Winter Queen

  “He is dead, Chriel. My brother is dead,” Ilyenna said, her voice hard and broken.

  Bratton is Ilyenna’s brother?

  “Ilyenna, you must make a choice now,” Chriel said softly. “Stay and die, or leave and live.”

  Ilyenna looked up, the tears frozen to her white-blue face. “I do not care anymore.”

  “Not caring is choosing to die,” the fairy said desperately.

  Ilyenna rested her forehead on Bratton’s. “Leave me alone.”

  “What of Rone? What of Elice? They will die without your protection.”

  At this, Ilyenna finally lifted her head. A sob caught in her throat. “I’m too weak to carry him.”

  Chriel fluttered forward. “He died a warrior in battle. It is an honorable death.”

  “He died because she burned him to death.”

  Nelay knew who that “she” was. She lowered her swords to her sides.

  The fairy spotted Nelay and jerked back, pointing. “My queen!”

  Ilyenna rose regally and faced Nelay, her wings drooping at her sides like fallen soldiers. “Murderer!”

  Nelay stepped from the char and embers. “You call me murderer? You who have perverted the laws of the Balance?”

  Ilyenna’s eyes were like chips of dark water. “You Raiders are the biggest hypocrites of all.”

  Nelay’s brows rose up, remembering that as the name the Clansmen used for Idarans. The two goddesses glared at each other, but neither moved.

  “You have to kill her,” a voice hissed. “Winter does not forgive.” Nelay didn’t have to look to know it was Siseth, hiding in her dark hair.

  She was right. Ilyenna would never forgive. And neither would Nelay. She lifted her swords and surged forward. Ilyenna’s wings snapped up and she shot into the sky, every pump of her wings an exercise in perfection. Nelay was stronger but less experienced, and soon Ilyenna had outdistanced her.

  After chasing the Winter Queen for what felt like hours, Nelay pulled up alongside the border of winter, somehow knowing she was at the outskirts of her reach. If she went any farther, she would be in Ilyenna’s domain, and she would lose every advantage.

  “How?” Nelay asked Siseth as the fairy caught up to her.

  Panting, Siseth landed on her shoulder. “She created an air current and rode it home. You’ll learn to do it eventually.”

  In the distance, Ilyenna paused and looked back. They were too far away to harm each other, but both made silent promises that ended with the other dead. Not turning away, Nelay slowly retreated until she was far out of range. Then, she whirled around and flew back the way she had come.

  When she arrived in Idara, her powerful wings stirred up a dust storm so thick it would be impossible to breathe, with winds strong enough to scour flesh from bones. Lightning flashed within its choking depths. She drove it toward the retreating army.

  She didn’t pause from one city to the next, but routed them all the way to the sea. Then she turned back, determined to find those hiding and finish them all.

  She wasn’t sure how long she flew, how many hundreds of thousands died, but she finally stopped at the sight of a face. He was young, close to her own age. And he was alive when he should have been dead, like the hundreds of companions around him.

  A name formed on her tongue: Harrow. He had saved her once, at risk to himself. Nelay’s anger cooled, shifting to something like apathy. As the sand and the wind settled, his gaze snagging on her. “Nelay?”

  His face registered shock and then understanding. “Remember what I said, Nelay. Some laws are not meant to be broken. You have to stop before you pull the Balance so far out of alignment that you end up destroying us all.”

  Not answering, she spread her wings and shot to the sky in a flash of heat that left melted glass in her wake. She touched down in Thanjavar, in the temple courtyard. She wasn’t sure why she came here, except that she remembered how important this land and its people had been to the woman she was before, and she was curious about the man whose name had unlocked her memories.

  Certainly the temple and palace were grand for human buildings. The people were nothing, dirty and damaged. They spilled from the temple, their gazes locked on her in equal amounts of fascination, fear, and adoration.

  They dropped to their knees, as they should before a Summer Queen. Nelay glanced up at the fairies lining the palace walls, their eyes trained on her. “Bring me the elice flower. Do it now.”

  Nos shot up and darted away.

