Page 32

Chapter

Twenty-Nine

F or half a tempo, I consider following Mr. Yak over the side of the sleigh, but Nash must sense my intentions, because his arms stiffen around my waist.

“No escaping,” he says with a nip on my earlobe.

“You aren’t worried that we’ve been kidnapped by a winter queen who serves magical food?” I ask.

“I’m always worried when it comes to you. But I have faith in whatever journey we are on, and if this is part of the quest, I will be at your side every step of the way.” My heart swells, the beating organ flushing out the rising fear and replacing it with the Stirling’s love and acceptance.

“Now that’s a castle,” Gwyneth breathes as she hangs her head over the edge of the fast moving sleigh.

Snow swirls around the glittering ice palace, like it’s trapped inside an invisible sphere.

I suck in a breath as something presses against my skin, and then we are through the barrier and safe from the snow.

“That’s unusual,” Theo says.

The sleigh screeches to a stop at the foot of a steep set of sleek steps. The arched doors are wide open and flanked by ice warriors, their soulless eyes glinting as they study us.

“Creepy,” Hart notes. We hum our agreement.

“Come,” the queen demands as she gracefully steps off the sleigh and strides up the stairs. She doesn’t look back to check if we are following her. Where else would we go?

I scramble to my feet as Malachi is the first to exit.

He offers me his hand and guides me off the sleigh, dropping a quick kiss on my lips.

The tingles are brief but welcome. “We’ve got this.

You are the woman who faces down dragons and bends the rules to her will.

You upturn tradition and defy the odds every damn time. This will be no different.”

A smile graces my lips as the others clamber out behind us. Ice warriors form from the ground before they march us into the castle.

While it’s pretty, all gleaming lines and sparkling brilliance, it’s also sparse, like the bare minimum of character and comfort. The only decoration is in the form of life-sized figures carved from ice. They are meticulously detailed and chilling. Give me a dragon’s cave any diurnal over this.

The grand hallway echoes with our footsteps as our distorted reflections follow us into an enormous dining room.

A massive chandelier hangs from the arched ceiling, where stalactites form a stunning display.

No portraits or art decorate the walls, and a chilly atmosphere not caused by the climate hangs over everything like a cloud.

A massive banquet covers a long table, and the guards herd us toward the chairs with determination. Nash protects my back from being touched by them, but I notice the grimace on Malachi’s face when one bumps into him.

The queen waves her hand, and the guards shatter into a million pieces, their shards bouncing off the walls before being absorbed by the floor. Effective cleaning tool, if not a little brutal.

The genie pops into existence over the table, wrestling Sir Sweeps-A-Lot. “I’m returning your infernal broom. He doesn’t respect my rules. Even the capons know to not follow me into the bathroom.” He blinks as he takes in the tense scene.

“What is that?” the queen demands.

“‘That’ is a he,” Genie declares. “And what are you?”

“The queen,” she snaps.

The genie rolls his eyes and studies me. “You seem tense. Do you need to make a little wish?”

“I do not,” I answer.

“Well, holler if you change your mind. I have some cleaning to do since he decided to sweep my rug. A rug that has touch issues and is now hiding under my bed, just when I’d gotten him not to freak out every time someone new came around.” He poofs out.

“Wish?” the queen asks with a glance my way. Sir Sweeps-A-Lot sulks behind my chair.

“He’s a genie,” I explain. “They grant wishes.”

“But only to their owner,” Charming grumbles. “Trust me, I tried.”

He did? What did he wish for? He side-eyes Gwyneth. Aw, Prince Poopfloof is really in love.

“Interesting. And how does one become an owner of a genie?”

“Nobody owns anyone. He’s fulfilling a service,” I correct.

“Are there limitations?” she wonders.

Gwyneth shakes her head at me in warning. I can’t decipher normal conversation, and now she’s trying to have a telepathic one?

“I’m not sure,” I decide. “You’ll have to ask him.”

Gwyneth pinches the bridge of her nose. Clearly, I didn’t read her mind correctly.

“Eat. You must be starving,” the queen instructs.

My hand starts toward a plate of steaming, weird little buns. They smell delicious. Meat and vegetables, if I had to guess.

Nash snatches it in his and kisses my knuckles. “We’ve already eaten. Thank you for your generosity, though.”

