Gathering Frost (Once Upon A Curse Book 1) (18 page)

No guards line the walls. No soldiers. No protectors.

We are alone.

Why then, am I more afraid than ever?

"Your Majesty." I bow as deeply as I can given that my hands still hold Asher's binds. He is struggling against me, but it doesn't quite feel real. If he wanted to, Asher could break my grip easily, even with his hands tied. His strength greatly exceeds my own. Which means he still trusts me. Still believes in me, even as I deviate from the plan we discussed for hours on end.

Our skin brushes together while he moves, little kisses that ignite the nerves in my hands. The flares are distracting, if only because I know I will never feel them again. My resolve is firm, but I'm not sure how much longer I will last. Fear clutches my heart. Trepidation stalls my movements.

Before I can give into the doubts, I act.

Shoving as hard as I can, I push Asher forward. He tumbles across the floor, unprepared, bashing his head against the tile since his hands are not free to catch him. When his body comes to rest, his face turns, finds me. A bloody cut has opened, dripping down the pristine skin of his forehead, covering the eyes I love so much. But it does not hide the confusion spreading across his features.

Asher still doesn't understand.

"I have brought you your son." I almost wince at the sound of my voice. Was it always this sharp? This cruel?

As though the words have hit him like a physical force, a tremor shutters down Asher's body, curls it in tighter so he looks almost like a little boy. "Jade?" he whispers, soft.

I do not meet his eyes. I'm too afraid of what I'll find. Though my body is still, my mind screams that there is time to stop, to help Asher, to heed his wishes.

But what about my wish? I want to see him live.

I will see him live. 

"Please don't do this," he pleads, words meant only for my ears. And the lullaby in his voice lulls me, pulls me in, as though entranced. I want to remain impassive, a stone statue, but I cannot. My eyes travel slowly down, across the floor, to where he lays, a heap on the floor.

The moment our eyes meet, I know what I must do.

All this time, I was given every opportunity to tell Asher the truth, to confess that he never really captured me, that it was all part of a greater plan. But I never did. Why? I did not want to hurt him, not when we had begun to grow close. There was never a good time, no opportune moment. In the end, I couldn't bear to lose him—at least that is what I told myself. But now I wonder if it was something else?

What if deep down, I always knew that I would need this last weapon, one great lie that will convince the queen I belong to her, will convince Asher I never belonged to him? I keep my gaze locked on his as I open my mouth and say the words I never could before.

"I have followed my orders, Your Majesty. As asked, I allowed your son to capture me and bring me to the rebel camp. I convinced him to trust me and now have returned him to you unharmed."

Understanding dawns. The changes to Asher's features are small at first, the curl of his lip, the furrow of his brow, the flare of his nostrils. His angles slowly grow harsh, turn accusing. The darkness spreads, stealing the light from his indigo eyes, snuffing out the stars I love so much, the ones that seemed to guide me home. Now we are both lost, adrift at sea, anchorless and without direction.

Deep in his irises, I see the truth. Though anger flares across his skin, down in the depths of his soul all that exists is pain. His heart has cracked, small at first, but spreading, extending, shattering slowly enough that he experiences each fracture. I know, because my chest feels the same, so hot with hurt that I cannot move, can barely breathe.

I find the will to pull my gaze away, snapping any connection we ever had, and my heart finally bursts to pieces.

The queen watches me with interest, a small smile across her lips. I am dead inside. Rotted to my core, so ashamed that I might crumble at any second, broken down from the inside out. But that only makes my act stronger. My features are stony, hard. I do not cry. I am barely aware of the world around me.

The queen stands, stepping down off her throne. Each click of her shoes echoes across the small room, and I hold myself steady. Asher's eyes burn my cheeks, a weapon as his glare digs under my skin. But we've come too far to stop now.

"Very well done," the queen says as she approaches. I wait for her magic to call on me, to freeze my insides. But I am not five years old anymore. I have lived. I have made choices that will haunt the rest of my years. And as her icy fingers brush my cheeks, cool and cold, I realize she cannot touch me.

My heart is already gone. Tattered. Shredded and broken on the floor beside my feet. There is nothing in my soul for her to take because I have destroyed it already. The frost does not cover my insides, does not burn my memories away. They are all too real, too raw. The queen cannot bury me in her snowflakes. Her crystals do not crawl their way through my veins.

Our eyes meet and in that moment our thoughts are the same, I am finally free, just as she promised. But at what price?

"Jade." She sighs, but it is a sound filled with warmth, with excitement. Her fingers continue to caress my cheek, but the touch has become loving in a way, motherly. "I am so proud of the work you've done. You have no idea. I sent you out into the world a little girl, and you have returned more of a woman than I dared hope."

"Stop," Asher growls. My heart clenches tight. I have never heard his voice sound so ugly. "Just stop."

He stands and the rope falls to the floor behind him. Asher has untied my knots, but he does not reach for the knives at his waist. He does not reach for the gun strapped to his thigh. He reaches for me.

I am immobile as his soft hand grabs my arm, pulling me away from the queen, pulling me toward him. I cannot breathe as heat floods my veins. Pain or pleasure, I'm not sure. His fingers travel up until his palms hold my face tight, force my eyes to meet his, demanding, still unable to believe what he is seeing.