  Nelay glided forward, into the temple—her temple. Idarans scattered from her path, as was proper, then bowed as they should.

  It was dark inside. With all the doors shut, her skin glowed, casting light and liquid shadows across hollow, haggard faces within. With a thought, Nelay formed a ball of fire in her hand and tossed it toward the ceiling, where it grew in size until the room was perfectly lit.

  A woman hurried toward her. She wore robes the old Nelay recognized as ceremonial attire. She dropped to her knees, her forehead touching the ground. “I am High Priestess Suka, Goddess. I beg your forgiveness for forcing you into this.”

  Nelay tipped her head to the side. Goddess. Yes. That’s what they call me. She decided it was a fitting title from a mortal. Her lip curled in distain. “Oh, I remember you.” She hoped the woman would reach out to her—a single touch would turn her to cinders. But then Nelay caught sight of the corridor beyond the priestess. Her consort was back there.

  She stepped past the high priestess, who jumped to her feet and hurried after her. “I meant to have the statues of your likeness finished before this day came, Goddess, but the limitations of mortality prevented it. I shall have them done as soon as a new glass smith—”

  Nelay whirled around, her wings flaring beside her. “You dare speak to me? You dare follow after as if I am your equal?”

  The woman dropped to the floor. “Please, I only—”

  Nelay whipped her hand out, and the woman collapsed in a pile of smoking ashes. Then the Summer Queen pivoted and walked away from the mess, her sole thought for her consort.

  The young woman from the courtyard came running. Nelay knew her now. Jezzel, who had been like a sister to the woman Nelay was before. When she saw Nelay, Jezzel’s expression morphed into something like wariness.

  “Where is he?” Nelay asked.

  “Here.” Jezzel gestured the way she’d come.

  Nelay followed and was shown into a priestess’s room. Jezzel came in after her and moved to a corner.

  Rycus lay on the bed, his skin gray and ashen. He stared at Nelay, his eyes red and his lips purple. “Nelay?” He blinked and squinted up at her. “There’s fire under your skin.”

  She knelt beside him, her body arcing over his. She wasn’t sure why she felt the need to protect him. Except that he was hers. And no one else could have him.

  Still, she dared not touch him, afraid she might burn him. “I have defeated the clans.”

  His eyes did not leave hers. “Did you hold on to who you are?”

  She didn’t know how to answer that. It appeared she didn’t need to, for his breath caught in his throat and horror filled his eyes. “No,” he whispered. “After all this, I’ve still lost you.”

  Nelay tipped her head to the side, wondering why it mattered. “I suppose.”

  Rycus closed his eyes. “I can’t feel anything below my neck. I can’t move. I—” His cheeks darkened with shame, and he took another breath. “And I’ve lost her. You have to let me go.” He opened his eyes again to stare at her. “Let me die a man.”

  Nelay’s anger rose, heat pulsing from her skin, her temper even harder to control now. “No. You will not die. I will heal you.”

  “Nelay . . .” he tried again.

  “Silence!” she roared, her wings expanding, blackening everything they touched.

  “Rycus,” Jezzel said from where she was crouched in a corner. “You’re going to get us all killed.”

  Tears slipped from his eyes,
but he remained quiet. Nelay’s anger slowly cooled. She turned as she felt Nos approaching. “This is Lila, my queen.”

  The new fairy had white blossom wings that turned burgundy where they attached to her body. Her eyes were solid yellow. In her hands, she held a flower that looked identical to her wings. With the fairy’s erratic, labored wing beats, Nelay knew the incense was making her ill. Trembling, the fairy held out the flower. “My queen, the elice blossom.”

  Nelay reached out her hand and caught the fairy as she collapsed. Holding her gently, careful of her fragile wings, Nelay plucked one of the flower petals. Then she turned to the bed. “Open your mouth.”

  Rycus stared at her and then at Jezzel, who shot him a pleading look. He opened his mouth and Nelay laid the petal on his tongue. Even as she watched, it dissolved. He closed his mouth.

