Page 102 of Frost Like Night
“He’s infected you,” I say, holding back my cry of pain as his grip nearly cracks bone. “But I promised I’d save you—”
“Promised.” Theron’s lips curl. “What other promises have you been making?”
He releases me by flinging me into the closed doors. I smack into the wood and use the momentum to dart away from him, not letting him keep me pinned in the corner. My shoulders scream at the new bruises he left as I stumble deeper into the ballroom.
“Angra is making the world sick,” I try, hands out toward Theron in something like submission. But I ready myself as I take long, slow steps to keep him a few paces away from me.
The act of calling an object to me feels familiar now, and I launch my hand at Theron, hurling my magic at the keys to wrench them from his jacket. Theron sees me move and reacts, jolting his shoulder down and throwing up his hand to block me, a haze of Decay engulfing him in a shield.
“You don’t understand his magic,” he says, his eyes in slits. “You haven’t seen how powerful we are now, how uninhibited. But you will understand—because I’ll make you use it.”
“Theron—”
He rears back as if to punch me, but he’s too far away toconnect—until I note the shadow still engulfing his hand.
He’s going to fight me with the Decay.
I cross my arms in front of me, flinging my magic out to draw snow from the sky—inside. It’s my magic, my kingdom, and I will not be denied winterin Winter.
Clouds form above me, sheets of ice that respond to my call.
But too late.
Just as the first sheet of snow falls toward us, Theron’s shadow barrels through the air and sends me crashing against the floor. I gag, the breath knocked out of me, but Theron is crossing the room, so I leap to my feet, tugging down a wall of ice as he sends another blast of Decay.
“Attack me!” he screams. “This is how Angra said it opened his mind—he used magic forhimself. No one has ever let you do that, have they? Be selfish for once in your life, Meira. Fight me! You’ll feel its power. You’ll see how wrong you were.”
My ice wall reverberates with the force of his blows, forming cracks that I cover with more ice. I can’t stay here forever. I could fight him with magic—it would be defense, so it wouldn’t feed the Decay.
But I don’t want to fight him.
I drop the wall. It sloshes away, coating the floor with water. Theron waits, one hand drawn back in a fist.
I shake my head, letting some of my true exhaustion shine through. “I’m tired of fighting,” I tell him, and it isn’ta lie. “If peace is what you offer, I want it.”
Theron relaxes, lowering his hand. I almost say more, feed into the lie, when he flicks his wrist and every muscle in my body sings out with pain.
He stalks forward, his lips cocked in a half smile.
I can’t move—his magic keeps me pinned upright before him, muscles convulsing so I can’t even wince as he stops, nearly pressed against me. I’ve used my magic only when I have a way to channel it, by pointing or shoving my arm out, and before I can try to use it without moving, Theron tips his head, his smile sending hot panic through me.
“This peace comes with a price—though it isn’t a high price to pay, I assure you.” He leans into me, his lips stopping a finger’s width from mine.
The magic ebbs away from my head, holding the rest of my body firm. He doesn’t kiss me, just stays there, waiting for me to initiate. To accept.
I pull back, just a twitch, enough to put a breath more space between us.
And this one flinch of a response is enough.
Theron knots his fingers around my braid and wrenches my head back so he stares down into my face. “It would be so easy for you,” he spits, half a plea, half a snarl. “Yet you reject meagain. Even when peace is so close—when the salvation of the world is within your grasp.” His face darkens and he ducks to hold his lips by my ear, easing closer, theteasing, gentle movements of a lover. His magic holds me still, my body screaming with the need to fight, the same blinding, consuming panic that overtook me in Herod’s room in Abril.
This is Theron, not Herod—this is Theron, not Herod—
But my heart doesn’t believe that, as it thuds painfully against my ribs.
“It’s the former Winter king, isn’t it? Where have you been all this time, I wonder—with him?” Theron inhales along my cheek. “You reek of him. But you’ve always been mine, from the moment I saved you in Abril—you belong to me, and I’ll remind you of that until you forget what it was like to be touched by him.”
He backs up, all hint of joy gone, and in its place, resolve.
