Page 11 of Winter Queen
A tear drops on my father's face, and I know what to do. I need to go back, I need to find him and make sure he's safe. And I need to tell my Guardians that I want them to be look at me in the same way my dad looked at my mum, even after twenty years of marriage. I want them to be mine forever. I may not be worthy of them, but I'm going to try everything in my power to heal the gashes I drove between us in the past weeks.
I've been an idiot.
Beira might rule with coldness and little emotion, but I'm not Beira.
She's waning at the same time as the Summer King, Angus, is rising in power. She thinks I don't know, but I've noticed how her energy is less, how she looks a little lost sometimes.
She's getting weaker. Her method isn't working. I need passion to counter Angus and the Morrigan, not cold-hearted detachment from the world and those who love me.
And I certainly don't need sparklies. Maybe it's a good thing that Blaze is gone. Temptation can be an evil little thing, attacking you when you least expect it.
"Librarian?" I call out and carefully put my mother's book back in its place on the shelf.
"Yes, my dear?"
He's suddenly standing behind me, as if he appeared out of thin air. Somehow, that seems likely.
"I'd like to go back, please. I have a lot of unfinished business."
He smiles at me.
"Of course. Are there any other books you'd like to look at while you're here?"
I think about it for a moment. It would be tempting to see what my Guardians think about me. Or I could look at my father's book, but I'm scared to see what may be happening to him just now.
"Can you tell if a person is dead?"
He smiles again. "Your father is still alive, dear. But you already knew that, didn't you, in here..."
He points at his chest.
"Ready?"
I nod.
"Take me home."
Chapter Four
I'm not quite sure what happened. One second, I was in the Library, then standing back in my bathroom, lightning whipping all around me, then soft arms around my waist pulled me into darkness.
Now I'm kneeling on the snow-covered ground, my stomach heaving. Teleporting - or however you call what my mother just did - is not agreeing with me. The pool of vomit in front of me is proof of that.
I wipe my mouth and sit up, looking around. People are standing all over the place, talking in small groups, shooting me suspicious glances. We're in the Palace's main courtyard, so big that you can fit the weekly market in here and still have space. Ice sculptures line the paths, depicting a variety of animals. Most of them are ones you can find on Earth, but there are also unicorns, dragons and some I can't identify.
I struggle to my feet, swaying a little. I expended a lot of energy and feel like going back to bed. But first, I need to find my Guardians. I don't recognise most of the people around me. A few of them look vaguely familiar, probably guards or servants. My mother is nowhere to be seen. She must have dropped me here and then disappeared again. I try and convince myself that she had to rescue other people, but maybe she's mad at me. I would be. I'm furious at myself. I should have my magic under control by now.
I turn, looking in the direction of my sleeping quarters. They can't be seen from this part of the Palace, but there's a plume of smoke visible behind some of the turrets. I hope I didn't destroy too much. It was bad enough burning down half of my parents' home, but now, I seem to have progressed to palaces. Am I going to level cities next?
Just when I'd got used to my magic, it's beginning to scare me again. I feel for my heart cave. My magic is curled up, sleeping innocently as if nothing had happened. What a monster. Sometimes she's cute and does what I want, but it doesn't make up for the times she runs amok and almost kills people.
"Wyn!"
I whirl around, just in time to see Frost running towards me, before his arms pull me close and I don't see anything except for the dark blue shirt my face is smothered against. I breathe in deeply, relaxing when his sea breeze scent fills my lungs. It always reminds me of a walk on the beach on a stormy day.
"Wyn," he whispers, hiding his face in the remaining half of my hair. He presses me hard against his body, so much it almost hurts. His hands are running over my back, not gentle, but claiming, as if he's making sure I'm really there. That I'm still his.
"Frost," I say softly, wiggling a little to let him know that he's making it hard to breathe. As much as I like being hugged, crushing my ribcage isn't on my agenda.
