Gathering Frost (Once Upon A Curse Book 1) (19 page)

"No, I'm going to replace him." She pauses, looks down at me, and I know everything is about to change. The queen is going to tell me her secrets. My heart grows lighter and I stifle a smile, because in her words I know I'll find the key to Asher's life, his freedom. All of the pain pricking my chest will be worth it.

"My son is weak. He is too merciful to rule, and though I tried for many years, no second child has ever filled my womb. And then our worlds merged, and I met a little girl who was unafraid, fearless, and I thought perhaps my luck had changed. So I let the commander raise you, teach you to fight. You grew strong, willful. You learned to take what you wanted because the world would not hand it to you. And all the while I watched from a distance. But now you are ready."

I can't breathe.

Can't think.

Here it comes. Asher's only hope. My soul's salvation.

The queen grasps my hands, but I don't feel her skin. I am aware of nothing but the words waiting on her lips.

"Blood is not the only thing that can define an heir. As with all things magic, there are loopholes. But the rules are very precise, and only someone strong enough to break my spell can become my new heir… Someone like you."

A bomb explodes in my head. But the debris is not chaotic, it is organized, it falls like puzzle pieces, finding one another, forming a picture that grows ever clearer.

I am going to be Queen Deirdre's new heir.

When she dies the magic will fall on me.

I stumble, holding onto the railing, bringing a smile to my face as though I am excited, but in truth my insides scream. The queen puts her arm around my shoulders, as affectionate as I've ever seen her. I am too numb to pull away.

How did I not see this before?

Now that the truth has been laid bare before me, it is so obvious. For a mere moment in time, I allowed myself to believe Asher and I would be together, that somehow we would save each other, that in the end our love would defy the odds. I let myself hope. But it blinded me to the one certainty I should have known all along.

Our story has always been a tragedy.

Asher and I were destined to meet, but not because of love. He was born into the wrong role. Asher is the good one, the gentle soul, the hero. And the fates needed to correct their mistake, so they led him to me.

The soldier. The killer. 

I am the one destined to put a bullet in Queen Deirdre's head.

I am the one destined to die.

I thought betraying Asher was the worst thing I would ever do.

I was wrong.

The rebels march on Kardenia, and like lambs to the slaughter, I will lead them to their doom. For over a week the queen has been tracking their movement with her power, and last night they set up camp just outside New York.

Now I am marching beyond the wall, on my way to greet them, to tell them the queen is dead. Then I will lure them into Kardenia, making their worst nightmare come true.

I'm not sure why the queen does not pull them into her thrall already, why she didn't do it days ago, why I have been sent to retrieve them, to betray them as well.

Is it another test of my loyalty?

Is her magic not as strong as I believe? 

Or does she simply get pleasure from witnessing other people's pain?

Either way, I have no choice. Queen Deirdre has not mentioned the heir transferal again. I have no idea how it works, what I must do, if Asher is even involved. And until that magic washes over me, until I am confident that I have the tools necessary to destroy her, I will do exactly as she says.

Ahead, the end of the tree line filters into view, the divider between the forest of Central Park and the metal wreckage of old New York. Over my shoulder, the castle looms above the edge of the wall, overlooking the city, as visible in the skyline as any skyscraper. A white flag billows atop the highest spire, flopping in the sun, brilliantly catching the light. It was to be Asher and my signal that all was clear, that the queen was dead and the rebels could approach the city. But now it is an omen of the frost about to invade their bodies, the crystalline ivory that will soon incase their hearts. A sense of dread fills my veins, slowing me as though a physical weight has been pressed against my chest.

I will free them.

That is the only thought carrying me through. Just like I will save Asher, I will save everyone that I curse this day. A little bit of time and two bullets are all I need. Then everyone in this city will be free, forever.

I take a deep breath, using those promises to calm myself, to prepare for the lies about to come. Closing my eyes tight, I turn back around. In the black haven behind my lids, my heartbeat slows, my mind clears, the catch in my throat disappears. I swallow and then open my eyes, ready.

I know the rebels are out here somewhere, hidden within my metal city. My gaze travels over the broken lines before me—the bent iron, the shattered glass, the crumbling stone—searching for human life. These ruins have been my playground for years. It's only a matter of time before I find them.

