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

He trailed a long, curved claw along her cheek, cutting her open and making her bleed. She hissed at the ribbon of pain that blossomed beneath his touch.

“I should have killed you when I had the chance.” She stated matter-of-factly.

“Oh, my beauty,” he crooned, but his words lacked tenderness, “yes, yes you should have.”

Laughter danced inside his starry eyes. Then latching his hands around her wrists, he yanked her tight to his chest, moving so that the heavy weight of his cock pressed tight against her thigh.

She hated him now with a passion that burned hotter than the sun. She’d trusted him as a friend and he’d given her nothing in return but scorn, disdain, and hate.

“Now listen to me well, you bitch,” he hissed, “you’re absolutely right, I have done something. I’ve done a very clever something. You love your riddles, your little games, well let us play one together. Like old times.”

He leaned in, his lips so close to hers that she felt the heat of him wash against her.

Luminesa said nothing, refusing to be goaded by him. Fiery anger wasn’t a killing anger; it was quickly ignited and quickly burned out. It was show, and nothing more. No, it was the cold anger that should be feared. The one that took weeks, months, even years to make manifest, the one that took time and thought and plotting to see come to fruition.

Because there were no messy emotions involved in that kind of war, simply rational reasoning and years of forethought and planning. It was exacting, cold, and calculating.

She narrowed her eyes. “What game?”

He continued to rub her wrists with his thumbs, creating a sizzling burn that made her want to cry out in agony, but she refused to give him the satisfaction.

Curling his nose, he looked down at her now blistered flesh, and clearly realizing she would not give him the satisfaction of crying out in pain, he finally released her with an angry jerk.

Luminesa lifted her chin high, refusing to rub her wrists or show any other sign of weakness in front of him.

“That looking glass you have in your pouch, it is mine. Now yours. Call it a...” he flicked his wrist as though searching for the right word, “gift.”

It was hard swallowing her disgust for the man. When he chose to be, the Goblin could be charismatic, some might even say charming. She’d once thought so herself. Monsters came in many shapes, sizes, and forms. Some of them came in ugly packages and were easy to see for what they really were, but some came dressed up as something glorious and unique and wholly different, utter perfection.

Luminesa had always been a terrible judge of men, and it saddened her to realize that even now, even having gone through all she had before she’d become the woman of legend, not much had changed.

She was still a poor judge of character, but at least now she was no longer blinded to the Goblin’s ways. And she’d be damned if she ever let him fool her again.

Calling a cloud heavy with moisture to her, she leaned into its comforting presence as the first fat flakes of snow fell around her shoulders like dancing snow bees.

He grinned. “Wilting so soon, my pretty? Well, we don’t want that, do we? So let me be quick about this so that you may leave as soon as can be. I’ve decided that since you’re a creature of honor,” his lip curled as though the very word tasted like ordure on his tongue, “I would stop the petty games we play, and come at you with a deal much too good to pass up.”

Her flesh tingled, not liking this at all. The Goblin was not known for being an honorable creature, with one exception. He could not lie. Oh, he could evade the truth with twists, and turns, and hoops that made you dizzy, but he could not outright lie. And if you knew how to deal with him, you could actually enter into an arrangement, so long as you were always aware of every byline of the laws and rules he played by.

Her lips thinned. “What is your game?”

He shrugged, spreading his hands wide. “Simple enough really. I win, I take it all back. You win, and I leave you alone forever.”

Her heart beat a terrible tattoo in her chest, excitement warring with caution. She did not trust this sudden altruism of his.

“Why? Why would you do that?”

He grinned. “Because I know I will not lose.”

Every cell in her body flashed a warning not to trust this, not to believe his words.

Oh, his hubris was true enough; him believing he would not lose wasn’t the issue here. No one person was infallible, not even the Under Goblin, though he’d love to believe it so. There was always a kernel of hope, a chance at success even with his twisted games, though with him those kernels were few and hard to find.

“What happens to me if I lose?” she asked quickly.

