Enchanted Frost (Frost Series #8) (A YA Romantic Fantasy Adventure) Read online

  “We have to talk to the others,” said Logan. “You’re right.”

  I took his hand. “Alistair and Rose are both here in the Summer Palace,” I said. “They’ve been working on a solution to the harvest problem. They’re getting close – awfully close. With any luck, you won’t have to go on so many trips to the Land Beyond the Crystal River.”

  “That’s a mixed blessing,” said Logan, grinning. “I was getting awfully used to spending my afternoons eating a cheeseburger and surfing the Internet. I even got to catch up on TV!”

  “TV…” I couldn’t help but smile. “Funny, isn’t it? Most of the people we know here have no idea what a TV is. And I guess it’s pretty frivolous, us missing stuff like that when there’s a war on – or was.”

  “I don’t think it’s that frivolous,” said Logan, turning to me. “It’s the life we knew, after all. Don’t you miss it?”

  “I…I don’t know,” I admitted. “Sometimes. I don’t miss my family, at least. Now that my mother and father are both in Feyland, I don’t have to miss them. But I do miss the little things. Microwaves. Heating. How easy everything was, compared to here. I mean, I remember when I was worried about Clariss making fun of me at lunchtime, not about her turning into a giant serpent and eating people.”

  “What do you think the people at our high school would have said – if they knew she could do that?”

  I laughed. “I’m not sure I would have been that surprised,” I said. “She always was a slippery one.”

  “Do you miss them?”

  “Sometimes. I miss things not mattering so much. I can’t make mistakes anymore. Not like in the old days. If I screw up, people die. Or my heart gets broken forever…” I swallowed. “I miss being able to be a kid.”

  “I guess we’ll never be kids again, huh?” Logan looked away.

  “Guess so.”

  We found Alistair and Rose in the laboratory, hunched over potions. Their foreheads were close – they were almost touching. When they noticed our presence, Alistair jumped back, an embarrassed blush spreading over his face.

  “Oh, uh, Queen Breena!” Alistair stuttered. “Sir Logan! We were just…”

  Rose too had turned crimson, staring at Logan with such palpable longing that I felt uncomfortable. Alistair, however, seemed completely oblivious to the effect Logan had on his love.

  “We were just finishing the potion,” explained Rose matter-of-a-factly.

  “I’ve got something to tell you,” I said. “Or Logan does, actually. Something you should hear.”

  When Logan had finished his story and recounted the tale of the Red Wolf to us, Alistair and Rose sat stock-still, in shock.

  “So…you’re a Fey, now.” Rose looked fascinated. “With magic and everything?”

  “I am,” said Logan. “Or at least – I seem to be.” A few more green sparks appeared at his fingertips. “But it remains to be seen what that means for me – or for Feyland.”

  Rose smiled shyly. “We’ve got our work cut out for us then,” she said. “Trying to figure out what to do with all these Wolves.”

  Logan turned grave. “They are my people,” he said. “I want to protect them. To help them learn to use their gifts wisely.”

  “Well, nothing’s ever boring in Feyland, is it?” Alistair laughed.

  It was good to laugh again, to spend time with friends. It helped me forget about the pain that had incapacitated me for so long.

  But of course, I knew, I could never really forget. But for now, I supposed, this was close enough.

  “There is much to do,” I said. “So let’s get started.”

  Chapter 6

  Breena

  That night I slept fitfully. My sweat stained the bedclothes. I rolled around, tangling myself in the silk sheets. I screamed – my voice echoing off the ceiling. I screamed and screamed and screamed again, writhing, as the images seeped into my brain. It wasn't the normal dream. The normal dream – the normal pain – was one I had almost gotten used to by now. I would dream of Kian as he was on his quest in the distant lands where I could not reach him, dream of his beautiful face clouded by anger, the love I recognized in his eyes gone forever. I would dream that I rushed to his side, my face streaked with tears, begging him to forgive me, to take me back, to allow us to be again what we once were.

