21. Flickering Amber

Chapter 21

Flickering Amber

ELIO

U p on the cliffs, the sacred city of the reapers towers above us.

"The Ice City was carved right out of the ridge of the extinct Birthstone's caldera, the volcano that shaped the entire Fae continent. We can glimpse at its beauty from down here," I explain.

I've never allowed the other monarchs so close to the root of my power. The safety and peace of my reapers is more important than PR opportunities, but I need to wow them today. Rumors reached my ears during brunch that my attempts to conceal the unruly weather that plagues my lands haven't gone unnoticed.

I have to send my brethren home with a sense of awe if I am to erase the impression that my control over the glacier that runs underneath the snow is—for lack of a better word—melting.

"It's magnificent," Thera says. The Summer Queen's eyes water. In all my years as Winter King, I've never seen her show emotion, and the sight throws me for a loop.

The leaders and citizens of the other realms—and especially the light Fae—hate me because of what I stand for. Even immortals fear death. Sicknesses and old age can't claim them, but a rowan spear to the heart pretty much cancels any of them in the blink of an eye.

But not me, of course. For me, death will not come so easy.

The political game of "look how pretty my reaper city looks from afar" is getting old quick, and I can barely hide the jitters. The large meal I had back in Snowhaven sits heavy in my stomach. It's been years since I worked up such a genuine appetite, but I was simply famished.

Thera inches closer, the wrinkles at the corner of her eyes deepening. The Summer Queen's auburn hair is pulled tight away from her face and tucked in a bun behind her head. Round, rosy cheeks contribute to hide her true age, but she's paler than usual. Her ruby and amber crown rumbles with constant, barely-contained flames, but the fire burning inside the Summer crown is not as steady or powerful as it once was. "Would you give me a frost apple if I vowed that no one else would ever find out?" she whispers with an affable smile.

Her body language remains a picture of ease for the others' benefit, despite the unusual—and frankly troubling—request.

My Hawthorn only produces three to four apples each year, which makes them particularly rare, and while the use of those apples falls into my per-view, the official channels for other monarchs to procure one can be incredibly complicated and tedious, the wait list already spanning across decades.

They are only supposed to be requested by a reigning royal to grant immortality to their half-Fae, mortal children—or the rare mortal spouse. Some try to skirt the rules for a particularly beloved lover, but that's clearly not the case here. I consider Thera in a new light. The sickly tint of her skin, along with the words she used, hint at her secret.

A frost apple loses its properties when cooked or enchanted to look like anything else, so if she's promising that no one else would find out, it means she needs it for herself.

I give her a discreet incline of the head. Thera's been queen for centuries, and I won't insult her by prying into her health or asking why she doesn't want anyone to know she's sick.

"Thank you, Elio. I won't forget this." The emotion in her voice contrasts with her breezy, casual behavior as she moves to leave.

"Brr. I'm freezing," Freya whines.

My royal peers all thank me for my hospitality before stepping out through the travel mirror I had installed for this specific trip, but Damian hangs back.

I raise a brow at the Shadow King. I haven't seen him without his clawed black and white mask in decades. "You look better, my friend."

"I am. You know you can count on my support, right?"

I observe him for a moment and ponder the possibility of mentioning Lori's heritage. He could help me get rid of her by offering her a place in his court, where she belongs. But I can't bring myself to snitch on her. Shadow seeds often wash out during training.

Asking her to leave Wintermere is one thing. Alerting Damian to her existence so that he can possibly strip her of her magic…is another.

"Your support?" I say instead.

He arches his scarred brow. "Elio, you can trust me. I can still trust you, right?"

Just asking the question makes it clear that he doesn't. Damian is about the only ruler I trust not to move against me, but he's always speaking in riddles. Once, we were much closer, but he locked himself in a prison of secrets long before I became king.

"Of course. I'm glad to see you in good shape again," I say in lieu of goodbye, burying my hands in my jacket's pockets.