He grinned, exposing two sharp rows of teeth. “I take away the genie’s spell which turned you from woman to ice, making you human again. Pathetic again.”

She shivered.

That was a fate worse than death for her. To be flesh, to be weak again, goddess help her. She’d rather he kill her than steal her magic.

“And if I win you leave me alone, never to come back?”

“As I said.”

She shook her head. “I want more than that. I want it all. I take all your lands; you become nothing but a ghost, a nomad, fated to forever wander and never know what it means to have a home again. Forever doomed to drift through Kingdom with no hope, no light, and no way to ever, ever harm another again.”

Tossing his head back, he laughed uproariously. “My dear, sweet ice, how very cruel you’ve become. I do hope I had nothing to do with this transformation.” His grin widened as he took up a curl of her hair and let it slide between his fingers.

She stood absolutely still, staring him down. It wasn’t all about him, her hatred of men in general had been secured the day a man she’d thought had been a friend had taken his knife to her tongue and cut it off for daring to cry out during his violent act against her.

For a second she’d wavered in her knowledge that men were evil, the Goblin had made her believe that maybe out in the world existed some who were kind and good and honorable. Until he’d shattered her heart and soul and laughed in her face when she’d dared to cry.

Men were evil, and the Goblin was one of the worst.

“Fine. Fine, I give it all to you. Everything.”

Wrapping her arms tight around herself, she took a step back. This was too easy. Too simple. He was much too sure of himself. She shook her head.

“I do not trust you, demon.”

“I cannot lie, my dear, though it vexes me so, you know this is truth.”

For years the Under Goblin had been a constant source of pain to her. Killing off her creatures that roamed her icy forests, blasting jets of heat through her lands, so that her snows would melt, and wrecking havoc on her home.

To imagine a time without him in it, it seemed impossible. Too good to be true.

But what had he done?

As though sensing her thoughts, he stepped forward an inch and bit his bottom lip. “Do you wish to know the game?”

She should say no, tell him to go straight to the underworld and be gone. But the promise of a world without him in it was too much for her to ignore.

“What have you done?”

Rubbing his hands together forcefully, he grinned broadly. “I am glad you’ve asked. The glass shard you’ve brought me, it is a looking glass. For you to see through, within it you’ll find a group of three...humans—”

She narrowed her eyes, catching the obvious pause when he’d said it.

“—trapped in an endless cycle of winter. Homeless. Without food. Water. Shelter. Nothing.”

She frowned. “I do not like humans. Why would you think I cared?”

His smile was pure venom as he said. “No, you do not like the males. But you do not mind the little children.”

She gasped, clutching at her gown. “That is depraved even for you.”

He winked. “Why, thank you.”

“It wasn’t a compliment, you foul bastard.” 

But she knew he’d taken it as one anyway the moment he bowed deeply at her.

“What are the rules?” she snapped.

Luminesa still did not know that she wanted to get involved in his games; the Goblin had a cruel streak that turned her stomach.

“Simple really, find the hidden key to the doorway that leads them out of there.”

She cocked her head. “That sounds far too easy.”

Inhaling deeply, he seemed terribly pleased with himself as he said, “You’d think so, no?”

He chuckled.

“How long would I have?”

He shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know, does a month sound fair to you?”

Why was he doing this? It seemed far too easy, but nothing was ever easy with him. And yes, she knew failure would result in her being turned human again, a prize he’d been after for some time now. But nothing was ever
this
easy with him.

If she asked all the right questions he’d have to answer them. Only problem was she didn’t know which questions to ask.

She shook her head. “I will not do this.”

He shrugged. “You do not have to. But it changes nothing for them. They will merely be killed sooner.”

Normally, Luminesa would not have cared what happened to the humans. They were cutthroat, cruel, and a dangerous lot. She’d seen the worst of humanity and knew that that seed of darkness dwelled in the souls of every one of them, even those who professed goodness.

But there were children...

“Damn you,” she hissed.

