Page 71 of Kiss of Frost

“I’ve got you, witchling! Stay down!”

Callum covered my body with his as the icy tempest of the North Wind raged around us with the voice of a thousand hurricanes. Callum lurched to the side suddenly, and he jerked something into us.

“Got you, too,” he gasped, a sob of relief in his voice. I turned my head and locked eyes with Graeme. Saw his tear-streaked face. His beard. His sad, serious eyes and beloved features. He wrapped an arm around Callum, and the three of us huddled on the ground as the North Wind howled its rage.

But its anger wasn’t for us.

As soon as I thought it, the wind rolled itself back. My heart thundered in my ears. For a second, nobody moved. Then Callum lifted off me. His shocked gasp brought my head up, and disbelief and confusion mixed in my chest as I tried to figure out what I was seeing.

A short distance away, a stunningly beautiful woman with long platinum hair sprawled on the ground. Her icy blue gown spread around her. A spiraling, twisting column of snow and blue lightning hovered above her. As I stared at it, the column shifted, forming into dozens of shapes and forms in rapid succession. A tall man with a long, white beard. A snowy faun. A woman with terrible eyes. A small child dressed in brilliant white robes. The column was all things and nothing. It was everything. Timeless and formless and powerful beyond comprehension.

COME, it beckoned, its soundless voice wrapping around me and pulling me to my feet. On either side of me, Callum and Graeme stood too. The three of us looked at each other, then walked to the Oracle.

The woman on the ground gasped as she stared up at us. Her body jerked, and I realized the North Wind was holding her. When her bright blue eyes fixed on me, they narrowed with so much malice, a shiver passed through me.

Graeme made a choking sound. “Circe…”

The woman drew a shuddering breath. “You were supposed to be mine.”

Graeme paled. “What?”

Her mouth tightened. “He never loved you like I did.” She released a short, angry sob. “I’ve waited so long for you. I’ve done so much for us. I captured the ice and the wind! I’ve held the Oracle for over ten centuries while I waited for you to come to your senses. And yet you still refuse to see!”

“What are you…?” Graeme swayed. Then a sudden stillness stole over him. “What did you do for us?” His features darkened, something terrible and dangerous filling his eyes. “What did you do to Hamish?”

“I pushed him,” she said. “I did it for us!”

Graeme growled. “You killed him.”

“No,” she insisted, a pleading look in her eyes. “I only pushed him, Graeme. And then I showed him why he needed to die.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

GRAEME

I stared at the Queen of the Winter Court and tried to wrap my head around what she was telling me.

My heart thudded painfully, but I welcomed it. I wanted to feel.

A warm hand slipped into mine. “Look,” Georgie whispered, gesturing to the spiraling, twisting Oracle.

It glowed a bright, powerful blue…and then a familiar scene appeared.

The South Tower of the White Gate.

“Graeme!” Hamish called out, appearing in the frame.

My gut clenched, and I understood what I was seeing. The North Wind was showing me the past. I was going to watch Hamish die.

Georgie tightened her grip on my hand. On my other side, Callum wrapped his fingers around mine.

“Come out, you arse!” Hamish called again, humor and exasperation in his voice. The midnight sun wove bright fingers through his hair, setting the strands on fire. He walked toward the battlements, leaving a trail of footsteps. Without warning, they shattered, flinging snow and stone into the air.

“What the fuck!” Hamish exclaimed, stumbling back. He recovered and rushed forward.

No. My chest tightened. Horror filled me, and I wanted to squeeze my eyes shut, but I forced myself to keep watching.

Hamish stopped at the edge of the broken battlements and leaned over, his head tipped down as he gazed at the ground. An icicle—long, round, and deadly sharp—appeared out of thin air behind him. An invisible hand plunged it into his back and pitched him violently forward. He bellowed. Twisted.

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