Page 70 of A Shard of Ice

I trip over something – a rock or a vine. It doesn’t really matter since the end result is the same. I go flying. I put out my arms, bracing for a fall, but Damon catches me just in time, hauling me to my feet.

He holds me against him for a few moments. He’s smiling at me. “You good?”

I nod. “Thanks for the save. You know me; two left feet sometimes.” I force out a laugh.

Damon lets me go and we keep walking.

“It would help if you were looking where you were going, Kyrie,” Thesha tells me. She winks at me when I look over at her. She must have caught me staring at Damon.

My cheeks heat up. I’m sure they’re red like freshly pulled beets.

She giggles.

“His wife bonded with a dragon? I didn’t think it was possible. Humans can’t bond with dragons,” Damon says. They’re talking about Maya, Orion’s wife.

“Not normally, no, but by then, it turned out that she was with child. Carrying a fae child allowed her to keep the bond with her dragon. It gave her the fae blood she needed to complete the bond.” They continue to talk. I listen with half an ear.

This pine forest must have once been quite something. It isn’t anymore, but once, it would have been dense with trees. Now, many are dead or dying. Some still stand, their gnarled branches reaching up. Their roots twist and intertwine beneath our feet. The air here is cooler, laden with the faint scent of decaying leaves.

The trees gradually thin out, giving way to a clearing with a grove of tall, ancient trees. Most are bare, their leaves long gone, but a few of them hang on to life. They have a smattering of white leaves with green veins.

“How beautiful,” I whisper.

“They’re called Pale Guardians,” Damon tells me. “They are supposed to protect all who journey through these parts and are said to be older than these mountains themselves.” He sounds sad and when I look at him, his eyes are clouded. “They used to be something to behold; now, only a few remain. You should have seen them, Kyrie. Their branches were full of those pretty white leaves. And in spring, the most beautiful red flowers. So magnificent it would take your breath away.”

“I can well imagine.”

“I have to find a way to fix it. To bring her down.”

“Amen,” Thesha remarks.

“What was all that about Snow wanting to marry you, Damon?” Xander nudges him.

“She’s lost her mind. The Primus tried to convince me that it would be the right thing to do for my people. He said that I could be a good influence on Snow. Make her see the error of her ways. As if! Even if it were possible, I wouldn’t go anywhere near that crazy female. Cassius can marry her if he feels so strongly about it.”

“I hear you.” Xander nods. “She needs a sword through her heart and not a ring on her finger.”

“To think that she was once like a sister to you,” Thesha says.

“To all of us, but especially to you, Damon.”

My heart pounds at the news. “You knew her well, then?” I keep my voice even. “Queen Snow?”

“Even though she was a princess and in line to take the throne, she was just plain old Snow to us.”

“There was never anything plain about Snow,” Damon says. “Like the Pale Guardians, she was quite beautiful. Her heart was the most beautiful thing about her.”

I feel a twinge of jealousy, but I push it aside. I’m being silly.

“Her father – the human king – died, and Snow was too young to take the crown. His wife – her stepmother – took it upon herself to rule. It was only supposed to be until Snow turned one and twenty. Until she reached adulthood. Except the stepmother, Hecate, liked the power. She liked being the queen. She didn’t want to give it up. Hecate grew more and more hateful and more and more jealous of Snow as time went on.”

“That’s awful,” I say, feeling sorry for her.

“Eventually, Hecate tried to have Snow killed, so she ran,” Xander goes on. “The only place she could think of to seek aid was with the fae who did not fall under her stepmother’s evil rule. Snow came to stay at each of the courts. At first, she moved from court to court, but then she lingered at the Ice Court. You see, she had fallen in love.”

“We’re here,” Damon says as we step out of the forest. Before us lies a small hamlet sprawled out in the shadow of a mountain with peaks of white.

Smoke wafts from several of the chimneys. There are a couple of cows and several sheep grazing in a field and a herd of horses in another field toward the back of the hamlet. Chickens and pigs run around the small houses. Above us, the clouds are rolling in. The air smells of rain.

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