Spring Frost (7 page)

         
You and I are alike, Kian
I thought glumly.
Neither one of us can live without honor. We would rather give everything else up – but not that.
I looked out the window, casting my glance over Autumn Springs towards Feyland in the distance. The suns had returned; two gleaming balls of brightness spread out over the horizon.
So beautiful,
I thought to myself.
Too beautiful.
How could I let myself think, even for a moment, that I would allow Clariss to cast a shadow over the lands – over the hills and valleys, the sweet springs and the violent waterfalls – that I so loved? No, I thought, gritting my teeth. Better to die in a Feyland that was still beautiful than to live outside it, my heart torn out by grief and despair.

          But even if I died…would it really save Feyland? My jaw clenched; my heart began to beat faster. If I died, what was to stop Clariss from sauntering in and taking over Feyland, sitting upon
my
throne, wearing
my
crown. What would happen to my king, my Kian? My body began to tense with rage at the very thought! I trusted Kian and Logan – I trusted my armies. But what if they weren’t enough? What if the Dark Hordes returned – this time, as Clariss had said, with I myself at the helm? Would I spend the rest of eternity a shapeless zombie, performing Clariss’ wicked will? Such a thought was too dire for me to think about. The Dark Sorceress’ powers were the greatest we had faced in all our struggles before. She was the conjurer of the Dark Hordes. Her magic transcended life and death, immortality and mortality, and the borders between worlds. Combined that with the vengeful evil wrath of Clariss, the one human without a sense of humanity, she was too powerful to defeat. She made the Dark Hordes, took away the Twin Suns, and caused all of Feyland to die. How was I going to defeat her?

          Tears came to my eyes – savage blue tears, tinted by the poison in my blood. Was this to be the end of Feyland? There had to be another way – there was
always
another way! Had Kian and I – not to mention Logan, Alistair, Shasta, Rodney, and Rose – not suffered enough, overcome enough obstacles to be together and to save Feyland? Would there always be some new danger, some new threat on the horizon? Even if we did manage to cure me, to hold of Clariss, would some new danger, lurking in the shadows, appear to destroy us all? We were fighting a losing game with evil: a game we would never win.

         
Is this how it ends? Evil triumphing over good? The wicked finishing last?

           
I wiped the tears from my eyes, as hurriedly as I could. I didn’t want anyone else to see me crying, and with Alistair lurking about, I wasn’t safe from prying eyes. Whatever was wrong with Alistair, it wasn’t about to get better, not without some serious magic to save him. I sat down on the bed, pushing the hair out of my eyes. I was willing to sacrifice myself – that much was my duty as Queen of Feyland – but could I sacrifice Alistair? Clariss had promised to cure him, after all: could I really be responsible for his madness? Every minute that passed by was another minute for the poison to seep deep within him; every moment that he spent under Clariss’ influence was another chance for evil to trickle into his bloodstream. I would spent the remainder of my short life watching, waiting for signs of Alistair’s madness, wondering if
this
,
this
were the moment during which I would have to kill him.

          A murderous rage rose up within me – inexplicably and yet terrifying. It overwhelmed me; it seemed to take control of my brain, of my body. I was shivering with cold; now I was shaking with anger. A feeling of profound evil, like an electric shock, had passed through me. I looked up at the mirror in shock, gasping as I caught sight of my reflection. I looked cruel. Wicked. Murderous. My light eyes had turned black with hatred. I clasped my hand to my mouth. Was this what I was becoming? Was this what the poison was turning it into?

          I rushed from the room, unable to bear the silence a moment longer. I couldn’t bear to be left alone with my own thoughts, my own fears.

          “Breena!” A voice interrupted me and stopped me straight in my tracks. “Before you go – there’s something I want to give you.” It was the Duke of Autumn Springs, jovial and kind. There was a look of such warmth in his eyes –it made me ashamed of my fear, of my doubts. I could trust him; I knew. He was worth trusting.

          “Yes?” I quickly rearranged my features, hoping that the Duke wouldn’t see the nervousness on my face. “What is it?”

          Alistair emerged from the shadows. “Can I help you, uncle?”

          The Duke sighed. “There is…a potential treatment. Not a cure, mind you. But a potential treatment. Something that could last you a few days, that could slow down the effects of the Freeze. It was prepared many centuries ago by the Enchantress; nobody knows how the potion is made, nor its secret ingredients, though many have tried. I didn’t want to get your hopes up, but I have been able to purchase a quantity of this potion through one of the merchants who makes his trade selling in a shop in the village. It should stop the spread of the poison for ten days. Thus, divided between you and Alistair…”

          “Five days each,” I echoed. “That should be enough to give us a head start on finding a cure.”

          “No,” said Alistair softly. I turned to look at him. His bright blue eyes shone out at me – there was a kindness, a gentleness in his eyes I had not seen for some time. These were the eyes of the true Alistair, not the poisonous creature that had taken over his body. “Ten days,” he said. “Ten days for Breena.”