I'm not in the mood for games. My lieutenant Kiro is waiting for me to inspect the sleet storm that blocks the entrance to the Frost Peaks mines. I walk down the snowy hill to Sara who's overseeing the next challenge.

The unconscious brides are being carefully transported to the starting point of the mountain trek.

My friend tucks her short blond hair behind her ears at my approach, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. "Everything good with your guests?"

"Yes." I search the sleighs for one bride in particular, almost convinced I won't find her. "How many of them dropped out?"

"They all drank the potion," Sara squeaks.

My pulse flutters. "All?"

Her blue eyes dart to the ground between us. "Yes. Even Lori."

My fists curl. She promised she'd leave… Lori might have been a little desperate when she vowed to obey, but she still promised not to go through with the rest of the pageant. And I wasn't kidding when I told her Winter would make her life hell for ignoring my command.

Strange and powerful forces rule over the mountains. She could die out there…

I shake out the urge to scream and ball my fists at my sides. Lori broke her promise to me. She made her choice.

"Make sure she doesn't make it to the Ice City in time to win," I breathe.

Sara glances up from her clipboard. "But?—"

"I don't want to hear it. Make sure she goes home this time. Before something worse happens."

Sara grumbles an almost unintelligible and completely insolent, "at your command, my liege" before crossing her arms over her chest. "Did you see how Freya stared at her? She clearly had never seen her before today, but she didn't ask to speak with her, either."

"If she'd asked, she would have had to admit publicly that she didn't know why a carbon-copy of her niece was walking around Faerie. She's probably waiting for Lori to be eliminated before she sends her cupids to drag her and Seth to the Secret Springs by the ears…" I shake my head, trying to quell the unpleasant twinge in my stomach at the thought of letting Freya interrogate Lori. It beats dying in the mountains, but not by much.

"Kiro's waiting. I have to go." I toss a tired glance at Seth and the other sponsors, silently pleading with Sara to keep an eye on them, too.

She nods and motions for me to go on with my day. "Don't worry. I won't let Seth out of my sight."

"At ease, servant," I say, retaliating for her earlier sarcasm with a wink. Her annoyed eye-roll coaxes a smile from me. "Oh, I almost forgot. Please arrange for Thera to get a fruit basket. Quietly."

Sara raises a pointed brow, fully aware of what I actually meant. "Alright."

I plaster my platinum mask over my face and walk through the mirror.

The Ice City is easily accessible through the sceawere to those who know the special runes marking its location and carry enough frost in their veins. Kiro is already waiting for me in the battlement's war room at the foot of the fortress, and I shrug off the brunch's flashy and overly chic apparel in favor of a lightweight and supple windbreaker. "Are you ready?" I ask.

"Yes, my king. I brought five newly anointed but capable soldiers along to back us up. They're all looking forward to catching a glimpse of Mistress, if we're lucky," he says.

A wide smile pierces my scowl. "She's been sleeping since summer. She's bound to wake up soon." Just the thought of seeing Mistress sends a jolt of excitement up my spine.

My boots crunch in the heavy snow as I lead the small squadron out of the Ice City battlements and up toward the coldest, wildest, and most beautiful mountains in the realm. The sceawere cannot reach such primeval places, so we breed wolves to pull us up on sleighs.

The hours-long ride up to the mines is the perfect outlet for all my pent-up frustrations, and the weather is perfect for it. Out west, the sun burns on the horizon, the short day almost over.

Kiro sticks close to my side as we reach the top of the extinct volcano's rim, the lights of the Ice City shining at our backs.

In spite of myself, I wonder how Sara will carry out my orders. The baring, incensed gaze Lori threw my way over the brunch table still heats my chest, and I pick up the pace.

The brides' challenge starts close to the volcano's caldera, so I could cross paths with her on my way back… I shake my head at the intrusive thought, trying to push all notion of Lori or the Yule pageant out of my mind.

The storm that curses the Frost Peaks mines with the most inclement weather in centuries needs to be dealt with. My expedition has nothing to do with Lori, I remind myself.

I'll never see her again, so I better concentrate on the task ahead, and the prospect of seeing Mistress again.