Bane of Winter Read online

  I shook my head.

  “That’s right. Trade has frozen up.” She cackled at her own pun. “But our queen was wise. She built underground gardens heated by machines and mirrors using the most advanced magicka, and now we have our own farms. No need to rely on autumn for crops. And in place of the monthly quota of ice we usually send, the queen’s sent a blizzard; shame it will kill their crops too.” She cackled again. “I say she should freeze summer too, but she’s clever, our queen. A frost would kill the bees, and without bees, there would be no Faerie.”

  There were murmurs of agreement among the other staff.

  “Poor bees, not their fault they’re bound to spring and summer,” a slender male fey said.

  The cook clipped him round the ear. “Did I say you could speak, huh? Cut the darn biscuits, you idjit.”

  The fey went back to his work.

  The cook was indeed a fountain of information. “So, there is only one king in Faerie?”

  A confused frown crossed her face, and then she nodded. “King of summer. Golden-haired fool, if you ask me. The Tuatha are a strange bunch, fighting over … over ….”

  “What are they fighting over?”

  She shrugged. “Something the nobility deem important, no doubt, but it’s the Dannan who suffer, the Dannan and the lesser fey.”

  Interesting. Rayne had said that autumn wanted the winter lands, but why? Why would they kill her people? What was this conflict even about? It seemed to be a foggy issue in every mind. And that was what the taint wanted. That was what Oblivion wanted.

  “And the great tree?”

  She continued to knead the dough as if she hadn’t even heard me. “Cook? What of the great tree?”

  “The what? Never ‘eard of it. What them summer folk been feeding you, eh? Have a biscuit.” She held out a plate of what looked like shortbread.

  I took one and bit into the buttery, crumbly goodness.

  She grinned. “Nice, innit?”

  It was delicious, but it couldn’t distract from the fact that as well as being unaware of the winter king’s existence, these fey also seemed to have forgotten the heart of their realm. The great tree was where Morrigan had lived and where she’d made her final stand, and they’d forgotten it.

  But that was how Oblivion wanted it.

  It was still there, in the heart of Faerie, growing, waiting, and these fools killed and bickered and fought each other, feeding Oblivion. There was no more information to be had here. It was time to go.

  Time to find the Raven and fly.

  The cook’s head whipped up, and her flared nostrils twitched. Her eyes narrowed and then flared in panic. “The wolves.” She snatched the biscuit from my fingers. “Go, quick. Before they see you. They have fed on meat, and now they would satiate another hunger. Go.”

  I didn’t need telling twice. I ducked out through the same door I’d entered just as the outer door opened.

  A chilly breeze hit my back and then gloom swallowed me.

  I’d taken a wrong turn somewhere. Maybe a flight of steps I shouldn’t have? Now I was outside, high up on a slender concourse that led to a gray, crumbling tower. The wind was strong up here, tugging at my clothes and slipping under my tunic. I should go back, find my way to my room, and wait for the Raven.

  The memory of the events of the night before heated my skin.

  A low laugh filled my head.

  A repeat performance perhaps.

  “Shut up. Go away.” I touched my neck where his mark had grown warm.

  You don’t mean that. Right now, you need my counsel. I can feel it. You’re frightened, confused, and you want to escape. But what have you found?

  “Enough to know that staying here isn’t worth the danger.”

  And the tower?

  “I don’t know.”

  You were drawn here for a reason.

  He was right. I’d mapped out my journey in my head and still my feet had brought me here, to this unknown part of the keep. A caw filled the air, and the Raven landed on the concourse ahead of me.

  Ah, the winged guide whose tongue I borrowed last night. I bet he savored that taste.

  I grit my teeth and projected two words: fuck off. The curse felt harsh even in my mind, but it did the trick because Berstuk retreated with an amused chuckle.

  The Raven waited warily a few meters away. He’d acquired a new coat, and the tails flapped in the breeze while the jacket hugged his broad chest.

  I squared my shoulders and approached him. “What happened last night wasn’t your fault and it wasn’t mine. It was Berstuk, and we need to put it behind us.”