He nodded. “Thank you. But so you know I’m being truly fair, ask me any questions you’d like. Of course I’ll answer them honestly.”

She still didn’t want to do this. At all. Luminesa wanted no part of the human world; she’d renounced it the moment she’d died to it.

“No interference from you?”

“None, so far as it does not already pertain to my game.”

Hm. She didn’t like that answer, but at least he was honestly letting her know that there was a plan. Forewarned was forearmed, as they said.

“And I can use any means necessary to save them from your world of ice?”

He nodded. “It is not my ice, dear, it is yours. I merely placed them inside a maze of it with no end and no beginning, though there is one way out, and one way only.” He held up a finger with a long curved talon. “I told you, I’m being completely fair in this.”

“So it’s a puzzle I must figure out?”

A mysterious grin played along the fringe of his lips. One that reminded her that nothing was ever as simple as it seemed with him.

“How old are the children?”

He lifted a peaked brow. “Does it matter? Would you choose not to save them if I said they were twelve and fifteen?”

She thrust her lower jaw out. “How. Old?”

“Five. And seven.”

She closed her eyes.

He’d known her well enough to know why she’d asked. It wasn’t that Luminesa hated mankind, although perhaps she did, the truth was she hated their darkness. Hated their capacity for such great evil.

But ones as young as those were far more innocent than not. How could she knowingly condemn them to their deaths when she could at least try to help?

The cost of losing wasn’t simply high for them though; it was high for her as well. She’d lose everything she was. The life she’d carved out for herself.

“Where do I find the door?”

He laughed, wagging a finger under her nose. And she was sure he’d taunt her, saying that he’d never make it that easy for her, but he surprised her by saying instead, “In the beat of one.”

She frowned. Confused by that. “What does that even mean, in the beat of one?”

He grinned. But did not answer. She knew she was close to the truth of the riddle because of how he’d evaded answering the question. But what in the world did in the beat of one mean?

However she knew she’d get nowhere questioning him further on that point.

“One month?” she asked again, wanting him to verbally confirm it. His words needed to be carried by the breeze, only then could they become reality.

“One month only. Not a day less. Not a day more.”

Luminesa squeezed her eyes shut. Why was she doing this? Even contemplating doing this? For children she’d never met, for humans who’d grow up to become people of such wicked, foul hearts that she’d regret it every day of her life afterward?

Latching his hand to hers, he squeezed. “What say you?”

His voice was a thick growl full of fury, but also humor. She should tell him to go straight to hell, turn around and go back to her home. Forget about the trapped souls he’d hidden away.

Block them out of her life; forget they’d ever been.

But the children...

Glowering, she gave him her frostiest stare. “I loathe you. And when I win this, as I shall, I will reduce you down to nothing, Under Goblin. You will be nothing but a snake crushed beneath my heel.”

His grin was lecherous. “It is sealed.”

A mighty rush of wind rolled between them, echoing with the pulse of primal, raw power. And she quaked as the magnitude of what she’d just agreed to made itself known to her.

“By the way,” he said when he dropped her hand, “I may have failed to mention that one is not simply just human.” He shrugged. “Mostly human.”

She frowned. Heart clenching. “What do you mean, mostly human?”

“I’m sure you’ll learn soon enough.” Then he clapped his hands and the heavens shook with a roll of thunder.

Luminesa shivered, staring at the empty space where he’d stood just moments before.

The flinty echo of his laughter chilled her heart to its very core.

Luminesa

L
uminesa strode silently upon the glasswork smoothness of her ice palace floor later that night. Baatha sat looking regal upon the gleaming silvery-blue armrest of her throne.

She’d taken the pouch out of her bodice and had even dared to open it again. Then she’d promptly sat it upon her desk and tried to forget about it. But no matter how long she walked, or where she looked, the siren’s song of that spelled bit of looking glass called to her.

“I know what you’re thinking, Baatha, and I am not so weak as that.”

Her familiar merely continued to look at her with a penetratingly chill glare.