Page 35 of A Bride for the Winter King
Poppy smacks her lips together. “Winter is full of monsters. Imagine what lies out there, in the cold. You know how Faerie is. The more beautiful something looks on the outside, the deadlier it actually is.”
“I thought deadly beauty was a Spring thing,” Rose says.
“Poppy’s right. I’d take a stroll in the Spring jungle any day before I took a peek at what lies beneath all this frost,” I add, deep in thought.
The horses haul the sleighs forward and form a straight line to squeeze through the opening. The doors of the fortress close behind our convoy, and we glide toward the center of the city. I’d imagined Snowhaven to be busy and crowded, but it’s a quaint village—straight from a travel brochure.
Houses nestle together, separated by streets that follow the curve of the exterior wall. Steep, snow-tipped roofs allow formost of the ice to tumble down to the ground, and white smoke clouds over an army of tall stone chimneys, their atypical length meant to protect them from being clogged in a bad snowstorm. The horses stop at the end of the snow path that leads to the center of town.
The smells of firewood, caramel popcorn, and cotton candy embalm the air, and my mouth waters. A ferris wheel gleams in the background, smack in the middle of town square. The whole block has been turned into a typical Winter carnival with booths and games peppered around the main attraction.
The hooded winter coats keep us warm as we leave the safety and comfort of the sleigh, the enchanted clothes meant to protect our bodies, fingers, and cheeks from the bite of winter. I bend down to fashion a small snowball in my hands and marvel at the sensation of the snow crunching between my fingers. I roll my wrists and check my fingertips, but sure enough, my blood vessels are not affected by the cold, like a special oil separates me from the chill.
The glittering lights hanging above the colorful carnival tents and booths shed beautiful patterns over the well-traveled snow covering the ground.
Hundreds of townspeople peruse the displays and coffee shops around the edge of the carnival—perhaps hoping to catch a peek of the brides they saw on television. Hollers and laughter resonate through the air, but none of them breaches the confines of the roped-off area.
I’m a sucker for a good carnival, and my heart hammers. I didn’t think winter could hold so much beauty. Snow back home meant numb fingers, slippery roads, and brown, barren trees.
But, as Poppy had pointed out, Fae beauty can’t be trusted. I’ve hunted many types of beasts, most of them elegant and fantastical, yet the beautiful monster that reigns over these lands is not hunted, but revered.
“Lori! Come on!” Poppy waves me over to her, and I catch up with the group.
Paul is ready with his cameras and microphones, filming our arrival. “Dear brides, welcome to Snowhaven. Now, take a good look at the girls you traveled here with.”
I keep my eyes firmly planted on him, his gleeful smile crawling under my skin.
“Tonight, the king and lovely citizens of Snowhaven will see first-hand how well you can handle a little mischief. Each of you will participate in the activities, and we’ll end with a special treat.”
Sarafina joins her fellow host at the front, her bright smile not quite reaching her eyes. “What do we have in store for them, Paul?”
“While our guests start streaming in, the brides will get in position for the first challenge. Each group of five must now decide who to send to the dunk tank,” Paul says on a chortle, apparently loving the idea of seeing us drenched to the bone. He points at the area behind the ferris wheel where a plank hovers above a rectangular tub of water. “After the plunge, just put your coats back on. They will dry you up and keep you warm.”
The other spring girls all skirt away from me, and I grind my teeth together. “Fine.”
Me and the unlucky contestants who lost their groups’ popularity contest all hustle toward the water tank. Its walls are made of ice, and an endless current stirs the water to keep it from freezing.
A carnival attendant dressed in a blue and silver uniform and a matching bean hat is waiting for us next to the huge red button, and I blaze forward to go first, beating a Red bride to the front of the line by mere seconds.
I might as well get the humiliation over with.
The Fae attendant is tall, but his long, skinny limbs are stuck in the awkwardness of puberty as he motions for me to hang my warm coat on the rack. His round cheeks flush as I do so, his big eyes brimming with curiosity.
I fidget on the wooden stage, not used to being so shamelessly ogled by a stranger. “Hi?”
“Wow. You’re even more beautiful in person,” he whispers. “The mayor is campaigning hard for a Winter bride to win, but I’m rooting for you, Lori.”
He gives me the go ahead to walk to the plank, but I pause. “You’re rooting for me to marry the king?” I ask to make sure, stunned by the implications.
“Yes. You stood up to the king and askedrealquestions. We need a strong queen, one who can beat the odds,” he says quickly, blushing a deeper shade of red before he turns to help the next bride in line.
I clench my jaw to keep my teeth from clanking and sit at the end of the plank. A crowd has formed in front of me, most of the villagers eager to get a first-row look at my memorable plunge. My legs dangle from the edge as I peek at the water. Frost creeps along the rim of the tank, and I swallow hard.
I’m already freezing, so I can’t imagine how it’ll feel down there.
The Red behind me keeps her arms crossed tightly over her chest. She removed her coat, too, but a blood-red silk scarf is still tied over her brows. A sharp edge shines on top of her silver ring, the odd piece of jewelry made to cut through skin. That combined with the Fae drawings branding her face, she looks quite intimidating. Her hand twitches at her side a few times like she wishes she had a blade to run me through.
A Winter bride chats happily with the attendant in the line behind her. Winter Fae don’t feel the cold as we do, so I guessthe exercise is meant to get a good giggle out of the foreigners’ distaste for freezing water.
