Ever since I was framed for killing the King, I’ve been on the run. No one wants to see the King Killer, but now, with decades to separate me from the tragedy, I don’t know if anyone would recognize me. I’ve learned to hide in the ice, the snow, the frigid breezes, and frosty nights that are my salvation from loneliness.
My hair’s longer, my wounds from that night long gone. I’m not clumsy with the magic gifted to me now, and I don’t allow myself to be caught by anyone anymore. Returning to chains… I'm positive it will break me for good. I’m no longer gangly, years of nothing but solitude convincing me to work out and grow into the tall body I had before dying. It should make me somewhat intimidating to the boy, but he just looks pissed off.
The kid continues to stare at me, curiosity heavy in his gaze, and a few seconds later, a motley crew appears through the lush green trees behind him.
Green. Everything down here is green. Lively. It’s the opposite of home. I usually try to stay out of sight to avoid run-ins like these.
Today, that didn’t happen. The goddamned Flowerborne, strange beasts rising in Wonderland, made mecurious, almost getting me killed again. There’s no reason that Flowerborne almost should have gotten a bite out of me if I had simply used my magic and gotten away.
Of the trio who appear, there are two young boys, about the same age as the first, and an older man. He moves forward quickly, taking me in with a mix of curiosity and fear in his eyes, and slides himself between me and the boy.
“Ray,” the man says, eyeing me carefully. I’m wondering if he’s related to the boy; they seem to have the same hair and eyes. The other two have different appearances altogether. One has dark hair and orange-red eyes, while the other has aristocratic features, purple eyes, and—
I blink, focusing on him. His skin is odd, not quite a sickly gray but something that reminds me of gunmetal gray. And… are those wings?
“Hey there,” the man says, distracting me from the boys who followed him. He kneels down near me, and protectively, I grab for my staff. It’s brought me this far, and I refuse to let the Purple Heart wood out of my reach.
If my reaction bothers him, he doesn’t let on. He’s a mirror image of the younger boy with the sword and bow, his hair darker and streaked with gray. He sports a thick beard and emerald-green eyes.
His eyes take me in carefully, as if looking for a threat. I don’t have the same earth-tones to my clothing as the others do, and the muted grays, ivory, and cerulean of the Frostlands stand out from the other kingdoms. I wait, expecting him to send me on and let me deal with my Flowerborne-induced wound alone. It barely grazed me, but those monsters leave a sting anytime they get their teeth in you.
Although it doesn’t matter much, it’s not fatal, and my ice helps to close the wound quickly, so it’ll heal in its own time. I can tell it’s going to be an inconvenience, though.
He offers me a hand. “I’m Jacob. Let’s get you up, lad. Are you out here on your own?” He stares at me, questions in his green eyes.
“You shouldn’t answer that,” the boy with orange eyes calls across the space. “It's not safe to tell someone you don't know that you’re alone.”
Jacob blows out a breath, shaking his head. “Not now, Zarev.”
“But–”
“I don’t think anyone’s hunting him,” the green-eyed boy says. These kids are full of opinions, it seems. “You being hunted?”
I hesitate, darting my eyes between the four of them. Only the one with wings stays quiet, and his expression is as stony as his skin. Jacob’s hand remains suspended in the air, and if I take it, I’m afraid it’ll invite these people into my little world. I’m better off alone. “No.”
“Being lost isn’t a crime, boys,” Jacob says, nudging his hand a little closer. “Come on, son, let’s get you up.”
He doesn’t ask for my name, which I like, and after another moment, I let him help me up. I sway on my feet a little, slamming my staff down for balance, and a patch of ice blossoms beneath the base.
Three gasps follow, but not from Jacob. If anything, he looks intrigued.
“You have magic?” Zarev asks, stepping closer. Now he’s interested, but there’s still a guarded look in his gaze.
“Ice,” I say, keeping my answer vague. Even after all this time, I’m not entirely sure tof he extent of the magic. I don’t have a mentor; the Snow Queen would rather see me dead than help a moon-cursed boy.
“You’re not the only one with powers now, Lucius,” Ray comments, turning to the boy with wings. He stays silent,tilting his head to one side as Ray snickers. “Maybe he can freeze your spell?”
“That’s not funny,” Lucius hisses, shooting me a look. Those strange eyes flash, and he rocks back on his heels. The wings, folded at his back, twitch. “You know that’s not how it works.”
“Boys,” Jacob chastizes, cutting into their banter. He nods to me, and I wish he didn’t. “We have a guest. Let’s be civil.”
“With a magic wielder?" Zarev says again, and although he seems interested, he doesn’t sound happy. “Magic can’t be trusted.”
“Not all magic is bad,” Jacob argues, and I’m suddenly intrigued. This is the first time I’ve spoken to civilians outside of the Frostlands, and already it’s a completely different experience. These people have a kindness to them that the north lacks. “Just different.”
Zarev drops his voice. “Well, if he’s got magic, he could come from Wonderland–”
“I’m from the Frostlands,” I cut in, feeling the need to defend myself. “I was born and raised there.”
