Gathering Frost (Once Upon A Curse Book 1) (23 page)

"Jade."

I look up at the sound of my name.

The queen approaches, smiling wide, eyes warm as her hand stretches for mine. Half of my fingers itch to grasp her, to hold her, to call her Mother. But my right hand, not yet touched by the magic, dips below my skirts, following the line of my leg until it hits cool metal.

The gun. 

I grip the handle, pulling it out of the strap as my pointer finger finds the trigger. Unsteady, I lift the weapon free of hiding. The safety is clicked off as I cock the gun, aiming, getting ready to fire.

"Don't come any closer," I growl, voice shaking just like my arm.

The queen stops.

The smile on her lips falters, twitches, sinking slowly into a frown. Her pale face drains of all color, becoming ghostly white as though a phantom stands before me. The hand she outstretched for an embrace recoils, fingers bending inward, cupped against her chest as her brow knots in confusion.

"Jade?"

In that question, I no longer hear the queen. I no longer see her. Instead, a little girl sprouts before my eyes, blond, sad—lonely just like the prince I have learned to love. Her mother held no love, just like her mother before her, and her mother before her, a long line of lonely royals all using magic to fill the void, not realizing that all it did was push people farther away.

The queen was human once, I know in that moment, in the shake of her voice, the vulnerability of confusion, the hurt of betrayal. And a small part of her still is. Behind the frozen façade rests a woman who wishes for a daughter, who thought perhaps she had finally found one in me. It's the woman Asher believed in, the one capable of hope, maybe even of love. The one he wanted beyond all things to redeem. 

Shoot!

I scream, yelling at my finger to dip a little lower, to pull just a little tighter, to end the queen who stole so much from me. But her blue eyes no longer seem icy. The shade seems sad, isolated, completely alone. An empty sky without even a cloud to call a friend.

My muscles tense.

My entire body begins to shake.

I can do this.

I must do this.

But I hesitate. I wait just one second too long and a knife slashes my wrist, cutting deep, drawing blood. The gun clangs uselessly to the ground as I hiss in pain, turning to see the commander draw his sword back for another swing.

The world comes rushing back full force, color imploding in my eyes as my chest rips bare, exposed.

I failed.

The silver sword gleams as the commander raises it high overhead. I'm going to die.

No.

I step back as memories flood my mind. Every tactic I know, I learned from this man. The tower fades from my eyes. The queen and Asher are gone. The commander and I are alone, surrounded by soft grass, and he looms at least two feet overhead. I'm a girl once more, training in our backyard, learning the art of escape. Over and over, we would play. The commander always approached me the same way, blade high overhead, waiting to snap down, letting gravity add to his strength.

Back then, the weapon was made from wood, but right now, his blade shines with a deadly metal edge. He stops before me. My back has hit the wall, so I have nowhere else to run.

Steady, I hold my breath. Each move must be perfectly timed if I'm to beat him at his own game. So I wait for the secret I discovered as a girl, the little signal the commander never realized he sent out.

There.

His arms hitch, inching back just a little farther, bringing the sword as far back as it will go, and he holds his breath.

I lunge to the side in the same second the commander brings his sword down, wincing as the metal slashes through the air right beside my ear, hissing with anger.

Stumbling in my skirts, I fall, yearning for the freedom of pants as I land hard against the ground. My torso twists as my hands search desperately for the gun.

My fingers clutch the handle and I snap up, meeting the commander's eyes. His face is as recognizable as my own, clearer in my mind than even my mother's. I've looked upon it for ten years and have never seen it so furious, so determined. He creeps forward, raising the sword once more, and two thoughts filter through my brain.

This man raised me. He trained me.

I don't hesitate as I put a bullet in his kneecap.

The commander falls to the ground with a howl. Perhaps in his old world swords were enough, but not in this world. Watching him hold a bloody hand to his wound, I cringe. I always told him to carry a gun, but he never believed he would need one. I'm not sure he really understood how deadly they could be.

I hold my finger over the trigger, unsure, and then drop the weapon.

I came here to kill, but not to kill him.

I can't.