  His jaw ticked, and his left eye twitched. “Done. Now what is it we have here, hmmm? This tower? Does it hold a secret?”

  Well that had been easy. “I’m not sure, but my gut tells me to investigate.”

  We headed into the crumbling structure and up the worn steps.

  “And how have you spent your morning?” he asked.

  He didn’t need to know about my interlude with the queen. Instead, I filled him in on her conversation with the mirror, omitting the naked parts. I told him about the dark smoke and the voice and Rayne’s ability to control the blizzard. “And then I watched two envoys from autumn being torn to shreds by Rayne’s wolves.”

  He paused on the steps, his expression somber. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

  “It wasn’t the highlight of my day.” My stomach roiled with nausea at the memory. “But I think I made friends with the cook. The woman is a fountain of information, and I’m certain that no one here remembers the winter king or why the courts are in conflict. Rayne believes the autumn queen has been sending assassins to the winter realm.”

  “The elm mark on the gate …”

  “Yes, she mentioned that, but the envoys looked genuinely horrified.”

  “I do believe there is nothing else for us here,” the Raven said as we reached the top of the tower. “We should head to the autumn court and speak to Aurelia. If Rayne has been compromised by the taint, then this court may be under an enchantment.”

  Enchantments and taints and spells, all things out of a story, but not anymore. I was living the story, and my world and Finn and Veles and Nawia all depended on my ability to untangle this web. The weight was heavy on my shoulders, and for a moment, everything felt impossible.

  We’d reached the top of the tower, and the Raven pushed open the door. It swung inward to reveal a dusty, empty room with crumbling brick windows.

  The Raven’s shoulders sagged. “Well. This was pointless, hmmm.”

  But every hair on my body was standing to attention, and a strange buzz had filled my head. I was moving forward toward the center of the room before I could check myself, hands out, chest heating with the power that was growing every day, and then my fingers made contact with a crimson shimmer.

  The Raven let out a low whistle. “Well, well, what do we have here, hmmm?”

  “Something’s hiding.”

  “Yes, Wynter.” His breath was warm on the back of my neck, hands bracketing my waist. “Look and see. Peel it back.”

  My fingers curled into claws, snagging the shimmer, which was a thin gauze of power, and when I pulled, it tore like fabric, allowing us to peer through.

  A cell sat beyond and a bearded male figure was shackled within. He looked up, his stormy eyes fixing on me. “You’re too late.” He held up his arms, and I noted the inky black veins. “There is no stopping it now.”

  The Raven pulled me back to step closer to the rip in the glamour. “Perun?”

  “Hello, Raven.”

  I looked from the figure in the cell to the Raven. “Who is this?”

  “The god of storms,” the Raven said absently. “You’ve been missing for so long.”

  “Taken,” Perun said. “Captured.” He bared his teeth. “And no one came.”

  “No one remembered.”

  “You did.”

  “Yes, but my attention was needed els
ewhere.”

  Perun snorted. “Of course it was. What with? The pretty mortal?” His gaze fixed on me. “Yes. There would have been a time my head would have been turned for a face like that.” His attention grew more focused. “Your eyes … They remind me of someone.”

  “Yes,” the Raven said. “They do, don’t they?”

  Perun cursed softly. “The clever witch. She did this, didn’t she?”

  The Raven nodded. “There is hope.”

  Perun looked down at his arms. “Yes. There is hope.” He pulled himself to his feet. “But you must go. You must leave here now.”

  “Not without you,” the Raven replied.

  He grabbed the bars in a white-knuckled grip. “Yes, without me. The taint is here, and it cannot suspect that hope is rising. It is inside me, although I fight every hour to slow the infection.”

  Wait … He was the god of storms. “The blizzard that terrorizes the autumn court … Did you create it?”

  He bowed his head. “I have little control over my power now that the taint is in my veins. The winter queen has taken the reins. The taint inside her is strong. It rules this court with smoke and shadow, and it will not loosen its grip until the winter king sits on the throne once more. You must free him.”