The search begins on Eighth Avenue, the route I told General Willis he should take when approaching Kardenia. The streets are clean, the road leads easily to the wall, and it is wide enough to hold an army.

I barely walk ten blocks before I see them approaching, decorated in all different clothes—ashen grays, deep blacks, camouflaged greens. There is no reason, no uniform, but I like it. Somehow it seems the exact way freedom fighters should look. They do not stop when they see me, but instead press forward until we are only a few feet apart. I don't fail to notice that they have not lowered their weapons.

I raise my empty hands, open, trying to convey that I come as a friend, I come in victory, and there is no reason to fight. Though my muscles are tight, anxious about what I must do, a smile comes easily to my face. Despite it all, I am happy to see these people. Excited even. The rebel base had started to feel like home, and I miss it.   

From behind the front line, General Willis steps through the crowd. The silver in his hair catches the light and his face is grooved with shadows. Out in the open, drenched in sunlight, he looks smaller than I remembered. Frailer. Older.

"Where is Asher?" he asks. No greeting. No hello. Though I try not to care, it stings, a little puncture in my chest.

I swallow the hurt back down. "He waits for us in the city." Not a lie, not quite. But those will come eventually.

"Our electronics stopped working a few days ago. Why?"

Internally, I shake my head. The rebels should have stopped. They should have known not to march for that exact reason, but they had hope. Hope in Asher. Hope in me. Hope that they would see their families once again. The second they crossed into the queen's realm, their fate was sealed. Even if I fail today, even if they kill me, I have no doubt that she will enthrall them, control them, bring them into the folds of her city.

That is the exact reason I must press on.

"There is something Asher did not tell you," my voice is airy, too quiet to be convincing. I force conviction into the words even as I hate myself for using Asher's deepest secret against him. Stronger, fuller, I continue. "He is the queen's son. He was always immune to her power because he was her heir. And when we killed her, those powers transferred to him. The magic is not gone, not yet."

"He tricked us," the general curses. Weapons click all around me, the subtle shift that means they are ready to fire. My heart sinks just a little. Asher and I were never one of these people, not really. We've only ever had each other.

"No." My voice is sad, hurt. I am not acting at all. "He never meant to hurt you. Asher is going to take his own life. He is going to sacrifice himself. He just wanted to say goodbye first."

I'm not sure if the general is convinced. He makes no move against me. He makes no move at all. Jaw locked, eyes narrowed, he tries to read me. Doubt blazes in his eyes. But the row of guns behind him wobbles. They all want so badly to believe me, to believe that a decade of fighting is finally going to end in victory.

"Do you really think we would be standing here talking if Asher wanted to keep the magic, to reign like his mother?" Disgust burns my throat, sharpens my tone, adds a bite. How can they really think Asher would betray them? After everything he wanted to give up, his own life. Indignation boils my blood. How dare they doubt him. Now more than ever, I'm glad I stopped him, my gentle prince. These people never deserved his sacrifice.

"If Asher wanted to use the magic, you would all be cursed right now, faster than you could blink. But you're not. And inside that city, everything you've ever wanted since the earthquake waits for you." My chiding is working, perhaps because real anger fuels my words, or perhaps because of their own guilt. I'm not sure. But I do know the weapons are starting to lower, that even General Willis is growing soft.

"Please," I add. My voice cracks, breaks. I am no longer thinking of Asher, I am thinking of myself. Of what I will give up to save them. Of what I've already given up. And all of it will be for nothing if I can't convince the rebels to continue on, if I can't convince the queen that I am capable of endless betrayal, that I am just like her.

"Please, don't let him die for nothing. All he wants is to save you all. Please, go into the city, find your loved ones, and make his dying wish come true." Though I say him, I mean me. I don't want to die for nothing. I want to save them all. It is my dying wish that I will see come true.

Sincerity pulses through my words, a force that washes over the rebels, relaxes them. A buzz begins to stir the air, almost palpable, a tingle of excitement. One man folds, stepping out of formation. Hope shines through the tears wetting his eyes.

"Please," I whisper, voice thick with words unspoken. Please forgive me. That is what I want to say, what I can't say.

