Freeze

My blood froze to ice in my veins when I saw her.

Lorelei.

Lying there broken. Bloodied. Bruised.

I'd kill whoever did this to her. Then I'd slaughter their entire family line. My steps hurried, but I could not reach her quickly enough. She was pale. Weakened from the loss of too much blood, and too much cold, and too little hope. Her light was fading from this world and all others.

"No. No. NO. I will not let you die. I forbid it, do you hear me?" My voice rose as I scooped her into my arms, barely any weight at all, which set my fears even deeper. Live. You must live. Live. For me.

I had to get her help, but I feared there wouldn't be anything left of her to save once I had. My powers were useless against whatever treacherous magic this was, but there was always an undoing. A workaround for nearly all spells, even a curse or hex. Something had to be able to change this, reverse the effects and restore her life. A cure existed—I wanted to believe that. It just meant finding it.

This was my fault. Things of beauty are never meant to be broken. But I did this. I allowed her into my world, into my life, and I broke her. I deserved to suffer the same fate. Worse than her fate. I never intended to be her nightmare, only her savior. And I failed. Vows signed in blood, giving me ownership of something no one deserved…her body and her soul.

Flames ignited from within, consuming her whole, ‘til only her ashes remained. Like a breath of snow and ash they fell gently upon subtle winds—air and shadow carrying both in equal measure to their final resting place. To love someone is to grieve them. For it thrusts you into a black hole—an abyss from which you can never escape.

She was worth fighting for. This time, I would fight for her, until my last breath.

****

I awoke with a sharp gasp, ripples of fear tensing every muscle in my body. It took several breaths to realize it had been a dream. No, not a dream. A dream implies something unreal. Wild imaginings of the mind. This was something else. It was a foreshadowing. A glimpse of what may come to pass. But why was I seeing it? By now she'd be leagues from here, safely back in her own world. There should be no cause for what I'd witnessed. Pain and suffering were not supposed to be her future. I'd rather it was mine.

I pushed off the fur pelts and climbed from of the wilted mattress stuffed with dry leaves. I was grateful to the Dwarf Tilak for allowing me to stay in his home. A hovel really, but shelter nonetheless. I was still being hunted by Queen Mab's armies. I'd deserted her and the marriage agreement I'd entered into, and word would have spread by now. Thankfully, Lorelei was safely back in her world, with the elf Elf Adrius. I could almost hear her chastising me for not using his name. And I knew it well, for we were friends once.

The human world was her home, but it could never be mine. I did not belong there. Each visit was the same as the one before, and it was only her presence that made those visits tolerable.

Humans—you could smell their weaknesses. Their needy desires. Their constant craving for more. Their eternal fear. Like a toxic cloud that hovered over their land. It sickened my stomach with each inward breath. I'd hold it for a moment. Then another. Then gasp for air when I could hold it no longer. Ignoring the stench, I'd searched for her. For her face. Her smile. Her eyes that shone in the dimness of her world. The fear strangely mixed with curiosity when she would set her eyes upon me. And without fail, she’d smile.

No one else would see me but her. I was careful. For to break that code would mean my death. Her father was specific in his orders. "Watch her. Keep her safe. But remain unseen by the humans." But she wasn't human. Not fully. She was part fey, like I was. And from the very first moment I saw her, she stole my heart away.

I shuffled to the wash basin, splashed icy water over my face and dried it on my sleeve. My hand slid across the uneven surface of the mirror. The cracked glass scraped my palm, but I kept it there, watching the blood drip down the surface before it froze to crimson slush.

Leaning in, I stared at the reflection, at the steely eyes glaring back at me. Full of accusation and blame.

I lost her.

No, I didn't lose her. I threw her away.

She was my protégé.

We were never supposed to be together. Never meant to fall in love.

I was careless.

She got hurt.

And now she was gone.

"Don't even think about killing him!"

Lorelei's voice rang as clearly as if her lips were pressed to my ear, whispering the words. No, she’d most likely be shouting them.

I shouldn't kill him. But staring down the bar at the Dwarf refusing to serve me…I admit, the temptation was strong.

I sat in the shadows of a semi-deserted Dwarven pub…my hood tugged over my head to hide my identity. Absurd. Here I was, a member of the Faery Royal line, a Shadow Fey fearsome and feared…hiding from commoners. Was this to be my life now? Masking who I was, in order to run from what I was to become? All of this…because of her.