  “We will never be again what we once were,” he said, and turned away.

  The pain set me on fire. The agony made me convulse. I could have stood fury in his eyes; I could have stood hatred. But what I couldn't stand was the calm, collected, manner in which he spoke those words. A manner that showed no love, no regret. It was polite, even disinterested. And that was what filled me with such loneliness – the knowledge that Kian, whom I loved, whom I cared for, who meant everything to me, no longer cared enough even to hate me.

  “Please, Kian, give me another chance.” The words I repeated night after night, in exceeding pain, begging his dream-self to take me back. “I don't love Logan the way I love you – I never did. I cared for him as a friend, nothing more. I let my fear of commitment get in the way of what I needed, deep down – committing to you. One hundred percent. Totally, completely. We belong to one another, you and I, Kian. We belong to each other, body and soul. We can't just forget that, ignore that. We can't just pretend that isn't true. I miss you so much...”

  “I'm sorry, Breena.” His kindness was worse than his cruelty. “I'm so sorry I cannot give you what you need. But I'm afraid I just don't love you any longer. I loved you so hard, and so long, for such a long time. I gave you chances after chances, tried to ignore your betrayal, tried to ignore my own heartbreak. And one day, I suppose, I just got pushed too far. One day I realized that I was done with this pain, with this longing. That I was no longer interested in spending my time chasing after a woman who couldn't even give me the dignity of telling me she didn't love me the way I loved her. A woman who promised me eternity and couldn't even give me today.”

  Normally, that was the dream that woke me up, that made me sit up straight, screaming, covered in sweat. The first night after Logan's return, he'd rushed to my bedside in terror upon hearing that scream, convinced I was being murdered.

  “He doesn't love me,” I was sobbing, whispering, shaking. “He doesn't love me anymore – he told me so...”

  “You were just having a nightmare.” Logan put his strong, warm arms around me. “It wasn't real. Don't worry, Breena. It doesn't mean anything.”

  “Dreams means something!” I cried. “Kian and I are connected, telepathically. My thoughts are his thoughts. If he rejected me in my dreams, it's because he doesn't want me in reality! It's because he's sick of me – he doesn't care for me...”

  “I'm sure that's not true.” Logan massaged my shoulders, and I could see the look of pain in his eyes. “Remember, mortal psychology is pretty reliable. And if we weren't in Feyland, I could tell you for sure what that dream was about. You projecting your fears, your worries, into nightmares. You letting your insecurities and self-doubt run away with you. I can guarantee you – Kian will be coming back to you. He will return to you. He will come home, and marry you, and love you just as much as he ever did, if not more. If I weren't so sure of that, I know, I'd...” His voice trailed off as his expression grew dark and grim. “He's coming back, Breena. You two are destined to be. If I know anything at all, I know that. Believe me, if anyone knows that, it's me. I spent so long wishing it wasn't true, hoping it wasn't true. But now I know it is. Kian and you are decreed by the magic of Feyland. You cannot stay separated for long.” He kissed me on the forehead. “Now, Breena, it's time to calm down and dream of far better things. Sleep well.” He tucked the blanket under my chin. “Dream of the Mortal World for a change. And stop worrying so much.”

  After that my nightmares had subsided a bit. The pain of Kian's rejection – played out again night after night – became something I expected, something I could get used to. I was able, at least, to convince myself that the nig
htmare was nothing magic – that it was, as Logan said, a projection of my own fears, not Kian's thoughts.

  But this dream was different. This dream was far darker. I felt a tingling running up and down my spine; I felt my body begin to convulse as my mind was plunged into the madness of the dream. This time I wasn't myself, with Kian, begging him to take me back. No, I was Kian. I was looking through Kian's eyes; I was listening with Kian's ears. Our bodies had commingled; we were one. His blood ran through my veins. For a few moments, I simply luxuriated in this ecstasy. I had missed Kian so much; I had longed for him so badly. I had needed him; I had desired him. I had yearned for him. And now magic had bound us – our bodies, our souls. There was so much I wanted to say to him. There was so much love I wanted to confess.

