The Ice Queen (Dark Queens Book 3) (4 page)

“You think me a fool. To have made that deal with the Under Goblin, but it was the only way to ensure he never bothered us again.”

Baatha gave a soft snuffling noise and she sighed, immediately a waft of fat snowflakes glided lazily about them.

Once Baatha had had a sister, Baath, Luminesa could still remember the deep red of the stained snow beneath the falcon’s beautiful white feathers from an arrow that’d been driven through her heart.

An arrow fluttering with the Under Goblins colors of green and gold.

She wished she understood why it was he hated her so. Yes, they’d been friends once. And once she’d thought the world of him, until the day she’d spied him deceiving a lost traveller to follow him down a trail that led to the fallen bridge, and ultimately to the poor man’s demise.

The Goblin’s cruelty had cut her to the quick.

After that night she’d told him they could never again be friends. He’d begged her to understand that it was simply in his nature to be capricious, but that he’d never be so with her. She’d not trusted him, and had told him so. That was the first night the fires of hate had burned through his inky eyes whenever he’d looked upon her. And it’d never gone away since.

Baatha nuzzled his soft head against the side of her neck, giving her his strength, knowing where her dark thoughts had led.

Nodding, she gently rubbed the center of his head and he trembled.

Though it was the dead of night, the ice she created had a luminescent quality about it so that even in darkness it glowed a gentle blue.

Her palace was enormous, taking up an entire section of spiraled cliff top upon the Glaciem mountain range of Kingdom’s northern polar caps. She’d been a vagabond when she’d stumbled upon this desolate place what felt like a lifetime ago. Barefoot and without a penny to her name, all she’d had with her was the fury of her heart to help see her through those dark days.

Her desire to isolate herself from the human species had been her only wish. It wasn’t that she hated all of them, she knew from her time among them that some could even be called good...that at times there could be honor and kindness.

But every time she’d let down her guard, one of them would do something to confirm to her that she was better off staying far away from all of them. But not just them, everyone.

Even hybrids.

Mermen. Centaurs. Satyrs. Nymphs. Fairies. She counted none of them as friends.  

The only thing she’d craved had been her isolation—a place in this world to call her own and make her own, to fashion and to mold to her own unique sensibilities.

And she’d done that.

She glanced up at the smooth, domed surface of her ceiling. The palace was a marvel of ingenuity and beauty. One with nature and yet separate from it too. The landscape she called home was harsh and unyielding, almost cruel to outsiders, but it’d embraced her. Taught her strength, courage, and conviction of heart.

Soon, other creatures had joined her. Polar bears. Arctic foxes. Snowbees. Snow leopards. She did not want for companionship. Her life was simple, but perfect.

A chilly blast of air whistled through an opening in the dome, combing through her hair. She’d built it that way, so that she could look at the stars.

Nibbling on the corner of her lip, Luminesa wondered at the properties of the mirror.

She could almost feel Baatha’s eyes drilling into her again. But she refused to look back at him.

Turning on her heel she marched directly to the desk and grabbing the leather, tipped it over so that the sliver spilled out. Its shiny glass surface almost seemed to sparkle.

She passed her palm just over it, and once again she felt the heavy press of its dark magick throb against her.

Baatha snapped his beak.

“I know what I’m doing.”

There was a rustle of feathers and then a powerful surge of wings and she knew he’d flown off in a furious huff. He did not trust anything that came from the Under Goblin and truthfully, neither did she.

But for better or worse she’d made the deal with him and was stuck for it now.

Planting her hands on either side of the mirror, she leaned over and peered into it. An image formed inside it. Small and too hard to make out a first. Nothing but a blur of shadow and movements. But eventually the colors formed into a tight ball and the shadows became full of light so that she could finally see the image before her.

It was pitch black out, and yet the moon was pregnant with a buttery soft light, highlighting the shapes walking bent forward against the arctic press of wind and snow, nearly obscured by the white out conditions.

There were three of them.