I was accustomed to being the hunter, not the prey. Standing my ground and cutting down enemies came naturally to me. This was anything but.

I washed a hand over my face. I ought to count my fortunes. Had it not been for the kindness of the Dwarf Tilak, I might have been caught by the Unseelie guards. My mother's guards. The very guards who used to answer to me. The Queen of Air and Darkness was many things, but forgiving was not one of them. I was her only son, in line to inherit the three thrones of Faery with Lorelei by my side, and I thwarted her plans. The only thing waiting for me in the Winter Court was a swift and merciless death.

My name—Zanthiel Númenôrr ayn Tal-Alúmenthôr, one very few dared to speak aloud. I used to be a Faerie Prince of the Unseelie Winter Court. Now I was an exiled prince, and a Knight of the Shadow Court. I held no true allegiance to either court, and until recently I was permitted to live in relative freedom, completing random assignments from King Oberon, also in exile.

Oberon was dismissed from the Winter Court for his relationship with a human woman. That woman was Lorelei's mother. Very few knew they had produced a daughter, and fewer still knew there had been twin daughters. Somehow secrets dead and buried had a way of rising from the grave. They always came back to haunt you. Now Oberon held one daughter prisoner, Venus, the other, Lorelei, was being hunted for high treason, and my freedoms had all but vanished. My mother saw my engagement to Lorelei as a means to more power, and plotted our coronation with a zealous fervor that chilled my bones.

Lorelei was set free, returned safely to her world, and suddenly I was left with two choices. Run and become a fugitive, hunted by my mother's court—or stay and be bound to a future I've never wanted any part of.

Marry the Chosen One.

Rule all three factions of Faery…Winter, Summer, and Shadow.

Become my father.

My fingers drummed the sticky bar. How long did it take to pour ale into a goblet?

I heaved a weighted sigh, eyeing the rain-soaked windowpanes. This was pathetic. I was far too good for this. A grimace tightened my face as I refocused my annoyance on the barkeep—taking in his large, round earring and the silver bar piercing his nose. Huge, round, bulbous thing…his nose, not the piercing. Perfect for sticking into matters that were none of his concern.

Leaning my elbows against the cool stone bar, I fumed in silence. I could just leave, return to my hideaway. But Dwarven taverns were not easy to come by in these parts, and I was in need of an escape. Anything to free my mind of her. Lorelei…the Chosen One. Una Electa. Selected by the capricious gods of fate to save our world and hers from ruin. To this day, she still felt unworthy of the task. She carried around insurmountable guilt, needlessly. What had happened before—the war, the Ice Witch, Octahvia's death, the loss of her grandmother's cafe—none of it was her fault directly, yet I knew she blamed herself for all of it. Falsely believing if she had made different choices, done one thing differently, she could have prevented it. She could not have, none of us could. But what lies before us may be another matter.

I often heard her whispers, even though her lips were not pressed to my ear. Nor would they ever be again. Likely I'd never see her again in this realm. It was a choice, one I'd already come to terms with. She loved the Elf. What more was there to do but see her happy and returned safely to her own world? With him.

My jaw tensed. Would I be able to stay away from her world—to keep my distance? To let her live her human life unencumbered by the mistakes of the past? Our past?

Those were the vexing questions that refused to give me peace, the reason for my visit to The Broken Jug. At least here I could find peace before I made my way back to the Shadow Court. Truthfully, I was in no hurry to return. There was little I could do that wouldn't lead back to thoughts of her, and I needed to not think of her.

The pint of ale I'd ordered should help me forget quite nicely. I glanced upward, squinting into the haze at the Dwarven man behind the bar. If this barkeep ever stops his ceaseless gossiping, and delivers my drink. I stared at him, cold shimmering in the air as he shuffled back to me.

He leaned one elbow against the bar. "'Tisn't every day you see one the likes of you in these parts. So deep into the Wyldes of Nevermore. I'd say you're a good day's travel from anywhere's you'd find suitable to your standards, Lord Zanthiel."

To carry the name of a Fey was a hefty burden, and I was taken aback that he so casually took on the task. Foolish Dwarf. They knew so little of this world outside of their own mundane comings and goings.

