14. Carnival

Chapter 14

Carnival

LORI

T he swish , swish , swish of the sleigh's runners lull me into a soft, warm slumber. We've been divided into four groups of five, so I huddle under a heavy blanket of fur with the four remaining Spring brides. The lavish winter coats we've been given have a thick hood that acts as a pillow. They're more comfy than the cloaks from before, the fabric snug and stretchy.

"I can't believe Aster died," Rose says with a sniffle.

Her friend, a quiet bride called Flora, clasps her hand.

"We were warned about the dangers of winter." Daisy shakes her head. "She shouldn't have gone out into that storm."

Poppy scoffs, her eyes narrowing at her comrade. "So she brought it on herself? Is that it?"

"Yes. Contestants die every year, and we might be next."

I zone out the girl's argument and catch up on the sleep I missed because of the vivid dream-vision—and the dark figure lurking in the maze. Seth's revelation still buzzes in my ears, and I can't wait for us to be alone to untangle that knot of secrets.

The sunset casts pink, orange, and purple hues over the white plains by the time Snowhaven, the capital of the province of the same name, appears on the horizon. The fortified city towers in the distance, protected from the winds of the plains by a tall, circular stone wall.

The white horse pulling our sleigh slows down, and the little bells around his harness jingle at the change of pace, the thumps of his hooves on the snow spaced out and irregular. I stifle a yawn and shake out the pins and needles in my muscles.

"Look. The doors are opening," Rose whispers.

The sleighs stop in front of the city as we wait for the thick wooden doors to crack open. The sponsors are sharing a sleigh with Paul, but Elio is nowhere to be found. Uneven winds blast against the city walls, while networks of ropes and pulleys prevent the stone doors from opening too quickly or catching in the draft.

"What are those ramparts for?" Daisy asks. "Winter peeps can't be that motivated to keep freezing winds out."

Poppy smacks her lips together. "Winter is full of monsters. Imagine what lies out there, in the cold. You know how Faerie is. The more beautiful something looks on the outside, the deadlier it actually is."

"I thought deadly beauty was a Spring thing," Rose says.

"Poppy's right. I'd take a stroll in the Spring jungle any day before I took a peek at what lies beneath all this frost," I add, deep in thought.

The horses haul the sleighs forward and form a straight line to squeeze through the opening. The doors of the fortress close behind our convoy, and we glide toward the center of the city. I'd imagined Snowhaven to be busy and crowded, but it's a quaint village—straight from a travel brochure.

Houses nestle together, separated by streets that follow the curve of the exterior wall. Steep, snow-tipped roofs allow for most of the ice to tumble down to the ground, and white smoke clouds over an army of tall stone chimneys, their atypical length meant to protect them from being clogged in a bad snowstorm. The horses stop at the end of the snow path that leads to the center of town.

The smells of firewood, caramel popcorn, and cotton candy embalm the air, and my mouth waters. A ferris wheel gleams in the background, smack in the middle of town square. The whole block has been turned into a typical Winter carnival with booths and games peppered around the main attraction.

The hooded winter coats keep us warm as we leave the safety and comfort of the sleigh, the enchanted clothes meant to protect our bodies, fingers, and cheeks from the bite of winter. I bend down to fashion a small snowball in my hands and marvel at the sensation of the snow crunching between my fingers. I roll my wrists and check my fingertips, but sure enough, my blood vessels are not affected by the cold, like a special oil separates me from the chill.

The glittering lights hanging above the colorful carnival tents and booths shed beautiful patterns over the well-traveled snow covering the ground.

Hundreds of townspeople peruse the displays and coffee shops around the edge of the carnival—perhaps hoping to catch a peek of the brides they saw on television. Hollers and laughter resonate through the air, but none of them breaches the confines of the roped-off area.

I'm a sucker for a good carnival, and my heart hammers. I didn't think winter could hold so much beauty. Snow back home meant numb fingers, slippery roads, and brown, barren trees.

But, as Poppy had pointed out, Fae beauty can't be trusted. I've hunted many types of beasts, most of them elegant and fantastical, yet the beautiful monster that reigns over these lands is not hunted, but revered.

"Lori! Come on!" Poppy waves me over to her, and I catch up with the group.

Paul is ready with his cameras and microphones, filming our arrival. "Dear brides, welcome to Snowhaven. Now, take a good look at the girls you traveled here with."

I keep my eyes firmly planted on him, his gleeful smile crawling under my skin.

"Tonight, the king and lovely citizens of Snowhaven will see first-hand how well you can handle a little mischief. Each of you will participate in the activities, and we'll end with a special treat."

Sarafina joins her fellow host at the front, her bright smile not quite reaching her eyes. "What do we have in store for them, Paul?"

"While our guests start streaming in, the brides will get in position for the first challenge. Each group of five must now decide who to send to the dunk tank," Paul says on a chortle, apparently loving the idea of seeing us drenched to the bone. He points at the area behind the ferris wheel where a plank hovers above a rectangular tub of water. "After the plunge, just put your coats back on. They will dry you up and keep you warm."

