A Heart of Ice Read online

  Gabriel shares a few curt words with the guard; his stony expression returning just as perfectly crafted. He then hands the child over and slowly stands to his full, impressive height, shutting the door before his eyes turn to me. I hold myself up against the wall, my legs numb and my arms worse for wear. But before his gaze finds me, I force myself to straighten, my leg screaming angrily when I put more weight on it, begging me to relinquish it from pain.

  Unfortunately, Gabriel does not seem to be in any rush to end my torment to send me away to my room. He leaves me there, not moving a muscle, standing before the door, as though guarding it from a woman who can barely keep herself standing. He keeps his gaze on me, that penetrating, damnably annoying stare that chills my blood.

  I finally reach my limit where necessity overrides sanity. “What do you want, damnit?” My voice is a low hiss, thrumming in the room while my amber eyes cut up to him, black lashes framing the enlarged pupils that lock on him. I am too tired to be courteous, too proud to beg for my life, and too filled with hatred to show him anything but disdain and contempt.

  He looks away from me, apparently no longer interested in holding my fiery gaze. I would like to say that he was probably intimidated by me, but I highly doubt that anything about my small, weak frame at that moment startled Gabriel. He holds out his hand, palm up, and for a moment, I wonder if he expects me to take it. But he is staring intently down at his palm, and I watch as a thin needle of ice forms, slowly shifting and building into a simple but sharp dagger. Gabriel turns it in his hand, spinning it between his fingers idly and twirling it easily there.

  “What is your name?” His voice is neutral, trudging on the edge of boredom, neither too loud nor too soft. Oh lovely. We have returned to the old threat-of-torture technique. He takes a few steps forward, his white-blue eyes finally coming up to meet mine, and behind the ice mask that he wears, I can see the flicker of pain and fury and a deadly challenge that I am not sure I can win.

  “I have nothing to say to you, Sha’cladav.” I do not even see him move. I am certain that I keep my eyes on him the entire time, watching as he studies the dagger in his hand, as though loftily admiring his own design. But then suddenly, he is upon me, whipping around faster than a flash of fire and slamming the dagger between the stone slabs, right beside my head. The funny thing is that I am either now fully insane or simply much too exhausted to care, because my complaint lies in the fact that a piece of my hair now floats contently to the ground. My breath catches in my throat before sinking back down into my chest and sending my heart thundering inside my ribs. The fear only makes me feel even weaker and more exhausted, but I would like nothing more than to gut the ice prince before me for slackening my honor and damaging my pride.

  “You would be wise to answer me, woman.” His voice is low and mean, a dark thrum against my ear. I can feel his cold breath against my cheek and neck, feel the vibrations of his voice in the sensitive canal of my ear.

  I shrug, my eyes sliding easily from him to the window behind us both, trying to appear aloof and regain whatever dignity I lost, and I have lost a good deal. My voice is clipped but wickedly calm as I answer tartly, “My tutors always did say that I never minded them.” But after I speak, my bad knee buckles beneath me, and I sink about half a length before catching myself. I do not have the strength nor the pain-tolerance to push myself back up again, and instead clench my eyes and wish that Gabriel would just go and leave me in peace. The stone wall is so cold behind me…

  His fist comes flying at me, a movement that I should have, but did not, see building in his arm. Gabriel does not strike me, but his knuckles land so hard against the marble slab beside my head that it cracks like a spider’s web under his thickest knuckle, and his ice blade slips out of the wall and clatters to the ground.

  I pride myself on the fact that I do not scream, but a shrill gasp rips at my lungs, and the confident gleam in his eyes tells me that he knows on some level just how much he frightens me.

  “This is not a game,” he growls.

  I wait a long moment before I answer, “Is it not?” glaring off to the side, not wanting him to see my amber eyes, not wanting him to know the poisonous rage that burns inside of me. I gather enough strength into my arms to plant my palms firmly on Gabriel’s cold chest, feeling him suck in a breath to my fiery touch, and I shove hard to knock him back enough so that at least his fist is not right against the side of my face.

