Chapter 6

Luminesa

She should leave.

Leave and never come back.

Yes, it would mean defeat. Yes, she’d be thrust back into a cruel world which she’d very nearly not survived before, she’d make sure that the Under Goblin did no harm to the inhabitants inside first.

Somehow she’d make certain the children were returned to their families, the male to his herd.

But even as she thought it, her lips twisted into a tight scowl and her heart hammered with fury at her own weakness.

How could she even think it?

How could she ever be expected to return back to human and be happy, be normal again? She watched as a crystal of ice floated down on the gentle breeze.

Tracking its graceful swirls of movement with her eyes, watching as its twelve-pointed crystalline shape moved to settle into the pile of snow gathering high at her feet, disappearing and becoming invisible within its mass.

That’s what she’d be if she failed.

Nothing but clutter on the ground.

Vanished, unimportant.

That gorgeous piece of ice, the only one in existence of its kind, made unimportant the moment it’d settled into the pile.

Who would she be without her ice?

Helpless?

Alone?

Frightened of her own shadow again?

Baatha’s sharp cry pierced the veil of night. She glanced up, and smiled softly, in awe of his natural grace and beauty.

Holding out her arm, she waited for him to land on it. The moment he did her snowy falcon friend rubbed his soft-feathered head against the side of her neck. Sighing deeply, she rubbed her fingers idly down the side of his face.

The sky was full of dancing lights, piercing stars, and silvery-blue clouds pregnant with snow. The air smelled of crisp pine, and frosted berries, and nipped at her nose with its wintery kiss.

“For years Baatha I’ve been alone. Devoid of human, or semi-human interaction, I do not know if I can do this now. How do I even start?”

He screeched, and she looked deeply into his golden-tawny colored eyes. So wise, and full of intelligence. She nodded, having lived with him as her constant companion the past hundred years, she’d learned his language.

Learned what each shrill cry meant as though he’d spoken to her in her own tongue. And just as she knew him, he’d come to know her.

“You are right, I did not think this through.”

His chest feathers ruffled and he bumped his sharp beak into her cheek, then blinked at her twice.

He’d been angry at her earlier for deciding to come on this journey, not able to understand her sudden about face for coming out to the people trapped here.

Honestly, she wasn’t quite sure herself why she’d done it.

It went against everything she was now, and yet...sometimes when the loneliness of her existence became too deep she’d remember the woman she had used to be.

The one who could laugh easily and often.

Who’d been able to tell tales, and make jokes.

The one who’d smile with a heart full of glad tidings. Who’d had a heart for the unfortunate, and the downtrodden. Who’d believed in the general goodliness of the people around her.

The woman she’d been before the night that’d stripped her of her soul and had turned her into a creature as unfeeling and uncaring as the ice she loved so much.

Shaking her head, she watched as a small shower of diamond polished flakes fell off the crown of her head to land at her bare feet.

In that deep darkness she gave voice to the innermost fears of her heart.

“When I saw him, Baatha, I felt again.”

Her whispered words sounded like a ghostly wail on the wind. And for the first time since the genie had given her the power of ice, she shivered. Hugging her arms to her chest, but not from cold.

Rather from some innate knowledge that things were about to change for her. Portentous things. Like she’d come to a fork in the road, one smooth and barren and free of obstacles and another that was choked with weeds and treacherous holes throughout.

And though she knew she should have chosen the cleared path, she also knew that by coming here she’d somehow taken the rickety and dangerous trail.

Mouth dry, and palms actually sweating, she held them up before her, watching as curls of steam wafted off them into the night.

“I sweat.” Her words sounded shocked, strained, and even slightly of fear.

Baatha moved his head toward her first palm, rubbing the side of his face against it, allowing the magicked tears to fall from his eyes and rim her hand in frost once more.

He repeated the same process on the other hand before turning to look back at her with curiosity burning bright in his tawny eyes.

Feeling choked up, Luminesa swallowed hard.

She was feeling things, not just emotionally, but physically as well. Already she was changing. And the thought was terrifying.

Curling her hands tight to her breast, she gazed at the blizzard in front of her without really seeing anything and whispered, “I feel, Baatha. I’m beginning to feel again.”

His sharp cry rang in her ears. A question that demanded an answer. Was it good what she felt? Would this change her forever? Would he lose her?

A single tear slipped from the corner of her eye, crystallizing the moment it landed on her cheek.

“I don’t know,” she whispered honestly, “I just don’t know.”

Luminesa stood on that balcony for hours, watching as the aurora borealis danced here and there.

~*~

Under Goblin

Smiling softly to himself, he made his way up the spiraling staircase, undetected by all within. Not even the queen would find him here, not with the type of dark magick he’d shrouded himself in.

He’d told her there would be no interference from him so long as it hadn’t already pertained to his plans, and he meant that.

Creeping softly into the first room he came to, he stared at the child lying in the bed. The innocent, sweet little face of the miserable little monster. His smile stretched wider, growing sinister and cruel.

Everything was going according to plan.

He’d known that when it came right down to it, the queen might profess to loathing the very sight of humans, but she wasn’t as cold and callous as she liked to think she was.

She had a weakness.

One he’d discovered long ago when he’d caught her surreptitiously helping a stranded child in the woods. She’d not appeared as a woman to the little boy, but she’d guided him with pillars of walking snow out of the labyrinth of woods he’d found himself in.