  But before I could try to communicate with Kian, I became distracted by my surroundings. Where was I? This place didn't look like Feyland. I – or Kian – was somewhere else, somewhere where the mountains and plains were a uniform shade of gray. The sky was gray, and the mountains were gray, and the rivers were full of gray water. A cold, forbidding, cruel place.

  I looked down at my hands, and gasped at what I saw. The hands were not the porcelain-white, beautiful hands I recognized from so many fervent nights together. They were leathery, weathered with age. I walked to the mirror, and my mouth fell open with shock. I still looked like Kian – but this wasn't the Kian I remembered. This was an old man, with gray hair and gray beard, wrinkles on his forehead and lips thinned with age. Only his eyes, his beautiful, piercing blue eyes, gave me any indication that this was the man I loved.

  What had happened to Kian? He was immortal – surely he would never age! It was impossible! But this Kian had grown old – all too old.

  I must remember. Kian's voice echoed in my head. Until I die, I must remember her. I cannot forget – although I can no longer see her face...His eyes clouded over with pain. I can no longer remember her name. But I know she was important to me. I cannot remember why or where – I cannot remember anything at all – but I know that I cannot forget her. I know I must have loved her. In the days before I came to this place. In the days before...

  Who was I before? I don't know. I will never know. I will never escape. All I know is that I cannot forget...

  The voice in my head grew panicked. What can I not forget? What was it? Who was it that I told myself I'd remember? No! No!

  Kian began to scream, to shout, to pound on the mirror. I felt his pain, his fury, his fear. Who am I? Who is she? Who am I supposed to remember?

  I woke with a start and a scream. No, this dream felt different from the others. It felt real, somehow – real in a way even my nightmares about Kian's rejection did not.

  The door flung open as Logan ran in.

  “Another nightmare?” He put a glass of water down on my bedside table.

  “Yes,” I said, shivering.

  “The same one?”

  I shook my head. “No,” I said. “A different one. Really different.” I looked up. “Logan, I think Kian's in danger.”

  “Breena, my darling, it was just a dream...”

  “Not this one,” I said, swallowing the lump in my throat. “This felt different. Like telepathy, or a premonition, or something – whatever it was, it was magic-related. This wasn't just a dream. Kian was...being held somewhere, trapped, for years and years. Only he wasn't immortal. He was aging, and he was forgetting. Not just about me, but about himself. He couldn't remember who he was, or what was happening to him. And he was scared, Logan, so scared!”

  “Hush, Breena,” Logan held me close. “It was just a dream.”

  I shook my head. “I don't think so,” I said. “In fact, I'm sure of it. Wherever Kian is, I need to find him.”

  “Breena, are you so sure that's a good idea?” Logan looked worried. “Kian said he'd come back when he made a decision – that he needed time alone to think. Are you so sure that he wants to be found?”

  I nodded. “He needs me, Logan. He's in danger. I've got this terrible feeling that, wherever he is, he's in trouble, and he needs my help. Whatever is happening between us, Logan, it's my job to keep him safe. As his fiancé, as his friend, as the Queen of Summer. It's my duty to protect him. And I'd never forgive myself if...if....” My eyes welled up with tears. “If my dream was true.”

  Logan's face took on a dark, grim expression as he nodded. “I understand,” he said slowly. “And I do trust you. If you say this dream was a premonition, then I'll do whatever it takes to help you find Kian, and keep him safe.” He pressed my hand to his lips. “Because it's the only way to keep you safe. We'll find him, my darling, my Breena.” He gathered me into his arms. “I promise you.”

