Winter, White and Wicked - Shannon Dittemore Page 0,120

Island need this war. They need someone fighting for them.”

The ice beneath my feet pitches—no, it’s me. I pitch sideways and Mars catches my elbow.

“Miss Trestman is right, you know. There’s no going back to the way things were before the Shiv Road. There is only this.”

He spreads his arms wide. Rain falls, splashing on the Desolation, but not a single drop touches his coat. I realize I’m drier than I should be as well.

“As long as you live, Winter can be sent from Shiv Island. She never loved you. She never wanted good things for you. She kept you safe and numb so you couldn’t feel the knife she slid between your ribs.”

His words are cruel and exacting but, for the first time, I don’t see Mars as a threat. I don’t see him as a force of nature. I see him as a little boy who wants nothing more than to avenge his mother’s death. And in some ways that’s more dangerous.

“I’ll meet the Paradyian king,” I say.

His arms drop and his face brightens. “Miss Quine—”

I hold up a hand. “But I won’t make any promises about Winter. Maree Vale doomed generations because of a personal vendetta. She was sick, I know, but she was careless. We have to do better.” The determination in my voice surprises me.

“I’ve thought on our dilemma for a very long time, Miss Quine.”

“Three hundred and twenty-five white winters,” I say, remembering Shyne’s story. “You’ve aged well, brother.”

His eyes flash and I know I’m right. The young prince who witnessed Winter’s covenant and the princess born in the Pool of Begynd. We are quite a pair.

“I aged until adulthood and then no more,” he says with a shrug. “As witness to the covenant, I too am trapped by Winter’s curse. Not in the depths of the Desolation, no. But frozen in time nonetheless.”

“This,” I tease. “This, you could have told me.”

“No, Miss Quine,” he says, his imperious tone returned. “You cannot believe the truth about yourself until you’ve killed the lie. Like Winter and Begynd, the two cannot coexist.”

“Winter’s not dead.”

He tips his face to the cracking sky. “No, she’s not. But she’s been reminded of her place. It’s not something you do once. It’s something you must do every time you hear her voice. She must be told who you are and who she most certainly is not.”

I turn his words over in my mind, unsure what to make of them. It’s a miserable way to fight. The same thing again and again.

“They must’ve grown tired of waiting,” Mars says, his gaze on the shore.

Kyn and Lenore trudge toward us, rain smudging their forms, their heads bowed low against the onslaught. The sky is split wide now, Winter releasing a downpour guaranteed to melt all but her deepest frosts.

Like Mars, I don’t feel a drop of it.

She wouldn’t dare. Not now.

Now that all her secrets are laid bare.

CHAPTER 32

There’s no guilt swimming in Kyn’s gut when he and Lenore reach us. He’s chosen pride instead, the grin on his face carving a dimple into his cheek and a divot from my heart. Rain washes over his black curls and stone shoulders, his bare arms crossed and steaming in the cold. He did the one thing I hoped he’d never do and, despite my own apprehension, I realize he had every right. It’s his story as well.

“He told you,” I say, turning my attention to Lenore. I’m not used to feeling shy of her, but I do. It feels like she caught us kissing.

“He did,” she gulps. She’s using her hands to shield her face from the deluge, but the rain is relentless, forcing its way into her nose and mouth.

“Liatha ee frenth,” I whisper, and, with a hiss, ice arches over us, the rain molding itself into a bridge as it falls. It’s not nearly as grand as last night’s display, but it’s sufficient.

“Well made,” Mars says, craning his neck. “Though, perhaps it’s time to expand your Kerce vocabulary, Miss Quine.”

“Good luck with that,” Lenore says.

I pull my jacket off, dry for the most part, and slip it over her shoulders. She drags the sleeve across her face.

“I’m sorry, Sylvi,” she says. “I didn’t know—”

“I didn’t do it for Kyn,” I say, avoiding his stare. “I did it for myself.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I couldn’t stand the thought of losing someone else who . . . who mattered. Not when it was in my power to stop it. So, see? Regardless of what Kyn