Huddled together for warmth, their footsteps slogging and weak. Pines and skeletal trees whipped and swayed behind them as they trudged slowly through the thickening swell.

She narrowed her eyes.

Two of them were unnaturally short—clearly the children. Coming only to waist height of the third figure.

The shoulders of the third was broad, but it was hard to say whether the individual was impressively built or simply swaddled in layers upon layers of animal skins.

A long trail of black hair billowed behind—the woman most likely with hair that length—her like a banner in a breeze. The woman wrapped her arms around the children, tucking them into her side, trudging onward with the persistent footsteps of one determined to make it out alive.

But her steps were strange, maybe due to the cold, her gait slightly off somehow. It was enough to make Luminesa idly curious, but nothing more.

She wondered why they continued to walk outside rather than seek shelter. It should have been the obvious first choice.

“They’ll never survive that way,” Luminesa muttered, knowing no human could withstand that arctic level of cold for long.

Just then the
woman
glanced up, staring at the sky with a bemused frown.

But the woman was no woman at all. She was a he. And
he
was the most beautiful man Luminesa had ever seen.

Eyes the color of a verdant spring meadow. Thick black brows and slashing cheekbones that framed a patrician nose and full—though not overly so—lips.

“Who’s there?” The man bellowed. “Who said that? We need help. We will die without shelter, please you—”

Jerking, as though slapped, Luminesa moved away from the glass. The moment she did the throaty tenor of his words died. There was no way the man could have heard her, and yet...she’d heard him.

With a hiss, she took a step away from the desk. Peering at it as though it were a wicked thing full of sharp teeth and intent on harm. Rubbing her hands together, until her fingers began to grow damp from the friction, she realized that her curiosity had not abated in the slightest.

In fact, it’d only grown worse.

Frowning, she twirled on her heels. Her agitation caused the snow bees circling her head to buzz an irritable symphony.

How was she supposed to do this? How was she supposed to help them? Panic clawed at her throat, what had she been thinking to enter into that arrangement with the Under Goblin? To put her life on the line for three perfect strangers...humans of all things.

Taking a deep, calming breath she forced her footsteps to slow and then lifting her head high, marched toward her throne and took a seat. Baatha came to her a moment later, his warm tawny eyes full of worry.

“I’m fine. You need not worry, my friend.”

He whistled a harsh blast through his beak. It’d not escaped his notice that she’d been acting more agitated than was normal. The Ice Queen was nothing if not the epitome of cool and collected. But even as she thought it she could still feel her pulse racing, still feel the heavy press of curiosity that made her stomach feel sick and twisted in knots.

Luminesa rubbed her brow.

“I will be fine. This shall pass.”

She wasn’t entirely sure she said it for his benefit though. Her left pinky finger couldn’t seem to stop twitching.

Licking her lips, she took several more calming breaths until eventually the flow of her blood evened out and the nervous tic of her finger ceased.

“I am fine.” She peered at him. “Truly.”

Hopping up onto her forearm—his sharp talons slightly painful as she’d forgotten to encase her form in ice when she’d returned to her palace—Baatha rubbed the crown of his soft head against her shoulder.

Her familiar was rarely given to sentimentality, but he’d clearly sensed her words for the lie they were.

She gently caressed his feathers. “All will be well.”

But deep down, Luminesa wasn’t sure that was true at all.

She could have sat there for days staring off into space and battling her internal need to leave the humans to fend for themselves—even knowing the fate that awaited her if she did—if a loud blast of noise hadn’t suddenly snapped her out of her reverie.

Frowning, she turned to Baatha. “Go see what this is about.”

With a powerful flap of his wings he sailed high into the air and out into the night, returning minutes later with a note wrapped around his foot.

He dropped to his ice stand, then cried at her loudly.

“Yes. Yes,” she grumped as she walked toward him. Baatha was practically vibrating with excitement when she got there. Only once she drew close did she notice what she hadn’t before, there was a smell lacing his feathers. An odor she rarely scented so high up in the mountains.

Equine flesh.

She sniffed once more.

Equine flesh, roasted meats, and fragrant barley.