  Chapter 7

  Kian

  I had walked for many miles beyond the stone gates. The suns of Feyland had risen and set time and again – I could no longer see them in the distance, but only became wary of minor changes in the gray, still light of the place that I supposed signified the difference between night and day. At this rate, I guessed, I had spent four days in the ancient lands beyond the borders of Feyland. Four days that were not days, but rather endless expanses of cold, gray light. I felt more tired than I usually felt on these journeys – my muscles seemed to ache, and my body longed for sleep. Normally I could go days without food or sleep – all fairies prided themselves on their abilities to be hardy when in battle, or on a quest such as mine – but for some reason my body was reacting with sudden sluggishness. Perhaps it was the distance from the Winter Palace, or from the seat of my power.

  Or the distance from her, my subconscious told me. I missed her so much – now more than ever. I felt that this ugly, white, pale place would not be quite so cruel if I had her with me. My body still cried out for her; my arms felt empty without her in them. My eyes were thirsty – a thirst that could only be quenched by the sight of her face. My chest needed the small of her back pressed against it. I missed the silky feel of her hair, the smell of pomegranates that perfumed them.

  No, Kian, I told myself. You must overcome this. You must be stronger than this. You must forget her. Soon, after all, you will be cured of this love, this disease. Soon you will be free.

  But not soon enough, it seemed. As I trudged along the snowy banks of the path, going deeper and deeper into the mountains to search for the White Witch whom I hoped would be an answer to my problems, I felt my soul cleave in two. Part of me wanted to go back before it was too late, rush back through the stone gates and into Feyland, run into Breena's intoxicating arms and lose myself in her kiss, apologize for my actions and beg her to take me back. Did it matter that she wanted Logan, too? Wasn't it enough that she love me, that she want me, that she had chosen me over him? Wasn't that all I wanted, deep down? Wasn't her love – her choice of me for a husband - enough to make me feel like the luckiest fairy in this world or any other?

  But I thought of Logan, and felt anger rise hotly to my cheeks. Even, now, I knew, the Wolf was beside her. I could sense it; I had seen it in the mirror. No sooner was the bed cold, was the engagement canceled, than the Wolf had swooped in to take my place. And Breena, it seems, had let him. So much for mourning me. Evidently Breena had been all too relieved by my absence, for it allowed her to follow up on the passion she had been clandestinely nursing all her love. Without me in the way to interfere, Breena and Logan could be together at last. The true star-crossed lovers of Feyland.

  And I was nothing but an intrusion, an interference, a barrier to their happiness. Don't you see, Kian, the slippery, snake-like voice within me mocked my pain. Don't you see that she doesn't love you? It's not merely that she's indecisive, not merely that she's scared. She preferred him to you. She has made her choice. You have lost, Fairy King. You have lost and the Wolf has won. Accept your defeat graciously and move on without her. Do not fear that she misses you, or that she still wants you; do not fear that perhaps she is even now at this moment weeping for you to come home. No, she is in the arms of the Wolf, perhap
s unclad, perhaps sharing with him that act which you once thought was reserved for the two of you alone, that thing which you thought you would never do with another.

  She doesn't miss you. So why miss her? Why not keep on along the path, without stopping, until you find the White Witch, who will save you from this pain? You are not abandoning Breena, Fairy King. Rather, you are setting her free. You are releasing her to her true love. And if the White Witch, and all her fairy magic, can make this transition easier, can smooth the edges of this heartbreak, then so be it. You deserve at least that balm: not to suffer once you've lost the woman who no longer loves you. Perhaps then you will finally desire the beautiful woman in the village who set you on this path and enveloped you in the ferocious force of longing that you saw in her stare. Perhaps you will be able to give yourself over to the nothingness, to the oblivion, of pleasure without love, slake your thirsts, satisfy your hunger, want another. Feel something other than this agony. Feel something – anything...

  “Are you quite done?” A soft, feminine voice interrupted my reverie.

  “What the...” I whirled around in shock. There, standing before me, was one of the loveliest creatures I had ever seen. With pale ash-white hair and bright blue eyes that were, like her hair, uncommonly white, with shining skin and a long satin dress, this woman radiated power and passion. She could have been young; she could have been ancient. She was ageless – ageless in a way I found unsettling and, strangely, alluring.