Page 1 of Moonmarked

prologue

Not many inVerenthia knew this, but the Ice Queen rarely slept.

Her chambers were carved from moonstone, though most thought it would be frost. Not many were allowed through the doors, and even fewer were allowed to look at her without her veil of ice covering most her face. She was very particular about whom she spent time with, whom she allowed in her company. Even hunger had become a chore—she did it once every three days because of the nuisance that it was to have to go through everything they served her to make sure it was safe to eat.

To most, this would indeed sound like a miserable life.

But the Ice Queen hadn’t always been like this.

The moonstone walls of her chambers remembered a very different version of her, a beautiful woman full of laughter and good spirits, who thought a day gone by without laughter was a day wasted. She thought flowers were sent asthank yousby the stars. She believed hope had far more power than fear.

She had been as full of life then as she was full of misery now.

And it was all because of the prophecy.

The walls sparked with veins of silver that glowed faintly with their own light. Other lights made of raw fae magic trapped in glass were mounted on walls. Tall, arched windows were framed in vines of glass that never wilted, and a great chandelier made of snowflakes was suspended mid-air by a sorcerer spell long ago.

It used to be the queen’s favorite thing to look at before her eyes closed at the end of the day, back then when she slept.

Silken drapes, so pale they looked like melting stars were on the sides of the windows. The queen’s room was full—with mirrors and bookshelves and ordinary things she’d once thought extraordinary. A vase of winter roses, freshly plucked from her gardens sat atop a dresser, but she never looked at them anymore. She noticed the smell, noticed more when it was missing, but she never glanced in their direction now.

Simply because she failed to see the point.

Her bed that she so rarely used was a sculpted canopy of ice-kissed wood, its covers a soft white.

It was…silentin the Ice Queen’s chambers. Everything in there spoke of beauty and…finality. As if time had been paused here long ago.

It made the queen feel stuck in the minutes and hours and days. Especially tonight as she closed her eyes and willed herself not to break yet. Hunger gnawed at her insides worse than the frostfire magic she possessed in abundance.

Tonight was the night she would have to eat.

Such an unpleasant experience.

“Talk to me, Your Majesty,” Vair spoke softly from behind her, watching her standing there in front of the closed windows, looking out at her court.

She had no walls above ground anywhere in her kingdom, only underneath, and most of the Frozen Court was fields and low hills, but she had islands in the Eternal Water, too.

Snow clung to the rooftops and balconies of the buildings like icing sugar. Towers shimmered faintly in the low light, their stone pale. It was always winter in the Frozen Court because the cold was an Ice Fae’s ally.

Far below the queen’s windows, narrow bridges crossed frozen streams, and silver lanterns full of fae magic swayed gently in the cold breeze. Fae walked to and fro—her people, the reason why she lived. Whom she served. The most important thing, she’d always thought—until the prophecy.

“They will be serving me food soon. Make sure it’s safe, Vair,” the queen said, her voice hushed.

But the lynx didn’t leave the room as she’d thought. Instead, he stepped closer, soundlessly, until the queen turned to look at him.

A talking lynx—what a wonder. She was sure most would agree, if they would only be able to hear him. They couldn’t, though. The lynx had been a gift from the sorcerers, merely a figurine carved out of stone until her magic set the spell in motion. It had been such a long time now, possibly a few decades since he came into her life, and the queen couldn’t quite remember whether it had been a peace offering or a warning.

The sorcerer who’d given it to her, long dead, said that Vair would speak only to the Ice Queen, withherown voice, and when she willed it. It would never once lie to her,either. No matter the truth, the lynx would always speak it to the queen.

“I will,” the animal said, his voice identical to that of the queen. “But first, I must know what you’re thinking.”

“What I always think,” said the queen and gave in to the distraction that was the lynx’s appearance. Snow pale fur that shimmered like it had been sprinkled with the dust of crushed diamonds. Large paws and antler-like tuffs on his ears, eyes that were a silvery white almost identical to the color of the queen’s magic.

She could always will the lynx to stop speaking and he would obey, but lately, she never did.

“The prophecy,” Vair said.

The queen nodded, then reached for the pocket of her cloak to pull out her mirror made of silver and diamonds, chockfull of magic.

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