Instead, I kick his sword away and slam the butt of the gun into his head, knocking him out. The commander will live. He'll hate me, but that is a consequence I will happily endure.

Five bullets left.

I stand, turning to the queen, determined to follow through on my fate.

The lonely little girl is gone.

In her place, the haughty queen I promised myself I would kill. Her lips are upturned, her hands clap in the silence, but anger seethes to life, ice blue flames in her eyes.

I raise the gun.

"Well done, Jade," the queen drawls, voice bitter, sharp. "I am not so easily fooled, but it seems you found my weakness."

I remain silent.

I know I should shoot, but I have the irrational desire to hear her out, to see if maybe, just maybe she will say the words I desperately want to hear, the one I promised myself I would forget as soon as Asher whispered them.

But a flame sparks to life in my chest, whispering that maybe somehow, someway, the two of us might be together. That maybe there is another way.

Hope.

That cruel fire.

That weapon no one can fight.

I pause.

"I'm impressed. You are more ruthless than I even guessed—a perfect trait for a queen."

"You would know," I spit. My finger inches tighter on the metal, trigger straining to be set free.

"Yet you can't shoot." The queen shrugs. No fear tightens her face. She is perfectly calm, collected. "I know why."

I swallow, throat dry, as her eyes shift to the side, to her sleeping son. He has not awoken from the spell, has not moved. But his cheeks are alive with color, peach, not the ashen gray of death.

My hope billows, swells wider.

"There is only one reason you would do what you've done, the same silly emotion I wanted to free you from, the most dangerous of them all." The queen sneers, unable to say it, as though the very thought creates a blockage in her throat. "Love."

I release a bullet.

It ricochets off the stone, falling uselessly to the ground.

The queen does not even flinch.

"Love is what freed me from you," I whisper, pulling the trigger tight again. This time I won't miss.

"But it won't be enough to free him," she says softly, eyes still on Asher.

My head explodes with shock. I drop the gun a hint. "What do you mean?"

"Magic has sent my son into a deep sleep, and only magic can wake him."

"How?"

The queen just laughs, looking at me with pity. "My dear Jade, do you really think I would tell you?" 

I wave the gun, threatening, but her expression does not change. Mine morphs, falls, tightens.

"Put that gun down before you do something you might regret," she urges, voice silky as it sinks under my skin, forcing my hand to sink further, to let go of the trigger, to give in.

There is no magic in her words. I am immune. Good old fashion coercion moves me, it is the same method I've been using, the sort that takes a person's hope and twists it into steel.

I glance at Asher.

"I'm sorry," I whisper. And I am. Sorry that though I tried, I could not save him. That despite my efforts, Asher will die. But at least now, he will not do it alone.

The queen misunderstands me, grinning wide, clasping her hands in triumph. Her expression freezes that way as the bullet strikes her temple, sinking in, clearing the life from her eyes. The force throws her backward, into a curtain that crumples, exposing a hidden window.

Queen Deirdre's lifeless body tumbles through, disappearing into the night sky that looks so much like the eyes I will never see again, eyes that I will recognize for the rest of my short life.

I raise the gun to my head.

But before I can shoot, a different bullet strikes, plunging from the inside out. A bomb explodes in my chest, seizing my body, freezing it solid.

The magic.

And I am helpless against it.

An avalanche pulls me under until I am drowning in snow. So cold. I fall knees first to the ground, utterly silent, unable to release the scream trapped in my chest. Pain explodes down my arms and legs. My ribs snap apart, as though opening wide, welcoming, and lightning strikes my heart, zapping my veins. I shake, seizing as pinpricks spread through my body, numbing it, disconnecting my brain.

Electric fire grows underneath my skin, funneling in from the sky, spreading wide. The ice begins to thaw, to melt away, replaced with lava that turns my insides to molten rock. I harden, turn to stone. My chest seals closed, the fire stops, and I hang in a void, not quite in the world but not quite out of it.

All I see are flashes of brilliant light in the dark, bursting overhead, bursting internally. Little explosions tear my organs apart and then replace them with something new, something not wholly human, something that yearns to be set free.

