Page 66 of A Court of Fire and Frost

I’m surprised at how much it hurts my back muscles. It almost seems rude. I veer to the left and try not to panic as the wind shifts in my wings. I am learning that if I trust my instincts, flying comes easily.

Soon, I settle into a rhythm, and my thoughts clear out as easily as emptying a waste bin. Circling back to the camp, I look down at where we stayed the night. There is something so beautiful blooming between us in these moments. When I look at Elva, I know she feels it too.

Cherie was my best friend growing up, and she was the first person I ever fully loved. She is a good sister. But… Elva is different. From the moment I first saw her, she’s entranced me. I’m learning that there are many kinds of love–family, friends, partners–and I am better off knowing so many different variations.

I descend to the ground but don’t shift right away. To my surprise, Elva is in her owl form when I reach the semi-secluded area under a combination of trees and bushes.

It feels odd to see each other like this. The companionable silence we are slowly coming to know flickers to life. I am hyper-aware of each shift of her feet, each ruffle of her feathers. She is acting… anxious.

Confusion washes over me, and I hop over to her and extend my wing around her body. I don’t cover her form, but she shifts closer to me. It is beautiful and sweet. It feels good to seek refuge with each other in this way, even though I know it is time to talk about what happens next.

Perhaps it is odd to stay there as a bird for as long as we do, but there is something intimate about it. Something that solidifies the friendship between us in a way that I had never expected or imagined.

I am the first to shift. I extend my arms to either side, showing off my new ability to keep my clothes.

One moment, she is watching me through a cocked head, and the next, she stands beside me, her hair rustling in the breeze.

I want to reach for her, but I know that the second I touch her, all sense of urgency will fade in the excitement of being next to her. Touching a real-life being instead of a dream.

I break the silence first. “What now?”

Elva lets out a long breath. “I honestly don’t know.”

“Why don’t we start with you telling me precisely what is happening?” I have always gestured with my hands when speaking, and I can’t help how my thumb and index finger come together to emphasize ‘precisely.’

“I am the heir to the Winter Fae throne.”

“So I gathered.”

She glares at me, and I put my hands up in defense. I have to consciously fight myself against making a witty quip.

“Three years ago this month, my wedding was supposed to take place,” she says. “I was engaged to the Crown Prince of the Ice Mer, Henrick. He’s my best friend Helena’s brother. I didn’t want to marry him, and I didn’t want to become queen. So I... left.”

Something like disappointment washes over me. It is ridiculous, and I have no right feeling… jealous? I think that is what it is.

I think what hurts me most is the fact that she had been forced into something.

Unsure of what to say, I wait a few more moments, wondering if I should say something else.

“My mother is... not a good person,” is the next thing Elva says.

I figured as much. Still, it’s jarring to realize that Winter Fae are brutal, even to their own family members. “These people that are coming after you... they’re hers?”

After a moment, Elva nods. “I haven’t been in her territory for years. But now... I’m here, and she wants me back.”

My brows furrow. “Is she the one who took you?”

A bitter laugh escapes Elva. “No. Ironically, that was a completely separate incident. But my mother’s magic is powerful, and she can sense my presence. I’m afraid...”

Her voice trails off, and I brush my hand against hers. “Afraid of what?”

Elva inhales sharply. “I’m afraid that this time, there will be no escaping her. It’s me or her. I know it in my soul.”

I hitch a breath, but Elva keeps going. “Which is why I’m going to kill her.”

Just like that. Treasonous, deadly words slipped from her mouth. I stumble. “You are?”

She nods. “Yes.”

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