Page 13 of Winter Queen
I hate how whiny and insecure I sound, and I hate the tears soaking Frost's shirt even more. I need to be strong - not the ice cold Wyn I was until earlier today, but the normal me, the confident, steadfast Wyn. The Wyn who took on an entire demon army.
"Arc has a theory," Frost says slowly. "He thinks the unicorn's sparklies weakened your barriers, made it harder for you to control your magic. In the past few days, you've not used your powers much, and they've built up, pressing against your barriers like a dammed lake until the pressure got too much."
"Fucking sparklies," I grumble, cursing both the unicorn for giving them to me and myself for requesting them in the first place.
Frost laughs drily. "Yes, fucking sparklies. Once Blaze returns, I'm going to unscrew his horn so he'll never be able to give them to you again."
"Do you think he's gone for good?"
"I don't know. He's disappeared before, but usually he comes back when someone needs him. Well, us, really, I don't think he knows many Guardians. Or Princesses."
"How has he helped you?"
Frost grows silent and his breathing quickens slightly. I can hear his heart thump faster and immediately regret asking that question. I have no right to ask him personal questions after what I did. I need to rebuild some bridges first, I think. Figuring out how much damage I did to our relationship will take some time. Especially with Crispin. Gods, I almost killed him. I'd understand if he'll never forgive me for that. Although of course I want him to. He's mine, my Crispy, my Guardian.
The uncomfortable silence between us is broken by a shout.
"Princess!"
Frost lets go of me and I step back. Tamara is running towards us, her skirt bunched up in her hands so she can run faster.
She doesn't say anything until she's reached us, and even then, she only whispers.
"Her Majesty isn't well. You need to come, now."
* * *
My mother is lyingon her bed, pale and frail looking. She's still in her clothes and boots, as if she didn't have the energy to climb under the covers.
It reminds me of the night when she was almost killed by an assassin using a Summer knife, forged by King Angus. He's the only one strong enough to kill her - or so I thought. Right now, she looks like she's severely ill. On death's door, almost.
"Mother?" I ask carefully, approaching her bed. She opens her eyes, but it seems she's having a hard time keeping them open. Her eyelids are fluttering and her pupils are dilated.
"Wyn," she rasps, her voice nothing like her usual strong, cold alto.
"What happened?" I address Tamara, not wanting my mum to speak.
"She expended too much energy rescuing everyone, and then breaking through the lightning storm to get you out as well." There's no accusation in Tamara's voice, just hard, honest fact. It hurts nonetheless.
"Has a healer been called?" I ask quietly, sitting down on the bed and gently taking my mother's hand. It's cold as always, but her grip is weak.
"There's nothing he can do. She needs time to get her strength back, but now that winter is almost over, it's getting harder for her to use her powers. It could be days, even weeks."
I squeeze my mum's hand tighter. I did this to her. She had to save these people because I put them in danger in the first place.
"Is there nothing I can do? I have magic, can I give her some of it? I'm her daughter, surely we're compatible?"
"This isn't like a blood transfusion," someone says and I whirl around, launching myself at Crispin, clutching him against my chest.
"You're okay!" I half-laugh, half-shout, my emotions all over the place. Then I remember that he might be hurt and quickly step back, checking for injuries. When I can't see any, I use my magic, scanning his body, but it seems that he's fully healed.
"I am," he says tonelessly, and my laughter dies off. He's angry at me. No, not angry, furious. His eyes are blazing, and I take a step back before I can stop myself.
His expression softens slightly before turning all business. He's the healer now, not my Guardian. Not the man I almost killed earlier.
"Your Majesty."
He approaches my mother's bed and takes the hand I was holding before he entered the room. Beira slowly opens her eyes, weakly looking around the room.
