A Winter Grim and Lonely Read online

  Morren pressed his lips together as he considered this. She knew that he would have greatly enjoyed tormenting Stephan over his victory, and if he was unable to attack Alain then his wish to control all Illesya would be over. But Havenkeep was three times the size of Alain and a worthy prize.

  He leaned out over the balcony, gazing at the courtyard below. A shrill laugh echoed up and Ismena glanced down to see a blonde haired boy sitting in the blooming flowers below. He was surrounded by black birds, even appeared to be playing with them. A woman sat in a nearby bench watching him closely.

  It had to be Prince Cedric, Morren’s only son. He couldn’t be any older than three years old. At the sight of the beautiful blonde haired child, Ismena’s heart jolted. Would she ever have a child that she could look upon with the fondness that she now saw taking over Morren’s otherwise proud exterior?

  The boy laughed again and clapped his hands and one of the birds flew away. As it flapped past them, squawking loudly, Morren turned to her.

  Dead resolve reflected from his coal eyes. He arched a brow. “You wish to turn my men into monsters. How do I know that you are not poisoning them or making them so that I cannot wield them? What can you give me as an assurance that you will not double cross me?”

  Ismena released a breath as she reached into her dress’s pocket. She already knew from her Nytheran Mirror that he would accept nothing else but that. She held it out to him. “This is a Nytheran Mirror. It has been in my family for generations.”

  Morren’s eyes brightened as they filled with desire. He reached his hand out as if to snatch it from her, but stopped last second. He looked up at her. “You will give me a Nytheran Mirror?”

  She nodded once. “As a token of my goodwill.”

  The light from the chandelier above glinted off the glass. She didn’t bother to ask for something in return. She had already asked her mirror if Morren would betray her afterward. He would not. He may be a dark lord, and a trickster, but when he made a bargain he always kept it.

  They had a kinship. She knew that he was only envious of her because she would soon have Stephan and he would never have his wife again.

  Morren stretched out his hands greedily.

  She hesitated one second, torn over the thought of handing over her mirror. This item had been instrumental in her family winning the sorceress wars. It had been the possession of every queen of Alain since then.

  She remembered the day that her mother gave it to her, declaring Ismena her heir.

  “You were named after the very first Queen of Alain,” her mother had said, clutching the mirror until her fingers became white. “Ismena the Great. When the wars finally ended, she stepped forward triumphant, the fairest and therefore the most powerful in the land. No sorceress could stand up against her, those that she had not already killed that was.”

  Her mother’s eyes always lit up when she mentioned the sorceress’s wars. It was as if she wished that she was there. Secretly, Ismena had always thanked every star in the sky that she was born in such a time of peace. She did not find war and bloodshed to her liking. Nor did she believe that she would ever have the strength to do what it took to be the one to come out victorious.

  “Since that day, even if we do not have to steal our beauty anymore, it has always been believed that beauty equals power. Because of those days when only the most powerful were the most beautiful.”

  The queen patted the seat next to her, holding up the silver hand mirror. It was intricately engraved, with a small flower made of blue crystals at its base. “This is a Nytheran Mirror. The last of its kind. It has the ability to answer any question asked. I am going to teach you a rhyme that you shall say to it.”

  Ismena moved hesitantly to the seat and sat down, eyeing her mother. What was this all about? It was only a mirror.

  The queen inhaled deeply and then handed the mirror to Ismena. “You say. ‘Mirror, mirror, in my hand. Who is the fairest in the land?’ You must ask the mirror this every day as every queen before you has. Now you try it,” the queen said with a nod.

  “Have you asked the mirror that question?” Ismena had asked tilting her head and smirked at the thought of asking something so ridiculous of a mirror of all things.

  Her mother had smiled. “I have, and today its reply was that you had grown a hundred times more fair than me.” She reached her hand up and traced it along the side of Ismena’s face. “And I knew that just as my mother before me, and her mother before her, my time was up. It was time for a new queen.”

  Little had she known at the time, what a constant companion that mirror would become. How she would gain such a deep satisfaction from hearing that she alone was the fairest in the land. That was, until the mirror changed its answer. Since then it had only been a painful reminder.

  Ismena thrust her chin out as she placed the mirror in Morren’s outstretched hand. She would not need the mirror anyway. Not when she would finally have Stephan.

  Morren smiled widely as he held up the mirror. He looked as if he was about to laugh, but then he glanced quickly at Ismena. He lowered the mirror, seeming to finally remember himself. “It was a pleasure, My Queen.”

  Ismena felt a cold unfamiliar smile grow across her face. She was one step closer in her plan. One giant leap away from everything she wanted. “Let us bring Havenkeep to its knees.”

  Stephan would regret ever having crossed her.

  Chapter

  Four

  Ismena gazed at the letter in her hand.

  Morren had changed his mind, he would not be traveling to Havenkeep for the birth of the heir. They had agreed that they would both come to the palace and strike that night. He apparently did not want to play at politics, instead would strike from afar.