  “I feel . . .” He didn’t finish as his eyes rolled up in his head and his lids fluttered. Nelay tugged down his tunic and watched as the swelling and bruising around his neck began to fade. His gray skin turned dusky again and the purple faded from his lips. He took a deep breath and let it out, then shifted into a healing sleep.

  Nelay studied this man, wondering at the devotion she’d once held for him. Curious, she reined in her heat, hoping she wouldn’t burn him, and very carefully laid her hand on his head.

  Instantly, her whole body flushed with joy. The seed of her memory blossomed and expanded, filling her with knowledge of the life she had lived, the woman she had been. Perhaps her soul had been burned away, but Nelay could grow a new one. One that loved Rycus. Loved Idara.

  She bent closer to him, pressing her lips against his forehead, a reminder of how many times he’d done that for her. She stood and caught sight of Jezzel in one corner, the skin of her hands blistered and some of her hair melted.

  “Oh, no, not your hair.”

  Jezzel jerked in surprise. “Nelay?”

  Nelay smiled and opened her arms. Jezzel shot into them, sobbing with relief and joy. The new Nelay vowed to love this woman as the old Nelay had.

  “I thought I’d lost you.”

  “Suka—oh, burn it, I killed her!” As well as thousands upon thousands of Clansmen. That should have filled Nelay with horror and self-hate, but it didn’t.

  Jezzel pushed back. “You were terrifying.”

  Nelay felt power surge through her body and knew she was terrifying still. But there was no need for Jezzel to know that.

  “She was right,” Nelay finished softly. “Rycus helped me keep my humanity.” Though perhaps not as firmly as before.

  Nelay plucked one of the petals and held it out for Jezzel, but she waved it away. “The blisters will heal. Some cold water, and the burning will fade—just promise you won’t do that to me again.”

  Nelay made a mental note to mark the position of all her allies before she lost control of her anger again.

  Jezzel looked over Nelay’s shoulder. “How long is he going to sleep?”

  The old Nelay would have stayed by Rycus’s side, waiting for him to wake up. The new Nelay couldn’t see the point. “With as bad as his injuries were, a long time.” She took her friend’s arm and steered her out of the room. “Come. We have much to do.”

  Outside stood a group of people, the healer among them. They watched the Summer Queen in awe and more than a little fear.

  “Nelay, how . . .” Jezzel’s words trailed off.

  But Nelay paced toward the healer, who stepped back until the press of the crowd prevented her from going any farther. Nelay lifted her hand, and the woman flinched as if she expected to be blasted with fire.

  Holding out the flower, Nelay lifted her brows impatiently. “A single petal will completely heal one person.”

  When the woman made no move to take it, Jezzel huffed in frustration, took the flower herself, and pressed it into the woman’s hands.

  The healer wet her lips nervously. “And what if I gave a little bit too many people?”

  Nelay opened her other hand and blew a warm spring breeze into the fairy’s face. She stirred and opened her heavy eyes. Nelay relayed the woman’s question to her. When the fairy had given her answer, she passed out again.

  “The whole petal will save one from death,” Nelay explained. “Steep the petal in a tea, and each drop will heal a degree.”

  The healer pivoted, breaking off petals and ordering people out of her way.

  Nelay strode through the crowd, toward the doors. Like her fairies, she found the indoors insufferable. She needed to feel the wind and sun and earth, see the sky, and smell life. She held her hand toward the light hovering over the pool and balled her fist, extinguishing the fire.

  “Guard the king,” Jezzel told one of the Immortals and took off after Nelay.

  At the doors, Nelay blew again on Lila, who groaned and opened her eyes. She looked around and took a deep breath. Then she opened her wings, bowed deeply, and fluttered away.

  “Tix,” Nelay called. The fairy was at her side in the space of a blink. “Find any winter fairies that might have been left behind. Kill them.”

  The fairy bowed before disappearing.

  Nelay arched her back, and her cramped wings sprung from her body. With a yelp, Jezzel jumped away. “Where are you going?”

  Nelay spread her wings. “To heal the land from the damage Ilyenna has done.”