  “No one remembers him. It’s like he never existed.”

  “Yes,” Perun said. “And if not for the protection of this glamour, I, too, would have forgotten his name, but I remember. I came here long ago to fight the taint alongside the winter king. We were united. We were aware. The shimmer was supposed to protect the mortal realm, and we were ready to fight, to march as one toward the great tree and end Oblivion once and for all while it was vulnerable in Morrigan’s shell. But the night before our march, Alaron woke me in a frenzy and told me to get as far away from the court as possible. He told me that Oblivion was amongst us and we needed to get away. The rest is a haze, but then I remember waking up here with Rayne standing over me. But it wasn’t Rayne who spoke from her mouth, it was Oblivion. It told me that it had claimed the seat of power, and then it touched me.” He raised his hands once more. “Rayne belongs to it now, but she believes her assertion that we were at war, that the other courts have turned against her. She believes what it tells her to.”

  “And Alaron? Where is he?”

  “I believe he got away, and if he did, then he would have gone to the hidden keep. Not even Rayne knows of its existence. You must find him and tell him … Tell him he must return and claim the seat of power. His throne. He must sit on the throne to break the enchantment.” He glanced up. “Someone is coming.”

  The Raven stepped closer. “Tell me, quick.”

  Perun leaned forward and whispered rapidly. The Raven nodded.

  “Go now. Quickly. She comes. I feel her.”

  Rayne? Oh, crud.

  “We will be back for you,” the Raven said. “We will set you free.” And then he was tugging me away from the tear.

  We turned for the door to find it blocked by the tall, imposing figure of the winter queen herself. Her gaze flicked from the tear to the Raven and then down to me. Something akin to sorrow flashed across her face, a softness in her eyes that spoke of loss, but it was fleeting.

  “Oh pet, oh little one, what have you done?” She didn’t move toward me. She remained in the doorway, blocking the only exit from the room.

  The Raven’s arm slipped around my waist, and her attention dropped to the contact.

  Her delicate jaw tensed. “A liar? A spy from summer after all?” She inhaled and exhaled slowly. “A pleasant interlude that must unfortunately end in blood.” A chill swept up my spine as she stepped into the room. “Did my kisses not turn your head, little one? Was the passion in your touch a lie?”

  The Raven’s grip on me tightened.

  I met her gaze levelly. “You’re not yourself, Rayne. Something has a hold of you, a darkness, a taint. Can you feel it? Do you remember?”

  The Raven took a step to the side, taking me with him.

  “The mirror … It was in your mirror.”

  Rayne’s brow furrowed slightly. “The Mirror … whispers …”

  Maybe I could get through to her. Maybe she wasn’t completely lost. “Yes. Yes, it’s controlling you, it—”

  Rayne blinked, and her eye whites bled to black and dark veins rippled over her skin. “Rayne isn’t here right now.” The voice was deep and husky, and it was impossible to tell whether it was male or female. “But this … This is interesting.” The thing looking out of Rayne’s eyes scanned the room. “It seems I have been lax. How did I miss you?” It fixed its obsidian glare on me. It took a step closer. “Come here, mortal.”

  It reached for me, but the Raven yanked me out of reach, and then we were tumbling out of the window into the crisp air. My scream was whisked away by the wind, and then we were falling.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The arms holding me morphed to biting talons and then with a whoosh we were no longer falling. My brain scrambled to catch up to what had happened. A vast shadow loomed overhead, the beat of mammoth wings assaulted my ears, and the cage of bird feet kept me from falling to earth.

  Raven was holding me. He was flying while holding me because he was huge. How was he doing this? A wave of dizziness assaulted me, and the ground below blurred.

  Just a moment longer. His voice in my head was tense. I have to draw from you for just one more moment until we can—

  Thunk.

  Pain lanced through my side, a scream bubbled up my throat, and tears sprang to my eyes as my breath was crushed out of my lungs. The Raven’s grip on me tightened painfully, and we banked to the right, then left, altitude dropping as searing heat spread through my limbs.