  My legs go out from underneath me, giving in to the pain and the exhaustion. “Hasn’t it been nothing but a game all of these years? A game where the rules are always changing, and the only form of a winner is the one who has sacrificed the most!” I am worn to the core, aching from the inside out. My leg paid its penance for the day, and it is a damn miracle that I am still conscious. After the pain I endured through Heather’s ministrations, I had not thought that I would ever walk again. Gathering my strength, I suck in a breath and scream, “Has it not! Dare tell me, ice prince, that I am wrong!”

  A moment of tense silence passes, filled only by my faint, labored breathing. “You are a fool,” he says simply, turning and picking up the blade. He shakes his head as my gasping slowly settles into a hard but stable rhythm. “You are a fool. Leave. I suggest that you have more to tell me tomorrow if you do not want to die a quite painful and slow death.”

  My knees are trembling when I force myself to stand; the worn muscles throb, and the bones scream and protest against such movements. But I force myself up, my face flushed with rage and embarrassment that I am forced to lean against the wall for my support. I will not allow Gabriel to reduce me to this! I am stronger than this! Dragging slow and steady breaths from my nostrils, I make my way past him and to the door. I can feel the prince’s eyes on my back as I go, but I do not give him the pleasure of acknowledging his presence. My stance is tense and sore, limping on one side with one hand against the wall to keep me from swooning.

  Outside of Gabriel’s study, I take a moment to pause and lean almost completely against the wall, dragging more thorough breaths in and out of my mouth, clenching my eyes. There is a guard there who watches me without looking at me, his back ramrod straight and his grip on the hilt of his sword. With a weak smirk, I allow my mind to toy with the prospect of sending out a little flame just to make him jump. But even that small amount of power would have me face-first on the floor if the effort it takes going back to my room does not already ruin me.

  Dedicating myself to my task, I pull my gaze away from the guard and begin my treacherous journey back to my room. The guard does not touch me, does not offer me assistance. He stays at a distance, but never too far, as though he is connected to me through an invisible rope and cannot go farther than that rope allows but refuses to venture closer. With the door in sight, I lose a little bit of myself into the comfort of knowing that I will soon be within the warmth of my bed, and this ease lands me in a twirling hallway before everything goes black, a faint impression of my head hitting something hard and cold.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Gabriel

  Damn that woman!

  Since the Lady Scarlet left my chambers, I found no peace. When scowling out the window into the pale magnificence of my city gave me no comfort, I found myself pacing back and forth before the window until I caught myself counting and pacing each step in time and rhythm, just to focus my furious thoughts away from that woman and her infernal ways.

  Savages! The Inferno are all savages!

  My rage is boiling at a point I have not felt in ages, and while I relish in the glory of my wrath, in something other than the submission to warring and murder, it does not become a future king. Chelyah, I really am the future king, aren’t I? With an angry growl, I force my feet to still and throw back my head, running my hand through the long, tangled mess and pulling it from the leather strap holding it away. I need to have it cut, or so my father told me, but I do not have the patience.

  Enté. He is my one solace, my one comfort a
nd sanity in this world of madness. He is probably playing in his room with one of his keepers, and if not, someone will know where I can find him. I do not spend as much time with my son as I would like, for he grows so much in so little time! I remember when he was still a babe, new and unlearned to our world. And now, he nearly reaches my hip and learns quickly our language and skills.

  Making up my mind to go and see him, I turn and head for the door, shutting it behind me and taking one look down the hall—just in time to see a curtain of crimson hair flowing down the back of one of my guards, the fierce Scarlet of Inferno slung over his shoulder. Rage boils in me, hot and ugly. Of course she tried to run. Arrogant fool! How far did she really think that she was going to get?

  “Guard!” I call, hands clenching into fists at my side as I storm down the hall to where the guard reaches Scarlet’s door. He turns and takes in my appearance, going impossibly pale. I must look ripe for murder, and quite frankly, I am. I’ve had just about all that I can take from the Lady Scarlet, and I am finished with being kind. “Trouble again, is she?” The guard starts to stammer something, but I cut him off with a look and continue, “I am finished with her trouble. Bind her ankle with a rope to the bedpost or window. Something. Just keep her still for Chelyah’s sake!”