He prattled on, stretching my patience thin as he polished glassware and slid various platters of meat and bread down the length of his stone bar. He set his glasses back on their shelf. They still looked as dusty as they had before his efforts.

"I've not bin far from these parts miself. Tho not likely to do so with such unrest in the air. Well, you'll be knowing all 'bout that I'd wager, what with your up-and-comin’ nuptials. I've not laid eyes on your betrothed, but rumor has it she's a pretty one at that. Leavin' her alone to traipse all the way out here seems poor form," he scolded.

So word had spread to even these backwater corners of the Nevermore. How nice.

His voice was grating. Barkeeps. Worse yet, Dwarven barkeeps. They felt they owned the right to discuss things that were none of their concern, in vexing detail. He rambled on, bounding from giving his opinion of my engagement to telling me off for my choices, while I sat there still stone sober. Not smart.

Everything within me told me to just depart. Leave it be. Let things go. But the part of me that could not do that refused to back down. Walk away. That is what Lorelei would want you to do. But she hadn’t been in my world long enough to know the effects of backing down. They were far-reaching and dire. To back down was to concede a loss. And I was not accustomed to losing. Not ever.

"Tho 'tis no concern o' mine why yer here, I'd as soon have a lassie like that glued to my side." He chuckled and screwed up his face in a wink. "If ye catch my meanin'."

My hand itched. One stroke of my blade would cut down this fool spewing such irreproachable nonsense. I stared at him, envisioning the swift slice that would sever his chatter in two. The cold swathing from my blade would freeze his flesh solid, eliminating any bloodshed. I sighed. If only it was merely the blood shedding she took issue with…that would be easy to uphold. Those were attainable goals. But no. She had an issue with death entirely. Taking a life, needlessly, or even when need arose, she could not bear it. I felt the way it traumatized her to her core. And her suffering brought me suffering.

My fingertips pressed on the bar. "Dwarf, all I truly require is the ale. Or a jug of Faerie wine. I'm not picky." I was more than ready to escape this fresh new level of purgatory, to take refuge in Tilak’s dwelling that was now my home. Or perhaps sear the barkeeper's ear with a nip of frost bite. Surely that would not count as bad behavior in her eyes.

"Aye, Lord Zanthiel, 'tis coming up straight away. I sent for the good stuff ye know. Takes a wee bit o' time to haul up from the cellar."

If I vaulted over this counter and retrieved the beverage for myself, I could have had what I asked for in half the time, and with no lives lost.

My hands slid across the bar, freezing the sticky wetness beneath my fingers. I pressed them against the surface, hoping to keep them frozen in place.

"If ye ask me, which ye did not, mind ye. But if ye ask me, I think any good lass, witching Fey or not, ought not to av run off with her former lover."

My forearm twitched, and I raised my voice. "How is that ale coming along?"

Peering into the back room, he replied, "Not much longer, just distillin' into jugs now, m'lord." He bobbed his bearded head, gleefully oblivious to how close he was to losing his life. Or at the very least, his tongue.

"She's a fine specimen that one. Not 'av to close yer eyes in bed with that one, aye?" He chuckled, polishing a silver goblet with a hank of pigskin.

The ice under my fingertips shattered. I reached across the bar and grabbed him by his shift, catching a fistful of wiry hairs, judging from his yelp. I took one breath. And then a second, before tugging him closer. "I'll thank you to stop speaking about her in that manner."

His smirk vanished and his face went ashen.

"I meant no disrespect, Lord Zanthiel, only to say the girl seems not half good enough for the likes of you. Pretty an all, with those child rearing hips, but…"

I snarled. It put an end to his commentary, so I let him go and sat down.

Guilt cooled my anger, but only for the moment. It was still resting inside me, like a creature waiting to leap. One more word about her, and I would freeze his tongue solid.

The Dwarf raised his hands and took a step back—before switching from the subject of Lorelei…to the subject of my mother.

I groaned. This was Adrius's fault, and I could not help the urge I felt to make him suffer right alongside the mouthy Dwarf. Had he not fallen under Venus's spell—better still, had he not fallen out of it—things would not be as they now were. Part of me wanted to look into his traitorous eyes and demand to know why he’d done it. Part of me just wanted him dead.

What Adrius and I needed between us right now was distance. The more of it the better, if he was to survive. Because should I lay eyes upon my former friend again, I could not be held accountable for my actions—not even to her.