Page 95 of Frost Like Night
I blow out a breath. One thing at a time.
Theron’s face overtakes my memory, the look he gave me in Juli. Eyes vacant of all emotion, save for a possessive, dominating leer.
One thing at a time.
“A united effort,” Sir echoes as he takes my hand. “I’m with you, my queen.”
Mather takes my other hand. The moment the three of us are linked, I funnel all my concentration toward a single destination.
Winter.
28
Meira
LOCATIONS FLY THROUGHmy mind as the familiar tension of the magic drags us into oblivion. The slightest exhaustion pulls at me, the exertion of having to transport multiple people, but adrenaline makes it easy to ignore.
If Angra sent Theron to Jannuari, he’ll be in the biggest symbol of my city—the palace. And the sooner we reach him, the sooner we can get the keys.
I envision the maze of cold stone halls beneath the palace. The corridors toward the northwest corner were the least used, places no one had yet reached in the all too brief time we had to repair our kingdom.
My feet catch on worn cobblestones and I teeter forward. A wall of frigidity smacks me in the face, a drastic drop in temperature, even compared to the Autumn-Winter border. That drop eases my tight knot of worry.
The last time I was in Winter, my magic was a fearful, uncertain ball of power that thrashed against the barriers I put up. Now, it radiates down my every limb, cresting spirals that coil around my nerves and draw energy from the earth itself.
Home,every part of me says, each breath of cold air infusing me with joy.
If I thought my magic was powerful before, being back in Winter makes it feel . . . I can’t even describe it. Invigorated; encouraged;right, the same unnameable sense of belonging that all Winterians feel being anywhere near snow.
My magic’s purpose is to protect this kingdom, and it knows that.
Blackness coats the hall just as thoroughly as the chill, so I only hear Mather stumble back, still not entirely used to traveling this way. I send a blast of magic to them both, clearing their bodies of any ill effects. Sir wastes no time.
“Is he here?” he asks, a quick whisper that points out how quiet it is. No stomping footsteps from above or deeper in the halls; no shouting of orders or clanking of weapons. What did I expect, though? For an army to be lying in wait for us?
Yes. Because an army would be far more manageable than what I suspect Angra has planned—mind games like those he tortured me with in Abril, playing with my deepest fears.
But Sir’s question prods me along. Is Theron even here?
I do exactly what I did to sense Angra: widen my awareness.
The halls around us—no sign of him.
The floor above us—
I jolt with recognition.
Theron is in the ballroom, almost directly overhead.
My magic senses his with frightening clarity. We’re both connected to the Royal Conduits—mine is a stronger connection, but it’s the same as when I sense Angra. Can Theron sense me too? Does Angra’s Decay allow him that firm a grasp of magic?
But even as I wonder that, my magic responds with an answer of its own.
It doesn’t matter what Angra made Theron capable of. It doesn’t even matter whatAngrais capable of. Because here, in Winter, is where I’m most powerful.
I’ve been blocking Angra for weeks now—so I do it again. Only this time, I block my entire city from him, a surge of magic flaring out over Jannuari in a shield. While we’re here, Angra can’t come. We’ll get the keys from Theron without his interference. See howthatworks into Angra’s plans.
Iciness streams from my veins, making me nearly giddy. Everything in me is a flurry of snow and ice and frost, my magic the center of a mighty blizzard that could level all the enemies in this city one by one.