Oh shit—the warning not to eat anything.

The queen gracefully lifts a goblet, swirling a dark liquid. “Drink. We have much to discuss.”

I eyeball the deep red liquid. That better be wine.

Nobody makes a move to take a drink. Have we decided it’s blood? Or does the instruction not to eat anything mean drinks too? Did Mr. Yak specify? I can’t remember.

“We have nothing to discuss with you,” Theo declares. “We are simply passing through.”

The queen’s eyes flash with power. “Nobody passes through Frostmere without my permission.”

“Apologies,” Charming says. “We meant no disrespect.”

“Accepted. Now enjoy my hospitality.”

“I’m stuffed,” I declare. I’m not.

Hart’s eyes snap to mine, and his lips twitch. Oh, he’s thinking naughty naughty things. I lift my eyebrow in return.

“We can just be on our way and out of your hair,” Theo says as he hooks a thumb over his shoulder.

She shakes her head. “There’s an ancient legend.”

“Isn’t there always,” Gwyneth replies with a groan.

The queen ignores her. “A realm bound by fate. A kingdom waiting for its true ruler.”

As far as legends go, this one isn’t too bad. Nobody seems to be dying, so it’s better than the one I’m tangled up in.

“A final sacrifice needed—one willing soul who, upon their death, will unlock the magic that will give her absolute dominion over the realm.” She stares at me. “I think we all know whose soul that is.”

Silence blankets the room. I take it back, immediately and wholeheartedly. Everywhere I land, I seem doomed. For once it would be nice for someone to say hey, you wandered into this destiny, and now you get free sausage for life. Nobody thought to write that, but they should have.

“I can see this isn’t going to end well,” Nash grumbles.

“Fight our way out?” Hart checks.

“Agreed.”

With what? These are ice warriors who shatter at will and reform.

Wait, they are ice warriors... I glance at Theo, who blinks back at me. This mind read I get loud and clear. We have a fire-breathing dragon as our secret weapon, which is why everyone seems less bothered than I. Why did it take me this long to figure it out?

“If you won’t drink, you should dance,” the queen says.

Dance? Nobody said anything about dancing. What harm can come of it if it placates a crazy monarch into letting us go without consequence? A quick waltz and we can be free.

Soft, ethereal music swirls around us. Nash stiffens at my side, and a low growl rumbles in his chest. Maybe he hates dancing?

Well, he’ll have to man up. The music grows louder, and my fingers tap in rhythm against the table.

The air becomes heavy, something sickly and sweet wrapping around us like warm honey.

“Debbie,” Eron shouts from Hart’s pocket. “I do not like this. Show me what is happening.”

Where has my mirror man been?

Hart withdraws the small mirror and shows him the room. Eron gasps. “You.”

The queen’s lips quirk. “Too late, my king. The dance has already begun.”

My king? They know each other?

“Get out, all of you now,” Eron hollers. But his voice is muffled, drifting away like the beat is carrying him out of the room.

My foot taps, and my fingers snap, unbidden, and out of my control. Oh, no. Malachi wriggles his shoulders, and Hart tilts his head to the side.

Gwyneth stands and spins in a circle. Charming catches her around her waist and dips her back. Their wide eyes blink at each other. Charming opens his mouth and belts out, “I don’t want to be here, I don’t want to die.”

Gwyneth follows with, “But we are stuck inside this cursed lullaby!”

Words bubble in my throat, and I clutch my chest, trying to force them to stay hidden. “What the Blazes is happening? Why can’t I stop—” I jerk to my feet and push back my chair to wiggle my hips. “The Snow Queen’s got us dancing, and now I have to hop.”

Theo leaps to my side, catches my hand, and spins me in a circle with a look of utter disbelief on his face as he sings, “We should be fighting. We should be armed.”

Nash slams his hands onto the table, making the plates jump. “Instead, we’re harmonizing, and I’m quite alarmed.”

Sir Sweeps-A-Lot does a loop around the room as Malachi shimmies over to where one of the few ice warriors remain.

His face is like a thundercloud, and I brace for the fight he’s asking for.

Then he raises his hands in the air and makes cute waves, while his feet perform some kind of tapping on the floor, like they are an instrument.