  The guard is considering me with desperate, large eyes, stammering, “B-but, your eminence—”

  “What!” My patience is through and gone. I’ve had it with this woman and her ways, her temper and stubborn arrogance. I’m finished!

  My curt demand seems to make the guard think better for his protest, for he ducks his head and mutters, “N-nothing at all, s-sir. I’ll t-take care of it.”

  With a single nod, I throw one death-worthy glare at the lady and storm off towards the main floor.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Scarlet

  I am not sure what to expect when I wake up from my unconsciousness. Dare I even wonder where I am this time? First in the Crystalice castle; what next? At the bottom of a lake? Groaning, I shift, testing my limbs one by one, all of them stiff and throbbing in protest to movement. I realize quite quickly that I am not on the plush, warm mattress of my bed swaddled in heavy blankets. The stone floor beneath me is cold and unyielding against my sore breasts and aching wound, my stomach imprinted with some of the lines from the dress and the stone floor. The fire is no longer lit, leaving my room doubly cold.

  I am also quite aware of a pressure on my ankle from something wrapped around it. There is no danger near me, so I do not feel the need to bolt up just to have exhaustion send me right back down to the ground, much faster than I would like to go. And so, I test my ankle and find that it will not move, before slowly rolling onto my side and glaring down at where my slender ankle is tied tight to the bedpost. It has just enough slack to allow me to stand, it seems, but not to go very far.

  All at once, the rage comes to me, boiling and seething inside of me like something dark and ugly. “Gabriel Jan’tel!” My shriek rings through the room, high-pitched and filled with venom. I make no effort to mask my fury or the promise of vengeance in my voice. Struggling to stand, I grip the bedpost and pull myself up. The closest thing to me is a delicate vase sitting on the mantel above the hearth. It is a lovely piece, wonderfully crafted and painted with care. I grab the fragile thing and hurl it at the door, watching it shatter noisily. “I know you hear me, you great brute of a creature! Go get your prince! Now!” I scream in frustration, “To the Depths with all of you! Bring me Gabriel! So help me, Chelyah, I shall set this whole place ablaze!”

  I am not with any lack of items to throw and horrible things to shriek before Gabriel is finally produced for me, ducking from an incense burner that lands just a ways from him. He glances back at it before his eyes return to me, taking everything in. The man looks like he was dragged right from a dead sleep, and with that thought, I glance to the windows to find the sky beyond a pitch black, stars sparkling beautifully within its blanket. That would explain the appearance…

  Since my duel and through my capture, I had never thought of Gabriel as anything more than an enemy, a thorn in my side, an obstacle that I would probably one day kill if given the chance. I never considered the way his silver hair seems to be almost a pale blond in the light of the sconce behind him, haloing his head. I always thought it was silver. From my room, there is only darkness, and it falls heavy upon him so that he is a predator lurking in my room, pale blue eyes watching me steadily. I always thought him small for being dwarfed by his great beast of a father, but I can see now that he is anything but. He is much taller and wider than I, built with a frame that is clearly used for battle. In the pale moonlight that does come through my room, I can see a glint of something. Scars, perhaps?

  Startled at my curiosity, my eyes go right to his once more, smoldering with fire. Gabriel stands patiently in my doorway, watching me with his calm and self-assured manner, blue eyes pale and rimmed with flecks of ice. He seems mildly amused, as though he can see my thoughts, and that only makes me angrier. I set my teeth together, forcing my gaze to hold to those damnable eyes before I take his attention to my ankle, giving it an experimental tug before snapping, “What is this meaning of this! Have you lost your wits, you stupid man!”

  Gabriel sighs in a way that seems as though I had pulled him out of his room to ask if I could have another blanket or a candle instead of why in Chelyah’s name I am tied to my bed! “You did this to yourself, La’Heitan. I am going back to bed. We can discuss this in the morning.”