A force is alive inside of me.

The magic, I realize, but it has a will, like a spirit who wishes to escape. My veins are chains, holding it down, holding it captive. Power seeps through my skin, released into the world where it wishes to be, but the essence remains locked in my heart, pounding with each beat, hoping someone besides me might hear it.

But no one can.

My eyes ease open, greeted by the stones in the ceiling above. I sit up, muscles aching.

How much time has passed?

I have no idea. But it could not have been long.

I look around the room. The commander rests immobile in the corner, still unconscious from the blow to his head. Blood pours from the hole in his knee. But it is not the wound that grips my attention, it is the subtle neon glow around his body, putrid yellow mixed with hot lime green, raw pain, raw distress. Inside his chest, a white star gleams, pulsing with a slow beat. His soul or his heart? Or are those one and the same? I'm not sure.

I stand, pulled over by curiosity, by a new instinct blossoming to life. Placing my hand to his cheek, I kneel and suck in a breath. The magic flares to life in my veins, urging me to use it, to let go. The energy under my fingers grows until it stings. I give in.

Emotions flood my system. Pain. Fear. Hurt. Longing. Love. I coerce them into my bloodstream, feeling everything, stealing the sensations from his body. I am warmed by them, made more human by them. The aura surrounding the commander fades away. His eyes lose their crinkle, easing open, calmed despite the wound. He is empty, but his breath comes easier. The star in his chest brightens to a pure white, no longer damped by the colorful array of emotions surrounding his figure.

Easing back onto my heels, I rip his shirt, shredding the cloth to tie a tourniquet around the wound. The commander will be fine, especially now that his panic has been stripped away. But I look away, unable to look at him knowing what I've just done, how similar to the queen I have become.

The spirit inside of me subdues, no longer pulling against me for freedom, but rather content to ride the humanity I have fed it. With the magic under control, reality sinks back in. Memories flood my system.

"Asher!"

I bolt up, revolving until I find his still body on the floor, and then I run to him. A star beams from his heart, strong, almost blinding. But a subtle black shadow surrounds his limbs, seeps into his skin. Death. Decay. Yet his chest rises and falls. Trapped within the gloom, he is alive.

I put a hand to his cheek, but the magic recoils, shrugs back in fear—it will not accept this gift. The power only wants promises of life, and all Asher exudes is mortality. I pull anyway. The darkness does not move except to cling to Asher tighter.

"Come on," I beg, yanking, trying to force the magic into submission. The queen said it would heal him. That magic was the only thing that could cure him.

Did I really think it could be so easy?

I take a different method, shaking his shoulders. "Asher!" I shout, as though I can pull him from this sleep through determination alone. "Wake up!"

No movement crosses his eyes or his lips. His hands fall lifeless to the floor, limp, and his head rolls to the side. I follow the ghostly gaze, eyes slipping across the floor to the gun resting a few feet away, pointed at me, speaking for the prince.

I know what Asher would want me to do. Though he said we would find another way, we both knew the truth. Asher wants the magic released back to the wilds where it belongs. There is only one way to do it. Still, my fingers caress his soft cheek, unprepared to say goodbye, to leave him like this.

I stand, eyes shifting to the window where the queen drew her last breath, mind sinking to the sleepy town below. Self-loathing spews from my gut with each step closer, but I do not stop moving until my palms grip the stones. I lean out, wind billowing against my cheeks, and gasp.

Sky and land mirror each other, each an ebony blanket dusted with stars. Above, the stars are a million miles away. Below, they are all too close, prickling my heart with awareness.

The queen described this to me once, tried to show me. Back then, I didn't fully understand why, but I do now. An entire universe is splayed out before me, sparkling dots connecting into a million constellations, each one centered around me. Their hearts are beacons calling out. The magic inside my limbs answers, pulsing down below to take their troublesome emotions away, leaving them pure, untainted with humanity.

I can live a thousand different lives in the span of one. Everything they experience, I do too. Everything they feel floods my veins. But right now, I only want to find one life, one person who I promised I would not use, but who I must. The only person I trust to do right by Asher's body, to not give up on him after I am gone, to try to nurse him back to health.