"I know what you're doing, Jade, and I won't let you." His fingers grip tighter, and I realize that Asher has guessed the truth—he has read it in my eyes. He knows that I will not let him die. Even in the face of my betrayal, he has chosen to see the good in me.

I don't deserve such loyalty.

It takes all my strength to keep my hands at my side, to not throw them around his neck, to stay away. I imagine his lifeless corpse dead on the ground. The vision pushes me through, helps me carry on, because in the end this will all be worth it.

Asher will be alive.

And I will endure any pain to make sure that happens.

"I don't know what you mean." My voice is even, steady.

"Don't do this to us."

"There is no us. I'm not who you think I am. I never was."

"I know exactly who you are, Jade. I knew it the day I met you and I know it now. You're the only one who has ever been confused," he whispers, sad, wiping my cheek one more time, as though catching an invisible tear. But I don't miss the movement of his other hand as it slips beneath his shirt, searching for a knife.

So that is how this will end. The same way it began.

A fight.

I have no choice but to stop him. I need the queen to believe me, to trust that I am loyal to her unconditionally. Somehow, I know the answer is there. The way to save Asher's life rests deep in the secrets of Queen Deirdre's black heart. I'm sure of it. Why else would she need him returned unharmed? Why else did she ask me to retrieve him? We are just pawns in her plan. But if it means saving his life, I will gladly play my part.

Asher pulls a silver blade free and I attack. 

He anticipates my punch and sidesteps it easily. But I find my footing and surge forward, aiming a kick at his abdomen. I connect. He grunts, dropping the knife, wheeling around to turn his focus completely on me.

The queen plays bystander, watching as though we are actors in a play, amused. The commander moves to intervene as Asher and I circle one another, but she waves him off.

This is our battle. Our fight.

I run forward, tired of the delay, but Asher takes my hands, flipping me over his back so I land hard on the ground, wind knocked out of my lungs. I cough, finding my breath, and stand again.

But before I even reach my knees, he punches me in the stomach and I roll, world flipping upside down then right side up again. I meet his eyes and find despair. I have forced him into this. I have pushed my gentle prince aside, have broken his spirit, have turned him into someone he does not recognize.

Asher grabs my arms and throws me to the side. I do not even try to fight back. Because I know who he is, and I know that in the end he won't be able to do it.

I watch as he dips his hand into his pocket, retrieving the handgun we hid there. The black metal is unnatural against his ivory skin, evil in the hands of a person who is so good. A tear falls free from Asher's eye as he raises the weapon higher, points the barrel at his mother's heart.

I wonder if he feels that it is lighter than it should be, or if that sort of knowledge is only reserved for people like me, people who consider deadly weapons an extra appendage, as easy to use as my hands or feet.

My eyes drift to the queen. No panic shines in her eyes, no doubt. Like me, she knows who her son is. She knows she has nothing at all to fear.

The click of the safety being removed is deafening to my ear. Asher tightens his shaking hand, grasping the hilt with fingers firm, determined, resolute.

Time halts.

I want to scream at Asher, tell him not to do it, that he will hate himself. If he shoots, even though no bullet will fly out, the boy I love will break. Will disappear. But I can't say anything. All I can do is trust that he is not the murderer he is trying to be.

His finger dips down to the trigger.

And then nothing. He holds it there. Body shaking.

He cannot shoot.

Asher throws the gun to the side and falls to his knees, releasing a scream that rips his insides raw, tears its way out of his throat. The mourning of a man who faced his destiny and could not see it through.

But on the inside, I smile with relief. I don't know what Asher's destiny is, but I know it was not that. He was never meant to be a killer.

I walk over slowly, confident that all the fight has left him, and bind Asher's hands once more. He does not stir. Does not move. I want to weep for him, but I cannot. I want to brush away his tears, but I pull my hands back to my side.

"Commander Alburn, take my son away," the queen drawls, distaste evident in her voice. I wonder for a moment if she wanted him to shoot, just to prove her wrong.

Instead she takes my hand. "Come, Jade."

I yearn to turn my head, to look at Asher one more time. Even if his eyes shine with hatred, I want to see them. I want a last look that I can hold close. But I have come too far to turn back now. Though Asher is alive, he must be dead to me. That is the price I paid to save his life. So I step emotionless with the queen. My heart is worn out. My mind can hardly think. Even though I am victorious, I am empty inside.

She leads me to the balcony where this all began, where she gave me my assignment, and in my naïveté I said yes.

"You have proven yourself to me today, Jade. It takes a very special person to break my curse. No one has done it before, but I hoped you would."

"Why?" I ask, emboldened.

"Do you know how the magic works?"

"Asher told me," I whisper. "He said he was the heir, that the magic would pass to him after you died."

I look away, afraid that the pain in my eyes will reveal the truth. My gaze drops down to my home. The stone houses. The wall. The corroding metal. Beyond to the ocean, to the point where it meets the sky, extending farther and farther, until earth and air become one. How stupid I was to think I would ever be free of this place. To see possibilities on the horizon. 

"Yes, he would. But my son never cared much for the magic, never wanted to learn the lessons I tried to teach him. And in doing so, sealed his own fate."

My head snaps up. "You're not going to kill him, are you?"

I try to control my voice, to seem impassive. But she is not watching me. Her eyes are on the sky.