Ice Shards - By Yasmine Galenorn Page 0,13
hair had long ago grown back and I kept it ankle length, every night brushing the golden strands a hundred strokes and then braiding it up into long coils. I’d kept a good figure, and Bruce—my leprechaun boyfriend—wanted to marry me and have children.
Which is why I’m here, I thought. Bruce needs to have children to continue his family name. I can’t give him that until I break the curse.
Camille dropped to her knees beside me and pulled me into her arms. “I wish you hadn’t had such a hard life. I wish you’d been able to stay in the temple—but then I wouldn’t know you and that would be my biggest regret.”
“I know,” I said, softly, patting her back. “But truly, the Kuusis were wonderful to me—oh, there were a few I’d rather not have known—but they always treated me as one of their kin. And I will never forget them. I honored them by taking their name.”
“Come—we need to move. It’s too cold to stay still and we have a long way to go.” Howl nodded gruffly, but his eyes were kind.
We started up again, and as we trudged along, the snow began to fall in earnest. Delicate flakes, filling the air like a lacework crisscrossing the path. It fell through the lattice of branches, it fell through the open spots, it fell silently and softly, piling up in gentle layers.
As we walked, a faint whistle echoed through the woodland and then I could hear them—pipes echoing in the distance. A woman’s voice called out, singing in a language I could not recognize, but it haunted me, her song, ricocheting off the trees. While I could not understand the words, I knew she sang of love lost, and trials left undone, and challenges failed.
The song began to work its way into my heart and I could only think, Why go on? Why bother trying? All things were lost in the end, death claimed us all, so why attempt to win? All victory was shallow, and the victors’ bones lay as bleached as the snow around us. Wouldn’t it be easier just to sit here, to listen to the music forever? Wouldn’t it be easier to let go of the past and forget about the future?
Stumbling to my knees, I found myself adrift in a snowbank. Bleakly, I stared up as Camille leaned over me. “Iris? Iris! Shake out of it—you have to stand up. You’ll freeze if you don’t get moving.”
“Loss, it’s all loss,” I told her, wanting to make her understand. The worm had eaten its way into my heart and I could see no more into the future. Everything felt tainted and rotten.
“Wake, wake and dance again, little sister,” Howl said, kneeling beside me. He brushed his hand across my face and I blinked at the warmth. He was so warm, so vibrant.
“How can you be—you are one of the Elemental Lords of Winter . . . You can’t be so warm and alive . . .”
“But I am. I am Aatu also known as Howl, Lord of the Pack, the Great Winter Wolf Spirit. My people live and love under the winter snows, they play and mate and feed and sing to the moon. They mourn the dead but they do not mourn the living. Come, sister, wake and remember your journey. The Singing Spirit has you in her grasp and you must push her away. Plug your ears if you have to, but do not let her seep into your heart and drag you away from us.”
The warmth of his flesh began to pulse against my skin and I took a breath. Sharp, the cold was so sharp, but it jarred me and I shook the snow from my hair. Howl pulled me to my feet and spun me around, laughing. Dizzy, I begged him to stop, but he continued the dance.
As we spun, colors began to twist around us and they turned into a carnival of sight and sound. His laughter infected me and I couldn’t help but return the mirth. And as I laughed, the shell of ice that had formed around my heart shattered and fell away.
When he stopped, holding me tight so I would not fall down, I tried to catch my breath. “Do you understand what happened, Lady Iris? Are you all right?”
I shook my head, unable to speak from the breathless dance.
“The Singing Spirit of the White Forest caught your attention. She must have felt your sorrow and