  She paced across the study, tapping the letter against her palm as she went over the details in her head, trying to make absolutely certain that everything was in order for the attack.

  They had spent months building the army of wights. Morren supplied the men. Starting with the criminals awaiting death, then moving to his own soldiers when he saw how well it worked. How well the wights obeyed their every command.

  After a while, it had begun to grow difficult to find the herbs that she needed to make the wights. Morren had made it illegal for his people to cook certain herbs into their meals.

  And all this took place right under Stephan’s nose. He was so wrapped up in his own blissful existence to even bother to acknowledge her miserable one.

  She sneered, but then quickly schooled her expression when she realized that she was doing it. Morren was a poor influence on her; she seemed to be making that face more and more these days and it was hardly befitting. Not only did it mar her beauty, it also made it harder and harder to hide the black void that had replaced her heart these days.

  Sometimes she thought of what she was doing, considering whether she wanted to go through with this. If she was capable of such an act of murder. Of such wickedness, when she knew deep down in her soul that she was good. Sometimes she wondered if she even wanted Stephan if he had so easily chosen someone over her. She twisted her engagement ring on her finger. She had never taken it off, not once, since that fateful day that she had received that treacherous letter. It served as her daily reminder of everything that she had once had. Of what she could have had.

  Before it was stolen from her.

  She didn’t feel remorse over what she planned to do. Of course she didn’t. Why should she? Stephan deserved to pay for what he had done to her, even if the thought of him experiencing the pain she would inflict tore her nonexistent heart to shreds. But the pain was necessary. The pain was the only way they could ever be brought back together, and while Stephan seemed content to leave her behind, she knew that her life was incomplete without him. And she deserved happiness.

  But sometimes she did wonder if she truly wanted to do it.

  Until she thought of that ice nymph. Then her path was as clear before her as the ice that the ny
mph controlled.

  She smiled. It was the cold smile that she was quickly becoming accustomed to. It had been her constant companion these past months. She would kill the ice nymph. And she would probably enjoy it.

  She knew that these thoughts would have horrified her only a year ago. But after her heart shattered, it did not come back together the same way it had been before. She was a different girl. And now Stephan would live with the creature of grief and vengeance he had created.

  She swept out of her study. Her servants bustled through the halls, preparing for her journey to Havenkeep. She had ordered them to pack her loveliest gowns. She had a feeling that she would be needing them.

  Ismena paused in the grand hall, glancing up at the high arched glass ceiling that allowed in the sparkling sunshine. This palace was her home, as was this land. She wondered if she would ever see it again after today.

  A servant brushed past her, mumbling an apology, but not concerned despite the fact that he had bumped his queen. Her servants felt safe and comfortable with her. She had spent years building up a good relationship with them.

  They had no idea what their queen had planned. But they would soon see. They would all see. Ismena was not someone to be trifled with.

  Chapter

  Five

  The castle of Havenkeep was unfamiliar to her, even though it should have been her home. Ismena craned her neck to take in the impressive towers that seemed to reach up to caress the stars. Carved of white stone, it practically glowed in the night.

  She had spent some time in the Summer Palace of Havenkeep, but that palace paled in comparison to the sheer majesty of the palace found in Havenkeep’s capital Crestrock.

  The palaces of Alain were designed for beauty, with glass walls and waterfalls spurting from them, but they were not overly large. No building in Alain tended to be, best not to draw the attentions of any Wyvern that still resided in the Skalvanian mountains. The fortresses of Mooraven were built for practicality, made of dark stone with thick walls able to withstand a siege. Ismena had thought that Morren’s palace looked evil with its sharp spires and odd structure. But the palace before her was created for the sheer purpose of being grand. It was the largest building she had ever seen, taking up half of the city. She now understood why the nobles of Havenkeep resided in the palace also instead of the city.

  Stephan stood in the open great door waiting for her. The sight of him made her heart leap as she stepped out of her carriage. Just as suddenly as it leaped, it tumbled down crashing into her rib cage as she remembered that he was no longer hers.

  Her eyes drifted to the woman standing next to him. She was nothing more than a will of the wisp, so small that a wind could possibly blow her away. Her dress of ice blue was expertly sewn with many folds, but even that could not hide her bulging belly.

  Dahlia. Ismena didn’t know how to feel, she was finally meeting the phantom she had declared her enemy and was now realizing that she had made a more formidable foe than she could have expected. It was absolutely apparent without even a shadow of a doubt that Dahlia was stunning, the most beautiful creature. Her skin was perfect, snow white with a slight ethereal glow, making Ismena’s sun kissed cheeks look rustic in comparison. Dahlia’s hair was also extremely pale, hanging down her shoulders in silver blue waves.

  It was apparent to every eye that saw her that Dahlia was not of this world.

  Ismena however, looked every bit a human. She was too tired for this and too dusty. She should have stopped by at an inn before arriving here to freshen up if she had been thinking at all.

  But it was too late for such regrets now. Ismena raised her chin as she strode toward the royal couple. She felt like a tottering giant compared to the queen of Havenkeep’s slender form.