But they hear something else.
Please believe me
.

The dam breaks.

All around me, men and women abandon their stations, first walking and then running down the street, air whipping my face as they pass by. Stuck immobile in the middle of the human river flowing around me, I remember Asher's words from a few nights before.

Hope can be a beautiful thing. It can guide you through the dark. It can make you feel safe even in the most dangerous of times. But in the wrong hands, in my hands, hope is a weapon, bait to dangle before believing eyes.

I follow slowly after the crowd, no interest in seeing the fire disappear from their eyes. It is only a matter of time before they reach the city, before they realize their families are not free, before the queen pulls them under her control. I meander over concrete, lost in my own thoughts, barely aware when I pass back into the greenery of the park, not paying attention as the wall slips into view.

"Jade," a voice calls.

I turn, surprised. By now I thought the queen's curse would have taken hold, that the rebels would be no more. But a single figure leans like a shadow against a tree, hidden beneath leaves, just shy of stepping into view.

My heart sinks.

I would recognize that voice anywhere, the excitement laced tone, the frenetic nature.

"Maddy," I say, slowly, as though I can't quite believe my eyes.

Before I can move, Maddy jumps into the light, throwing her arms around me, locking me into an enthusiastic hug. My arms hang limp by my side, useless. My body has gone numb, dead.

"What are you doing here?" I whisper. Could the queen have possibly planned this? Have seen it coming? Must I lie to everyone who has ever shown me kindness?

"I was so worried about you and Asher. I mean, totally confident, but still, worried." She leans back, grinning and staring at me, before pulling me back down into a firm embrace. Her fingers clutch too tightly, her arms hold on for a second too long, and I realize there is more than just excitement behind her words. There is fear as well, laced into her voice, bringing her pitch a note too high.

I raise my arms, bringing them around her, trying to ease her fears. Soon she won't be able to feel them anyway. Soon all of that worry will be gone. But so will everything else.

"What's wrong? Why haven't you joined the others inside?"

We separate and Maddy crosses her arms, shrugs, bites her lip. Anxious fingers tap on her bicep and her cheeks twitch with indecision. When I first met Maddy, human contact made me uncomfortable. It was foreign. Unfamiliar. But since then so much has changed, and it is completely natural to reach out, covering her hand with mine, calming her nervous movements.

Our eyes meet.

"I'm just," she starts, pauses, takes a deep breath. "What if he's not…not there? You know? What if he's really gone?"

Maddy doesn't have to say anything else. I know exactly whom she means. Her father. My mouth goes dry. I have no idea what to say, how to ease her pain.

"I know it's stupid, I mean I haven't even seen him in ten years, if he is dead nothing will change, it'll be just like it's been. But—"

Her eyes start to water. In those shimmering pools, I see my reflection and cringe. Soon Maddy will forget her father. He will fade into memory, trapped inside her ice-cold heart, lost. And in the split second before that happens she will know that I am the one who broke her dreams, who stole them away, who in essence killed her father. In her wavering voice, I hear the cries of a thousand people, all cursing my name, all broken by my betrayal.

"But what if he is there?" I finish her sentence. Maddy nods, unable to say the words herself. "There's only one way to find out."

I grab her hand, entwining our fingers, trying to give her all my strength. It works. Her eyes lose their wrinkles and her brows pull apart, no longer scrunched together in a tight knot.

As we walk toward the open front gate of the wall, part of me actually thinks we might find him before the queen lays down her curse, that Maddy will be reunited with him first, that maybe I can do one good thing amidst so much treachery. Maybe then she won't hate me so much when she wakes up and remembers what I've done.

Inside, the streets are crowded. The rebels fill the winding roads, weapons forgotten and replaced with old, broken down photographs. Names are being shouted loudly, over and over, intermixing so it sounds like a jumble of noise. I cannot pull the words apart. But it does not matter because the citizens of Kardenia have not been moved to action. They do not leave their homes. Even if they hear their names, I doubt they will understand what it means, who is shouting for them.

Maddy's hand tightens on mine. Her nails dig into my palms.

For a moment, I think she's spotted her father, somehow, somewhere, a face pressed against the glass or a head poking through a window in curiosity.