Keeping the pests and cold away from him. A night in a frozen wood that should have killed him, instead he’d walked out of there into the frantic arms of his parents, alive, well, and hale. And all due to a woman that none would dare believe it could be possible.

From that seemingly insignificant incident a seed of an idea had germinated in his mind. He was many things, cruel, malicious, twisted, but he was also patient. Bidding his time until she’d not suspect him of subterfuge, until he could gather all the resources needed him to finally best the woman who’d become a thorn in his flesh.

Petty though it might be, these lands were his, and he didn’t share. He wanted her gone. Wanted her mortal. Wanted that power stripped of her until she became the very thing she hated.

Human.

Sneering cruelly, he sat on the corner of the bed and called that sliver of spelled looking glass to him. The very one he’d given back to Luminesa.

He’d needed that mirror; it was the key to her ultimate downfall. To anyone else it would have been foolish for him to have given it to her as he had, but he’d known what she would do.

Luminesa had always had a fondness for children. If she’d stayed outside of the enchanted glades all of this would have been moot. He’d never have been able to win.

But the queen had acted exactly as he’d expected. She’d come into this looped dimension Baba had created just for him. She’d come for the children.

A shimmer of magic wafted off the silver now sitting on his lap. Picking it up, he fisted it tight in his hands. Until the sliver was nothing but a pile of fine ash.

“Wake up, child,” he intoned deeply, sending a dark pulse of energy through his words.

Sleepy eyes blinked slowly open.

Grinning, he blew on the ash in his hand, spraying the shards into the child’s eyes who began to shudder and shake.

Tears streamed from out of its eyes, as it rubbed its cheeks violently. But the poison had already been absorbed.

The child began to cry, blinded and terrified.

“Who’s—who’s there?” It asked softly.

He rubbed the pathetic creature’s floppy hair. “There, there, child. All is well now. Nothing but a dream. Go back to sleep.”

His voice hypnotized, soothed. And though the child clearly still felt the lingering effects of the glass, the tiny body shuddered once, twice, and then slowly relaxed as it once more settled its heavy head upon its pillow.

“In the morning”—he whispered to a child now fast asleep—“when you wake, you’ll know what to do. Do not fail me, for if you do, I shall cut out your parents’ livers and eat them for my breakfast.”

The babe shivered and the Goblin licked his lips.

Standing, he turned, walking out the room and shutting the door softly behind him. He roamed the halls after that. Studying and learning the queen as he did so.

She’d taken great pains to make the palace as comfortable for her three houseguests as possible. Though built of ice, there was a relaxed and almost warm atmosphere to it. Hearths that flickered in every room and burning with fire.

There were even servants made of ice marching through the halls, busying themselves with tidying up an already immaculate palace. The animals she held so dear too had their place in the keep, roaming the halls and rooms as freely as he did.

Heavy chandeliers spun of ice and crystals hung from massive icy beams above, lighting every square inch of the place with an ambient blue glow. Snow bees moved in tight little clusters throughout, dropping fat flakes of snow in their wake.

This home of hers was unlike the one she normally lived in, that one was austere, somber, and empty. Only she and her damnable falcon lived in it. There were no servants. No flame. No kitchens smelling of roasted and sizzling foods.

Why had she gone through all the effort? She could easily have afforded to keep the three of them locked up in their separate rooms until the month’s end, but she hadn’t.

Perhaps she was truly lonely—lonelier than even he’d imagined. He smiled.

Licking his front teeth, he continued to walk, stopping only to stare at something now and again before moving on. Aware immediately of another presence lingering in the hall, he turned and followed the astringent scent of horseflesh.

He stopped once he saw the centaur staring forlornly out the window. He did not need to look out to know what the creature spied on.

Luminesa was out there, no doubt communing with her winds of ice and snow. It was a struggle not to laugh uproariously at the sight of the centaur. Everything was going according to plan.

Already the centaur was fulfilling his purpose for being here.

To thaw the queen’s icy heart.

To make her fall in love.

The Goblin hadn’t understood why Baba had sent him for the damnable beast in the beginning, but he understood it now. The look on the male’s face as he watched her, one of utter fascination and budding desire...the Goblin almost choked on his laughter, swallowing it down before the sound betrayed him.

Once it would have infuriated him to see a male chase after her, there’d been a time, long, long in the past when he’d considered Luminesa his. But that time had long since passed. All the Goblin wanted now was his vengeance.

She’d become so besotted by her beast that her thoughts would be divided, she’d be unable to focus on the fact that the key to their release sat literally beneath her nose.

But even if by some quirk of fate she was able to learn where it was, she’d never have the stomach to do what was needed to actually free them.

The Goblin released a happy breath. He was just about to turn when Alador grunted heavily, turning sharp, intelligent eyes in his direction.

He knew he’d see nothing. For he’d turned himself invisible.

“Who’s there?” The beast asked in a deep, rolling voice, hooves clacking on the icy floor as he took a step in his direction.

But he only chuckled, his voice mingling with the howl of the winds outside the walls.

Bored now, the Goblin put his last piece of the plan into play.

Holding out his palm, he blew at the pile of silver that’d suddenly appeared on it. Scattering it through the winds.

This glass was different.

This glass was special.

“Have fun, beast,” he whispered, and then cackled as outside the window red eyes glowed.