  Breathe, Wynter. Breathe.

  There was a tension in his voice that made my gut twist. “Hurts …”

  I know.

  And then the ground was rushing up to meet us. He released me into the soft snow, and then tumbled to the ground beside me in a flurry of feathers and a splash of crimson.

  The pain in my side dulled as I stared at his still form, at the thick, long arrow buried in his ribcage. His pain. It had been his pain I’d felt, and the blood … So much blood.

  I fell to my knees beside him. “What do I do? Raven, what do I do?”

  He grabbed the wooden shaft and snapped it off. “Nothing. Right now we have to move.”

  It was only then that the howls registered. Rayne had sent her wolfmen after us. The Raven pulled himself to his feet, wincing and clutching at his side. His new coat was soaked with blood; the snow was soaked with blood. I ducked under his arm, against his good side, and we began to jog.

  The cold didn’t even register as the heat of urgency flooded my veins. A tree line loomed up ahead. Maybe we could take cover, lose ourselves in the forest, but the forests were the domain of the wild wolves that were on our tail. There was no escape.

  Howls grew louder.

  “Leave me and run,” the Raven said. “They won’t kill me. They’ll take me back to Rayne.”

  “Who will torture you. I can fight them. I can use my power.”

  “And alert them to who you truly are? No.”

  “They can’t tell tales if they’re dead.”

  “Maybe, but I used your reserves to shift and get us out of the tower. You can feel the drain, can’t you? It will take time to recharge.”

  He was right. My limbs felt weaker, my head fuzzy. “I have enough.”

  “It’s too great a risk.”

  “I can’t let her hurt you.”

  “I will survive.”

  My throat grew tight. “But I won’t. I won’t survive knowing you’re in pain, knowing she has you. I won’t make it without you.” My voice cracked.

  He pulled me to a halt a meter from the tree line and turned me to face him. He gripped my face with his cold hands and glared at me in defiance. “You will survive. It’s who you are. It is in your blood. You need no man or beast to exist.”
/>   Tears blurred my vision as I grasped at his hands as if to hold him to me. “I need no man, but I want you, Raven. I want you with me. I don’t want to do this without you.”

  His eyes flared, and he pulled me to him and pressed his cold lips to mine, hard and brief, and then he shoved me toward the tree line. “Run. Head east toward the mountains. The land may shift, but you must keep walking east and the mountains will find you. The hidden keep is in the mountains. Look for the peak that resembles a hawk, and you will find it. Now go.” He pushed me hard, sending me stumbling backward. “You are the realm’s only hope.”

  Hope.

  This was why I was here. Not for any one person but for them all. The need to run to him, to wrap him in my arms, to stand and fight for him was a burning, living force inside me, but if I failed, if I was captured, then all would be lost. I was all that was left of Morrigan, of the power that could defeat Oblivion. I had to live.

  The howls were at his back now, but he stood in the blood-spattered snow, his hand clutching his side, and locked gazes with me. There was so much in that one look, so much hope and longing and promise. It straightened my spine and infused my limbs with conviction.

  Enough to turn and run.

  I ran for a minute solid, and then my heart, my treacherous heart, asserted itself and pulled me to a halt. Leaving him was the logical choice. It was the smart choice in war, it was the choice Morrigan would have made, but it wasn’t my choice.

  I couldn’t leave him behind. I couldn’t allow the taint to have him no matter the risk. I dug deep, feeling the tingle of energy, the wrath that curled inside me.

  “Come on, we can do this.”

  I turned back toward the clearing.

  No. You fool, leave the bird and go.

  Fuck you, Berstuk.

  I broke into a run back toward the Raven, but instinct made me slow to a halt as the trees thinned. Voices drifted into the forest.

  “… shall we do with you?”

  Lyrian’s voice.

  “The queen wants them alive,” Macha said.

  “The queen wants many things. She wanted my cock not too long ago, and then she wanted mortal cunny. I don’t think the queen knows what she wants. But I … I know. I know that this bird and the mortal need to die.”