Maddy.

As soon as her name enters my thoughts, one star brightens, overtaking the others, and in my head a new awareness springs. I sense her emotions, the confusion bubbling beneath her skin, a sadness. I close my eyes and behind those lids, I see what she sees. Wooden walls, bales of hay, soft black hairs beneath her fingers. She is in a stable, petting a horse slowly, softly.

I tug on the magic.

She stops moving.

I yank again.

Maddy's head lifts.

I steal her thoughts, her emotions, emptying her mind, and bring a new idea to fruition. The castle. Hurry.

When my eyes open, her star is moving swiftly through the streets. Horse hooves echo in my ears, carrying her quickly to me. The magic fizzes, excited to be used, but I form my hands into fists, hating how natural this feels, and release Maddy from my head.

I have a few minutes, fifteen or twenty at the most.

I must be gone by the time she gets here.

The commander still has not woken, leaving Asher and me, for the most part, alone. I sit beside him, lifting his head gently onto my lap, brushing stray hairs off his forehead.

The magic will not disappear from my sight, so I must look beyond it to see the boy I love. Underneath the black shadow that encases him, I find my prince. The soft curves of his face. The straight nose barely dusted with freckles. The light brown lashes that perfectly frame his closed eyes. I yank the gag from his lips and Asher breathes easier, mouth open just slightly, almost inviting.

Leaning down, I brush my lips softly against his. They are warm, but motionless, and I pull away, searching his face once more. For a moment, I allow myself to think he might wake, just like in the stories. But Asher does not move. Does not blink.

My kiss is not enough to save him.

I dip closer to his ear. Though I know the words will not penetrate his slumber, I must say them. We waited too long. I always thought they would be too painful to hear, too painful to say, especially when I knew they would only be temporary. But I whisper them anyway.

"I love you."

My heart feels lighter as soon as I speak. The magic in my chest buzzes, waiting, listening as though it is just as invested in the response as I am.

Silence is all that greets us.

I press on, throat stinging, eyes wet. "I know you didn't want to say goodbye, so maybe this is for the best. When you wake up, everything will be like you always dreamed it would be. Everyone will be free. You'll be their hero, and they'll love you."

A tear drops from my eye, staining his cheek. I wipe it away with my thumb, sniffling the rest back in.

"I don't want you to blame yourself. There was no way you could have stopped me, could have stopped this. I just want you to live, to be happy, to find love. I want to give you everything that you gave me. In the old world, people used to think the dead watched over us. My mother used to tell me that my father was looking down on me, proud of me, keeping me safe. I'm not sure if I believe that, but I do know that if I can, I'll keep my eyes locked on you. I'll protect you."

I lay Asher down, removing the chains from his body, brushing all of the broken bits of chair away from him. I tear the bottom foot of my skirt off, bunching the silk into a pillow, and set his head gently down.

The shadow over his body looks a little grayer, a little less opaque. I pray its because he's getting better. That the magic is somehow doing its job.

I'll never know for sure.

Easing back onto my feet, I grab the gun on my way up. I want to tell him I love him one more time. I want to whisper goodbye. But I can't. A plug blocks my throat, making it difficult to even breathe. My eyes have blurred.

I turn away, facing the window, unable to look at him while I do this. I met Asher at the dangerous end of gun, and as I press the barrel against the side of my head, I realize I will say goodbye the same way.

I don't want to die. Not really. Not if I had a choice. All I've ever wanted is to live, to be free. But I think of all the stars twinkling on the ground below me, souls trapped in the magic coursing through my veins, and I understand what I must do.

I don't fear death.

I fear life, this life I have found myself in. I fear being queen. I fear what will happen to me if I do not let them go, if I put myself first. I fear the way Asher will look at me if he wakes to find me alive, turned into the mother he could not kill. I fear the hatred that would burn in his eyes.

Taking a deep breath, I begin my countdown.

One.

My heart sinks just a little.

Two.

I tighten my fingers on the gun.

Three.

I pull the trigger.