  “How!” I shout when he turns to leave, keeping my voice at a volume and pitch that refuses to be ignored. My ire is rising and rising with this man, and it is very close to being unleashed into something terrible indeed.

  Gabriel finally whirls on me, rage—uncommon to the Crystalice—hardening his eyes. This is not the calm gaze of determination to kill. This is not the cold malice of death. This is anger. Pure and rich and burning hot as a fire. “I offer you life! I offer you decent accommodations and respect! And yet how do you repay me? Malice! Your malevolent tongue and treacherous ways!”

  Anger only boils stronger and faster in my blood, and I protest with a cry, “How have I done such things!”

  “This very night you tried to escape!” he shouts, taking an aggressive step closer. “And now—what?—you would like me to put you up in a nice soft bed, maybe a hot meal for your troubles? Are you mad?”

  I give pause, taking a few breaths and studying Gabriel with confusion. “Escape? When?”

  “Do not play dim-minded, woman,” he snaps, gesturing towards the door where the guards stand, glancing tentatively inside. “I saw you this very evening, slung over the guard’s shoulder as he carried you back.”

  My face goes hot, although whether from anger or embarrassment that he had seen such a display of weakness, I am not sure. “I—I did not run, you bastard! I collapsed in the hall!”

  “Lies!” he cries out, a dagger of ice forming in his hand as he stalks closer, teeth ground together. I am pleased at least that he did not think me weak enough to faint from exhaustion and pain in the hall.

  “You are the liar, Gabriel! You have these delusions in your mind to make yourself hate me!” It is enough to make Gabriel pause, his hard eyes searching mine ruthlessly. Taking a breath, I continue quickly, my voice softening a bit, satirical as I continue, “Why do you want to hate me, Gabriel? Or rather, why do you not already? Are you so soft as to take pity on the enemy? How pathetic.”

  It is enough to start him up again, and he grips the dagger before bounding towards me again. I stand still. To run is useless anyways, and so I poise myself with deceitful grace, awaiting him. When he is close enough, I speak up once more, my voice one of soft…entreat perhaps? “We are not what you think, ice-prince. We are not barbarians.”

  Gabriel stops again, clenching his dagger barely a foot from me and watching me carefully as I speak. My golden eyes lock on his, and we do not look away, the ferocity of my gaze not matchi
ng the soft strum of my voice. “You think that we are cruel, heartless demons with only thoughts of blood and death and savagery—but you are wrong. My people are a proud and loving race. We care deeply for our brothers and our sisters within the clans, and everyone is family to us.” My eyes harden a bit, and I continue, “Your Crystalice smile and coax, but they hide their malevolence and disdain. They show no emotions, nothing that is beyond their control of feelings.”

  “Enough,” Gabriel growls, taking one more step and grabbing my arm in his cold hand. I try not to gasp, but my heart starts pounding again, and my eyes meet with Gabriel’s and do not waver.

  “Sire,” comes the voice of one of the guards, and although I turn my attention to him, Gabriel never takes his furious gaze off of my face, his freezing touch sending surges of pain up my arm. The guard from this evening steps forward, a mixed-blood with light brown hair and blue-violet eyes. “The lady speaks true, milord. I followed her not even half way back to her room, and then she collapsed.”

  Gabriel’s eyes finally slide to the guard, and he watches him for a long moment before the man finally makes a sound, releasing a large gust of air from his chest. For the first time, the guard drops a bit of his rigidness and looks to me, his blue and purple eyes catching mine for the briefest of moments before returning to Gabriel’s. I think that I might have seen a smile, but if so, it was gone before it could be missed.

  “Very well then, Ckai’ten. You may return to your post,” Gabriel answers simply, eyes going back to mine, although I try to focus on the guard, Ckai’ten, rather than my own punisher. He glances back at me, this time for a moment longer, and I notice the strong structure of his face and the heavier set to his form which is more common to Inferno and Flora than the Crystalice or other Ceruleans for that matter. But a moment is all that is allowed before he gives a slight bow and heads out the door, leaving Gabriel and I alone once more.