The other spring girls all skirt away from me, and I grind my teeth together. "Fine."

Me and the unlucky contestants who lost their groups' popularity contest all hustle toward the water tank. Its walls are made of ice, and an endless current stirs the water to keep it from freezing.

A carnival attendant dressed in a blue and silver uniform and a matching bean hat is waiting for us next to the huge red button, and I blaze forward to go first, beating a Red bride to the front of the line by mere seconds.

I might as well get the humiliation over with.

The Fae attendant is tall, but his long, skinny limbs are stuck in the awkwardness of puberty as he motions for me to hang my warm coat on the rack. His round cheeks flush as I do so, his big eyes brimming with curiosity.

I fidget on the wooden stage, not used to being so shamelessly ogled by a stranger. "Hi?"

"Wow. You're even more beautiful in person," he whispers. "The mayor is campaigning hard for a Winter bride to win, but I'm rooting for you, Lori."

He gives me the go ahead to walk to the plank, but I pause. "You're rooting for me to marry the king?" I ask to make sure, stunned by the implications.

"Yes. You stood up to the king and asked real questions. We need a strong queen, one who can beat the odds," he says quickly, blushing a deeper shade of red before he turns to help the next bride in line.

I clench my jaw to keep my teeth from clanking and sit at the end of the plank. A crowd has formed in front of me, most of the villagers eager to get a first-row look at my memorable plunge. My legs dangle from the edge as I peek at the water. Frost creeps along the rim of the tank, and I swallow hard.

I'm already freezing, so I can't imagine how it'll feel down there.

The Red behind me keeps her arms crossed tightly over her chest. She removed her coat, too, but a blood-red silk scarf is still tied over her brows. A sharp edge shines on top of her silver ring, the odd piece of jewelry made to cut through skin. That combined with the Fae drawings branding her face, she looks quite intimidating. Her hand twitches at her side a few times like she wishes she had a blade to run me through.

A Winter bride chats happily with the attendant in the line behind her. Winter Fae don't feel the cold as we do, so I guess the exercise is meant to get a good giggle out of the foreigners' distaste for freezing water.

I crane my neck around to meet the gaze of the Summer bride at the back of the lot. She looks like she's about to faint, and I arch a brow that says, "Sucks to be us, right?"

She discreetly motions for me to turn back around. On the other side of the fence preventing onlookers from crowding the shooting area of the dunk tank, a different line has formed for the snowballs meant to strike me down.

Daisy beams from the front of the line, waving cheekily at me. My best frenemy showcases the snowball with a devilish grin. Her pink nails dig into the surface as she squeezes it, ready to take her best shot, but the king slices through the crowd to stop her and interrupts her movement at the last possible second.

What the?—

Elio's arrival sparks a wave of audible gossip in the crowd, the shortest courtiers stretching to their tiptoes. Daisy and Elio are too far away for me to hear their conversation, but I'm good at lip reading.

He leans toward her with a smile and opens his palm. "Can I?"

Daisy offers him a small, delighted bow before passing him the snowball. "Of course."

They both turn in my direction with their eyes narrowed. I'm not sure which one is looking forward to my fall the most, but the king's ball is swooped away by the wind. It careens off to the side and away from the bullseye. A smirk glazes my lips, and his failure emboldens me.

I cup my hands in front of my mouth to amplify my voice. "What was that? You throw like a little girl."

Elio laughs and shouts loud enough for me to hear, "Seth. I don't know where you are, but you fuck with my ball one more time, and I'll have them throw you out of my city." An evil glint burns deep in his blue eyes as he summons a new snowball to his palm.

I search for Seth in the crowd but find a familiar midnight-blue cape instead. The woman I saw with Elio in the garden last night is here, blending in with the crowd. A big hood still masks her features, and I stretch my neck to see better.

Next thing I know, my breath is knocked out of me by the coldest water I've ever felt. By Morpheus and his darkest impulses! People who choose to do this for fun at the spa are absolute lunatics . My skin stings all over, and my pulse swirls. The pain takes me right back to the Shadow Court and the venomous spider bite that almost killed me.

Water seeps inside my ears and mouth like spider silk, and my eyes snap open. The blurry white and blue scenery becomes muddier as I spring up from the bottom of the tank and shoot upwards, but instead of breaking the surface, I slam my head. Hard.

"Careful," the ice slurs. "He's coming."

A painful boom in my skull dizzies me, but I extend my arms to the sky and bump solid ice. Despite the small size of the pool, I can't find the surface.

I slap the thick frozen wall above my head to no end, quite literally entombed. My lungs burn, and the hurtful boom in my chest tells me I need air, and soon.

My long dark hair snakes at the edge of my vision, and when I look up, I see a younger version of the Winter King gazing down at me through the ice. A soft smile glazes his lips as the lack of oxygen eddies my vision.

There is no air in this watery grave. Nowhere left to run. Only ice, and the promise of the cold, sweet embrace of death.

I'm drowning.