  She dropped into a low curtsy, even though it wasn’t required of her since they were of the same station. It made it seem like she had the greatest respect for the king and queen of Havenkeep, but in truth her blood was boiling.

  “When I’d heard that there was a new fairest in the land, I had almost not believed the rumors to be true,” she said as lightly as she could. Her smile felt plastered against her cheeks. “But then I realized that it must be true because who else would be able to steal my Stephan from me?”

  Ismena glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. Stephan at least had the decency to look ashamed. He glanced down and cleared his throat.

  Dahlia smiled, but it was strained as she wrapped her hand around Stephan’s arm in an almost possessive manner. “Ismena, I have heard so much about you, it is a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance. I am so pleased that you were able to make the journey so that you could be present for your goddaughter’s birth.”

  It took all Ismena’s self-control to keep the smile in place. She should not be celebrating the birth of her goddaughter, a poor condolence prize. She should be celebrating the birth of her own child. She tried to imagine what it would be like if it was her standing beside Stephan, glowing and smiling. The fairest in the land and about to birth Havenkeep’s heir. But her fantasy could never get that far because if their places were reversed and she was the one standing at Stephan’s side and Dahlia in front of them, would Stephan remain at her side? A year ago she would have said yes, without a doubt. But now she had no answer.

  Beauty like Dahlia’s was dangerous. For the first time since Ismena’s mother had told her about the Sorceress’s Wars as a young child, she realized that her mother was right. Her ancestors were right. Beauty was power.

  And it was worth waging war over it.

  As they stepped into the passage, Dahlia moved on ahead, saying that she needed to get some rest, leaving her guest behind.

  Stephan fell into place beside Ismena. “It is wonderful to see you again, my old friend,” he said, eyeing her warily as if trying to assess where they actually stood their relationship.

  “And you,” Ismena replied and in that moment her smile was almost genuine because it was wonderful to see Stephan again. She was reminded of every reason why she had fallen in love with him in the first place. The raven haired king was the handsomest man she had ever met, and his eyes shown with an inherent kindness and goodness. She wondered how she could still think that of him when he had destroyed her heart. How could someone who was so kind, hurt her so.

  “I am glad to hear that,” he said, his shoulders slumping in relief a tension she hadn’t noticed before seeping away. “It is just that I feared since you never replied to any of my letters...”

  Ismena held up her hand. “I was busy. There is something I must tell you of Mooraven later, but I did appreciate receiving your letters. I read every one of them.” Multiple times before she finally crumpled them all up and tossed them into the fire, before weeping openly as they cracked and sizzled and became nothing but ash.

  Just like the remains of her heart.

  Stephan’s eyes flicked down to her hand. “I see that you are still wearing the ring I gave you.”

  Ismena followed his gaze to the white gold and sapphire adorning her finger. She should have taken it off, suspicions would be raised now that she had not, but she could not bring herself to do it. “When you sent it to me, you said that I was free to do whatever I liked with it. Well, I wish to wear it so I shall.”

  “Ah,” Stephan said, but his gaze was troubled.

  “You spoke often of your queen in your letters,” she said changing the subject, digging her fingernails into her palm to keep her composure. She felt tears clogging in her throat and she would curse herself to become a wight before she wept before Stephan. She would never show him just what he had the power to do to her. “You must be terribly fond of her.”

  Stephan’s gaze moved to the silhouette of his wife as she slipped further down the hall. He smiled and Ismena stared at him, trying to gauge from his look how he truly felt. If he truly loved Dahlia like Ismena had once believed that he loved her.

  “I have married the most beautiful woman in the land h
ave I not?” he asked his smile growing. His pleasure was wonderful for her to behold that she might have even smiled if not for the pain in her chest. “Our child will be physical perfection.”

  Stephan sighed and glanced at her as if waiting for her response. “Without a doubt,” Ismena said at last. She blinked quickly, thankful for the dim lighting to hide the sheen in her eyes. Any child between her and Stephan would have been beautiful. But that babe could never hold a candle to Dahlia’s offspring.

  Her gaze flicked back to Dahlia’s retreating form and her black thoughts swarmed. Now that she had seen beauty such as that, she knew that she would never be content to simply rid it from the world. She needed that beauty.

  And then she would be able to take everything else from Dahlia. Her husband, her kingdom, and her life.

  Chapter

  Six

  With trembling hands, Ismena opened her chest, it wasn’t very large, only about a foot wide and half a foot tall. The most remarkable aspect of this chest was that it had been dipped into a cauldron holding invisible ink. And now the chest was invisible. Her hands slid across the familiar smooth wood until she found the latch. With a click, the chest opened with a small groan. The interior seemed to appear from thin air as she moved the lid away. A small pocket of red velvet in the middle of everything. Inside the chest was where she kept a few potions she had already brewed as well as ingredients to make others.

  She still had a few hours until the attack. Morren was waiting camped a few leagues away with her army of wights as well as a few of his own trusted men. In a few hours, at the darkest time of the night, he would “lead” the wights into battle.