false flattery. What are you trying to worm out of her favor?”
“Nothing,” Librarian said, nudging his horse around us. “We still have a solid day of travel before we reach the queen of Kerebos, who is expecting us, and we should take advantage of the last hour of sunlight today.” He bent his head in a curt nod. “We’ll be continuing on.”
“Ah, but we have the audience of a queen now!” The short rider brought a harmonica to his lips and trilled four notes of a regal announcement. “Surely we must stop for the occasion!”
Andar raised a brow.
“Indeed!” Dancer pounced on the idea without missing a note on his lute. “I am Amador, from the summer kingdom of Veran.” He pointed his eyes at the librarian. “My companions are Aakil and Bummel,” he finished by glancing at the shortest who grinned and played on his harmonica again.
Andar frowned. “Must you continue that incessant noise?”
Amador and Bummel laughed while Aakil rolled his eyes at the sky. Amador sped up the tempo on his lute, but continued playing the sickeningly sweet notes. “Yes, tragically, we must.” He winked at me. “It helps with the wildlife, you know.”
I ignored Andar’s disgust. I didn’t like the noise any more than he did, but these three summer fae seemed genuinely interested in me. That was a sensation I’d missed in my isolation—people paying attention to me.
The librarian—Aakil—had stopped trying to flee the meadow. “Are you truly a queen?”
I offered him a gracious smile, but it came out more feral and calculated. When was the last time I’d truly smiled? Had it been with the human who destroyed me? Or had it been even longer?
I covered my awkward expression with words, careful not to reveal my name. “Yes, Aakil. I am Her Majesty, the Snow Queen of Kalshana.”
Amador lingered on a note just long enough that I could tell it hadn’t been intentional, but he quickly resumed his never-ending song. Aakil blinked at me.
Bummel laughed and slid off his horse. “Forgive our reactions, Your Majesty. It’s just that in Veran we were under the impression that Kalshana has been without a queen, or any ruler, for the last forty years.”
Forty years.
It was certainly possible. Forty years is nothing in the life of a fae. I had felt years slipping by as my magical prison contorted time, but I’d had no idea how long I’d been stuck there.
Forty years. So much time wasted. At least it was still within a human’s lifespan.
Because somewhere, most likely hiding in an obscure village and thinking they were safe from my vengeance, were two humans who needed to die at my hands for the time they stole from me. Or swear their ever-living fealty to me.
My face must have reflected my deathly thoughts because Bummel’s laughter faded, though Amadorcontinued to play the irritatingly sweet lute. “Not exactly without a ruler. I’ve heard rumors of a fae prince here who is trying to unite the noble families.”
Andar stepped closer to me, protectively angling at my side, and spoke to the summer fae. “Perhaps it would be best if you bowed and continued on your journey.”
Aakil bowed his head promptly but stopped riding away. He opened his mouth to say something, but Amador’s lips turned up in a flirtatious smile. He kept playing and rushed to speak before his companion. “But to meet the legendary Snow Queen! ‘Tis a privilege no others can claim this decade! And we’re Veran’s most famed Legend Makers. We’d be delighted to share the story of your return across the four realms!”
Share my story?
They were not interested in me. They only wanted to use me to further their ridiculous career. Disappointment welled up inside me and erupted into anger. I would not be ignored. And I would not be used.
I would deal with their treachery the same way I’d handled those who’d threatened me at the height of my reign.
I tugged on the moisture in the air, drawing it around their three bodies, and freezing them in place.
Chapter 5: Andar
Ice thickened around the three storytellers’ shocked expressions. Aakil slipped off his horse, cracking the ice that surrounded his body. The cracks instantly smoothed over in a new layer, trapping him in his own private frozen blanket, like the others.
The queen created trouble at every opportunity. If she didn’t rein in that impulsivity, she’d make herself more miserable than any frozen prison had. She would become nobody’s favorite queen if she froze everyone who suggested something she didn’t like. And what exactly did she not like about them singing her story?
I buried the cringe that twisted my stomach as I realized that their lives rested in my hands. I hated that responsibility. Hated their lives hanging in my power. Hated the fact that no matter what I thought about it, I couldn’t save them.
But the queen wasn’t thinking. She didn’t really want to kill them. She wanted their attention—she just didn’t realize it. And even if she was unconscious of the fact, killing them instead of earning their loyalty would only make her more miserable.
