There’s a sigh, and I realize it came from my father, who’s walking away from me. I start to follow, but he seems to be moving faster. The next voice that speaks is Zarev’s, and while it surprises me, I should have known he would be able to follow our little train easily.
“We’ll shadow hop down. It’s far too cold. We’re going to hide in the cave for a time and give Odette some relief.”
That’s all I hear as I stalk after my father, taking a sharp turn, and step into a large room.
I don’t know what I expected from the interior of a mountain, but the tight cave widens into a grander space, Father walking with purpose deeper into the room.
I follow him. Ban right behind me, and when I gasp and stumble to a stop, he grips my arm to help me balance.
Father moves to stand next to a figure in the same blueish hue that surrounds his spirit. But the figure he stands beside is a giant, her body ten times that of the former King, and somehow the space is large enough to accommodate her size. She doesn’t wear a crown or carry a weapon; she simply stands there, watching.
Near the two of them is a girl. Her blonde hair is frozen solid, her eyes closed, and her dress looks to be terribly aged. She’s pressed to the wall, a thick layer of frost across her body. From what I can see, she doesn’t appear to be moving.
“May I present to you, Glacia,” Father says, stealing my attention once more. “The Spirit of Winter.”
Chapter 25 Ban
Glacia.
The being that Andor spoke of, but the giant before us is nothing like I expected.
She’s almost… smooth. Like ice set into the desired shape. Her whole form is even and glassy with no sharp edges, down to her nose or ears. Everything seems very refined; even her eyes are the same glossy texture as everything else. As far as spirits go, Glacia is unlike any I have ever seen. Andor’s Icebound spirit doesn’t compare to this.
Beside me, Neve shifts forward, the movement reeking of false confidence. These skills have clearly been hammered into her head to make her a proper queen, from the straight set of her shoulders to the lift of her chin. She steps up, bows her head, and presses a hand over her chest. It’s kind of hard to believe that four days ago, her spine was ripped out.
I mimic her movement as she speaks. “Noble Spirit, I am honored to meet you.”
Glacia nods, copying the motion with a hand to her chest as well. It’s hard to tell from those expressionless eyes what she is thinking. “Queen Neve, an honor. And you’ve brought a Grim Reaper with you.”
Neve doesn’t miss a beat. “This is Ban, Your Eminence. An ally of mine, tested by time.”
I bow my head again, unsure what to say to that. Neve’s approach is more formal than mine would be.
Glacia seems unmoved by her words, and I cast a skeptical glance around the cave. Never mind the girl plastered to the wall to our right; something about this feels off. The space is filled with an unnatural cold; my fingers stiffen, and my breath comes in little puffs, which has never happened before.
A frozen girl… Is this who Anastasia meant? The one who may or may not have anything to do with Davina?
Instead of addressing Neve again, Glacia turns to Andor’s spirit. “You’ve brought me your heir. Pass the torch now and rest, tired King.”
They must have some sort of understanding, because Andor gives Neve a solemn look before he shifts forward. Neve repeats the movement, taking another step from me before her uncertainty shines through. “Father?”
Andor holds out his hand, palm facing towards us, and a blue light appears in his fist. There’s sadness in his gaze when he speaks. “We Glacias, following the reign of Glacia of Winter, carry with us the gift of ice and release. We once helped spirits of the Frostlands find their way. Now, you must discover anew what your powers are destined to be. I pass my gift onto you, Neve.”
As she walks closer, the small ball of blueish light rolls across the space toward her, like Andor blowing his daughter a kiss, and it sinks into her body.
The magic touches Neve, and as she accepts the gift, Andor slowly fades away.
“No!” she wails, throwing herself forward. There’s no one there to collide with, so her body slams into the floor. “Father, come back!Please, don’t leave me again!”
I kneel beside her, sweeping my gaze around in case Andor is someplace else and not really gone. But there’s no one else here aside from Glacia, who looks on in that sameexpressionless way. I can’t feel his spirit lingering anymore. “Neve–”
“That’s all I get?” she screams, snapping her head around to glare at me. “Momentswith my father to account for years of loss? I spent more time with my mother, who betrayed me!”
I touch her shoulder, and it’s almost worse that she doesn’t shrug me off. “Andor’s spirit needs to rest–”
“I need to rest!” she yells, shoving me. Gone is the refined queen from moments ago. “He could have stayed! He could have been the guide I need, or at least told me whatI am supposed to do with this new gift. I already have ice. This gives me nothing!”
“It gives you the power of a Glacia,” the Spirit of Winter tells us, her calming voice settling over the space like a balm. It seems to pierce Neve’s grief, causing the Queen to clench her hands together atop her chest.