Gwyneth does a high kick just as Charming launches into a dramatic solo. “I don’t know if we’ll make it, but I will not flee. I will protect you, Gwyneth. It’s my destiny.”

Gwyneth kicks him in the shin, and I’m not sure if it’s on purpose. “This isn’t the time for your dumb romantic plea!”

The Snow Queen watches this entire spectacle, sipping her wine with an amused smirk. “Ah, I love a good performance.”

We all line up and, to my horror, begin synchronized dancing. The genie reappears and scans us. “I was gone for three tempos. How did this happen?” He points at the queen. “You. Stop this nonsense.”

Please, for the love of the Idols, stop this nonsense.

She lifts a shoulder. “They can stop when they’ve finished.”

The genie growls and snaps his fingers. The music halts immediately, and I collapse to my knees, panting. “Never. Again.”

Theo shakes his head. “I’m going to have nightmares about this.”

Malachi chuckles. “I might have enjoyed it if we weren’t all about to die.”

“Speak for yourself,” Gwyneth snaps.

The queen claps. “Wonderful,” she purrs. “I shall have my musicians record that. Quite catchy.”

The temperature in the room plummets as we climb to our feet. The torches flicker out, bathing the room in shadow as the Snow Queen stands, her gown billowing around her like an icy storm.

“This was fun,” she murmurs. “But playtime is over.”

She stomps her foot on the ground in a sharp motion, and shards snake up my legs, locking me in place. The rest of our gang is in a similar predicament. The queen saunters over to me, and her fingers trail down my cheek.

“You were always meant for this,” the queen whispers. “And soon, you’ll see that for yourself.”

The castle groans, like it’s shifting beneath our feet. “What is that?” Charming asks.

The queen’s eyes flash with rage. “My husband has finally grown a pair of balls,” she snarls. “Eron, I hope you know what you are doing.”

My heart stops for a split tempo. Eron? My Eron?

The room plunges into total darkness, and a laugh rings out. “I’ve always known, Sara, that it is you who is clueless. That shall be your downfall.”

What have we found ourselves in the middle of? A marital spat of epic proportions?

Something sharp presses against my throat, and my hair tickles my ear. “Stay still, Daphne. I’d hate to kill you prematurely and have to take your sister instead.”

“Let her go,” Eron snarls from the shadows.

“Show yourself, husband, and I might consider it.” The darkness envelops us, concealing any glimmer of hope. The flickering torches ignite again, revealing my magic mirror man, now fully formed, staring hollowly back at us with no reflection.

“I’m sorry, Daphne,” he breathes. “But some destinies are inescapable.”

“You’re finally joining me, after all these years,” the queen murmurs, her voice a seductive caress.

“I promised that if you found the sacrifice to strengthen our reign, I would reclaim you.” My heart shatters. He betrayed us? No, I refuse to accept that. My sweet, broken mirror man couldn’t do this. Plus, he’s in love with Erik.

“This has been a long time coming,” he declares, a shadow flitting through his gaze. I scrutinize him, realization dawning. “Let’s end this tonight. The full moon shines, and magic hangs in the air. It’s time to mold Frostmere into what it was always meant to be.”

The queen releases the knife from my throat, her gaze finding Eron’s.

They share a kiss, one she presumably views as passion.

He, however, seems utterly disgusted. Trust me, his eyes plead.

I take a deep breath and affirm with a single nod.

Trust is a fragile thing, earned through tenderness and loyalty.

Nash’s hand finds mine, his grip reassuring.

He sees through the deception, too. I must cling to faith.

But as hope flickers, a chilling laughter breaks the silence.

“Naughty, naughty Daphne. You can’t control destiny.

” Malice. No one else reacts. Can they not hear her?

Everyone is still studying the queen and Eron.

“They can’t hear me,” she confirms. “There’s only one thing for certain in this life, Daphne Stone.

You cannot trust anyone. They will always let you down.

Cut ties now, and your heart might survive.

Wait for them to break it, and you will be left a shattered mess. ”

My hand tightens in Nash’s. “That’s my risk to take,” I silently volley.

“He hasn’t even told you what he is. How is that trust?”

“He will in his own time. I trust them.”

“Then you have already signed your own death warrant. See you on the other side.” Then she’s gone, leaving me shaken in a room full of secrets.