Cold Queen - K Webster Page 0,1

eyes after a hunt. I’m terrified of them. The thought of running through the snowdrifts after them makes me shudder.

Father, sensing my feelings, scowls at me. “You cannot be weak, my heart. This is our legacy. I count on you in my absence. And if my absence is permanent, your sister will count on you too. Vow to me you will rule this land with a diamond fist.”

A tear leaks out, freezing on my cheek. “I promise, Father.”

He brushes away the frozen tear and smiles. “Trust your instinct. Trust only yourself. Trust in the cold.”

His breath blows out hot air in front of him, but then with a flourish of his hand, he freezes his breath. The gift my father proudly displays isn’t one he passed down to either daughter. For as long as I can remember, I’ve attempted his tricks of the hand to no avail. He offers me the frozen cloud of air. It glistens in the muted daylight. Beautiful to look at. I take it in my gloved palms and admire the tiny white lines decorating the opaque ice.

“Trust in your gift. Deep inside, it lives. One day, you will find it and you will use it. Never be afraid to use it.”

He kisses the top of my head and turns on his heel without another word. I watch tearfully as he climbs into the carriage where my stepmother awaits. Within a week’s time, they’ll be on the coast and sailing to the Easta Waterways—Plyrienne’s homeland—for a visit to her father.

A white blur captures my attention. The Eyes of the White are everywhere. Turning away from the man hidden in white clothing, I watch as my father disappears.

“We shall keep you safe,” a familiar voice says, bright green eyes intently burning into me. I recognize this particular man of Father’s army. Cavon. He is the son of one of my father’s best men, Torridy.

“Many thanks, Cavon,” I tell him smoothly, desperately hoping to keep the sadness from my voice.

A scream of one of The Damned echoes from the distance, making me jolt in terror.

Father’s art slips from my grip and shatters at my feet.

My heart shatters too, because I get the sinking feeling my father isn’t coming back.

Elzira

Ten years later…

I should go to greet them.

Or send Cavon and the Eyes of the White to cut off all their heads.

Unfortunately, I do neither.

Let them come.

Let him come.

When Father and Plyrienne were killed on their travels by nomads, our kingdom was an immediate target. The moment word arrived of their deaths, I was crowned quickly and quietly. Overnight I went from frightened girl to ruling queen. I was no longer a sister to little Yanna, but instead, I became a mother. And just like the white Norta bears, I became fiercely protective over my sister. Claws I didn’t know existed grew and I used them. At fifteen, I sent our army after those nomads to kill them. I had my historians map out their lineage and had each family member of those nomads slaughtered. Generations and generations were wiped out in a matter of days.

When I killed those who harmed my family, I killed the girl inside me. There was no room for her and a queen.

I sit at the window, high in my tower, and watch the Volcs as they march effortlessly through the snow. Black lines cutting through white plains. It pleases my eyes. The longer I remain in this cold castle, the more I crave for visual delights. I’m worried I’m losing my mind to the madness like that of The Damned, because my heart thumps harder and faster in my chest knowing they’re coming. They’ve marched past my army and haven’t shed blood, which means they’re coming to speak to me, not start a war.

Tapping my fingers on the stone ledge, I revel in the sound.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. And tap.

My constant tapping keeps the blood flowing to my fingers. So often they’re numb and an awful blue in color. I crave to wear my gloves, but Yanna says it’ll only worsen my condition. If I don’t let my fingers move, they’ll freeze and fall off.

Will I become one of them?

No.

I am The Punisher of The Damned.

I am not one of them.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. And tap.

Focusing on the perfect V cutting through the snow, I wonder what it is King Bloodsun is coming to speak about. His kingdom, the Souta Volcanoes, is warm and vast. The power of the Souta matches only that of