  Nelay stood on the balcony of her palace, staring out over the gutted city. Smoke still rose in places. Buildings were broken, with empty doorways that reminded her of the people’s hollow eyes. Hundreds of thousands of Idarans had died. And she’d burned their bodies all at once, the smoke from their pyre darkening the sky and turning the sun into a blood-red jewel.

  Maran lay her silk shawl on the banister. “Are you sure you don’t want me to braid your hair, Nelay?”

  “No. I like the feel of the wind through it.” Being inside these buildings was hard for her—it left her feeling heavy and itchy. She longed for the freedom of the sky. For the companionship of her fairies, for she was more like them now than she cared to admit.

  Maran hesitated. The old Nelay knew why. Her bodice was scandalous in its lack of fabric. But her wings stretched from the tip of her shoulder to the middle of her back, and they ripped anything in the way. The new Nelay didn’t care about something as silly as human customs, so Maran had made a collar that attached a panel to her skirt, leaving her back bare.

  “Your husband . . .” Nelay began.

  Maran hesitated. “He survived. But he’s with another woman now.”

  “I’m—I’m sorry.” The sentiment felt foreign on Nelay’s tongue, but she knew it was something that should be said. “Would you like me to punish him for you?” That felt much more natural.

  Maran gave a small smile and shrugged. “Really, I was more upset by Delir’s death. But Bahar . . . he’s lost someone too. He’s a good friend.”

  Nelay was happy for her. Bahar was a good man, something Sedun had never been.

  Maran settled the headdress on Nelay’s head, straightened the jewel on her forehead, and sprang in for a quick hug. “Thank you for teaching me to love myself before all others,” Maran said. Then she backed away, wiping the tears from her face, and left without another word.

  When the woman was gone, Nelay rested her hands on her abdomen. Her powers as Summer Queen allowed her to sense the life growing within her long before any mortal. Soon, she would have a child of her own—a son. Her wings curled protectively around her body. Warm and happy, they tickled and licked at her flesh.

  A shape caught her attention and she whirled around, a branch already forming in her palm. It was Rycus at the doorway, his mouth hanging open. “Nelay?”

  This was why she had stayed. And why she would stay, for as long as she could bear it. Her joy expanded, her wings flaring and stretching. They crowded the enormous room, curving in on the tips. They didn’t burn anything, because she didn’t let them.

  “Is it you? Really you?”

  A s
mile broke across her face. “Most of me, I think.”

  He stepped hesitantly into the room, bracing himself as the wings brushed against him. When nothing happened, he let out a breath of relief. “Why isn’t it hot in here?”

  “Because I don’t want it to be,” Nelay responded.

  He reached toward her wings and then hesitated. “Can I?”

  She wondered what it would feel like. “I won’t let them burn you.”

  He put a hand on one wing, and she felt the same sensation as if he had touched her skin, but more so, for they were sensitive. The fire in them darkened to a deep burgundy, sparks of gold dancing in their depths.

  “It feels like silk, only richer, fuller.” He turned to her, and she could see the fear and hesitancy in his gaze. “How much of you?”

  She turned away from him, suddenly uncertain. “I’m not sure, but I feel different, and I think differently.”

  He stepped forward, looking her over as if searching for some sign of injury. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled something out. She took a step closer. It was the pendant her father had given her. The one she’d crushed. Her breath caught in her throat.

  “So you remember this?”

  Pain and betrayal and anger flashed through her in waves. She struggled to keep her emotions under control before she frightened or harmed Rycus.

  But he wasn’t looking at her and seemed oblivious to the danger. “I took it days ago, planning to fix it as soon as the war was over.” He glanced up at her. “Things can be fixed.”

  She pulled her wings away. “Is that what you think? That I need to be fixed?”

  “They’ve taken so much from you.”

  His words hurt. He wanted the old Nelay back, the one who was burned to ash.

  She touched the phoenix mantle resting on her collar. “They gave me more.”

  Rycus shook his head. “The softness, the innocence—it’s gone.”