          “What, Alistair? No, you can’t…”

          “I know what I’m doing,” said Alistair. “It was my own fault for reading that book. My pride led me to believe I was invincible. Feyland needs its Queen, Breena. And I have taken an oath. An oath to serve and protect you. Whatever happens to me…” he swallowed hard, and in that moment he looked younger and more vulnerable than ever before. “I can take it. It’s my duty. I won’t swallow one drop of that potion, Breena, no matter how hard you try to persuade me. I can promise you that. So you might as well drink it. So there.” He crossed his arms, as if to drive the point home.         

          “Are you…ah…are you sure, Alistair?” The Duke looked worried.

          “I am sure.” Alistair did not look up.

          “In that case…very well…”  The Duke turned to me.

          “I hope it did not come at too great a price, Your Grace,” I said. But the Duke’s eyes travelled to a corner of the room, and my gaze followed his. A gorgeous golden statue, which I had recalled only that morning, was now absent from the landing. Sold, no doubt.

          “One day I hope to be able to repay you, Your Grace,” I said.

          “It was nothing,” he said. “A trifle. A trinket. The unity and salvation of Feyland – there is no price too great.”

          “I owe you my life, Duke,” I said, trying not to let my voice tremble as I thought about just how short that life would be. “I hope one day I am able to return your kindness. And I am…sorry about Alistair.”

          The Duke’s eyes filled with sadness.

          “I’ll be fine,” said Alistair shortly. “I’ll find a cure – for both of us, Breena. And if I don’t, well.” he laughed darkly. “I’ve had a good life.”

          How brave Alistair was – facing his madness without fear! I wished I could assume just a little of his courage.

          The Duke handed me a small clear vial filled with orange-red liquid. I eagerly gulped it down. It tasted like honey – a warm, soothing taste that seemed to warm my throat and my insides. A wave of calm swept over me, and I closed my eyes. The murderous rage, the fear, the anger all subsided; I looked down to see my veins – still blue – yet less prominent than before. My skin was returning to a color that imitated health. It wasn’t a permanent fix, I knew, but it was better than it had been before.

            Ten days.

 That was how much time I had. Time to find a cure – or time to prepare for death. I shuddered at the thought.
I have ten days to save Feyland.
It wasn’t much time, I knew, but it was all we had.

          The sound of the clock chiming reminded me of just how brief that time was.

          “It is time for you to set out, Your Highness,” said the Duke. “You will want to ensure that you are in the Winter Court by nightfall.”

          I didn’t know what to say. But – in a gesture that broke all rules of royal protocol – I thanked him the only way I knew how. In a great, soulful bear-hug.

          “No need for that, Highness,” he said. “You’ll be fine.”      

          I only wished I could believe him.

Chapter 8

         
I
made my way down to the Great Hall, where the others were already waiting for me. Logan was standing with his arms crossed, looking out of the window with a grave look upon his face. Shasta and Rodney were huddled in a corner; his broad arms enveloped her slender shoulders. They both looked exhausted. I couldn’t blame them. Shasta and Rodney had been through so much – our quest to restore the Suns of Feyland had been Shasta’s one chance at making amends for the damage she had caused by accidentally summoning the Dark Hordes. But I could see the guilt in her eyes: Shasta was ashamed of her actions, even now. No matter how many heroic actions she performed; no matter how many lives she saved…the look of darkness in Shasta’s eyes would never change. She would never forget the cost of that moment of selfishness. It would always haunt her.

          Rose brightened when she saw Alistair coming downstairs alongside me, but her expression turned to consternation as Alistair got closer. I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt as Rose’s eyes settled on Alistair’s pallid expression.

          “Are you okay, Alistair?” she asked softly. “You look a little…”

          “I’ll be fine!” Alistair brushed away her concerns with harsh brusqueness. “Don’t you worry about me.” He did not meet her gaze. There was something sharp, almost cruel in his voice. A touch of Clariss’ poison? I couldn’t let myself wonder about that.

         
Poor Alistair
, I thought to myself. He had given up his share of the potion – but in so doing he had put a ticking bomb in the midst of his own existence: who knows how much longer he had left to live? But he wasn’t about to let on that he was afraid. Instead he stood with his arms crossed and his gaze downcast – Rose, at his side, looked more than a little hurt. Would things never be happy for them, I wondered?

          “My love!” Kian bounded over to my side. “How are you feeling, my dearest one? Any better?” He made as if to touch me, but pulled back, his face falling. “Sorry, I almost forgot…”

          “No, it’s okay,” I said. I looked down at my hands – my veins seemed less blue, my skin less white. I tentatively stepped forward, reaching out towards him and taking his hands in mine. I lightly ascended on my tiptoes and kissed him – hesitantly, but sweetly, allowing him to feel the slow burn of my love. It did not hurt as it had done before – or, at least, I could bear the pain – but this time an involuntary shiver made my discomfort clear. “It’s better than it was,” I said. I felt calmer now. The rage that had characterized my morning had subsided; instead, I felt a rush of inner serenity and strength. I was tired – so tired that my muscles and body ached to sleep – but I knew that time was running out. We had to get to the Winter Court as quickly as possible.

          “I don’t want to hurt you,” said Kian, looking ashamed – as if, somehow, my pain was his fault.

          “Being without you hurts me even more,” I said. “This pain is better than the pain of not being able to sleep in your arms.”

          Kian smiled sadly. “But if only we could have both,” he said.

          “If only, indeed.”