Reaching for the note, she knew who it would be without even needing to open it.

Inside was the inked stamp of a horse’s hoof. Twirling on her heel, Luminesa flicked her wrist, creating a bridge of ice for her centaur neighbor to safely traverse.

Rarely had Luminesa come into contact with them through the many years she’d lived here, but occasionally a scout would come and seek her out requesting safe passage between this realm and theirs.

The centaurs were a race of warriors, beauty notwithstanding; they would as soon as stab you as welcome you into their dwellings. But they were fiercely intelligent, and even noble. The treaty she’d penned with the chieftain years ago still held strong even after all this time.

Wrapping a cloak of ice around her shoulders, Luminesa glided toward the entrance of her castle, watching as the lone centaur trotted steadily toward her.

Female, with a snowy white hindquarter bearing sweeping jet-black tribal markings on her back legs, she was a creature built to handle the snow. She wore a vest of snow-white plumage on her chest, but her arms and torso were exposed to the lashing snow, which didn’t seem to bother her in the slightest.

Her hair was thick and black—except for twin stripes of pure white that ran vertical down both sides of it—and trailed down her body in much the same fashion as a horse’s mane. Curving upward from the crown of her head were two small horns.

Something about the woman nagged at Luminesa, something familiar and yet foreign all at the same time. She narrowed her eyes, looking up at the creature who towered her by several feet when she’d finally come to a halt.

Her face was a thing of grace and beauty. Her features slightly equine, and yet also purely feminine. Green colored eyes with no irises stared back at Luminesa.

After several minutes, the centaur swept her arms to the side and gave Luminesa a regal bow.

“Ice Queen,” she said in a velvety voice. But that was all she said. Standing erect and proud once more, her mannerism was one of patient study.

Luminesa clipped her head in acknowledgement and greeting. “Centaur. Why have you come?”

Snow bees, curious creatures that they were, circled the centaur’s head, looking like a glimmering wreath of ice as they buzzed about her interestedly.

Her jaw clamped down tight, causing the powerful muscle in her cheek to twitch.

A nagging suspicion began to manifest in Luminesa. Peeking over the centaur’s shoulder, she looked for the dots of shadows that normally hid within the shelter of trees.

Centaurs were herd creatures. Never alone. If she’d been a scout, her party should have been behind her awaiting her signal that Luminesa had given her blessing to proceed through her lands.

But the shadows were not there.

“Does your Queen know you are here?”

A sound much like a neigh dropped from the centauress’s tongue. “No.”

Her brow twitched. “Then why have you come?”

A jet of arctic air whistled through the heavens, blasting between them. The touch of it soothed Luminesa’s cold soul, but the creature trembled. Her flanks twitched with a powerful spasm.

“I came to find you, Queen.”

“To render aid?” she asked, knowing already that if this centaur had dared to seek her out, it could be for no other reason.

She nodded once, stamping her front hoof in agitation.

“Why?”

The female looked off into the distance, her lips tugged down into a tight scowl. “My brother was stolen. Thrust into a land of ice which I cannot reach.”

Her fingers curled into a tight fist, and Luminesa knew that if the centaur could, she’d have had an arrow notched into the bow resting upon her back and aimed directly at Luminesa’s heart. Though centaurs were honorable, they weren’t known for being very trusting. It was why they preferred to stick to their kind almost exclusively, only stepping outside of their herd during times of absolute necessity.

To see this centauress here, now, and alone...something very grave had happened indeed.

She lifted a brow. “And you think I’ve done this?”

Scowling fiercely, the centaur looked her head on and grunted, “Aye, I do.”

Had she been less discombobulated by the events of the day, Luminesa might have caused a wind to roll by, pick her up, and toss her unceremoniously down the side of a cliff. But there was something about this female Luminesa liked. Her straightforwardness, her fearlessness—possibly even recklessness—in seeking her out herself even knowing the consequences that could incur.

“I did not do it to him,” she finally said.

“Then who has!” The centauress demanded, again kicking out her hoof.