Chapter 42

PAST:

She stands poised to take a breath…her hand trembles but just slightly. Her lips part, then suddenly a still comes over the crowd and her twitching body. Stillness. Utter silence. My eyes narrow. She inhales deeply.

When she fills her lungs, I hold my breath, nearly drunk with anticipation. It has been some time since she has performed. But now that the Elf has found her, things are about to be irrevocably changed.

And then, she sings. The note rings out, reverberating from the rafters, filling every pore of every body, tantalizing the senses like a vibration from within. There are simply no words in my language or any other to describe the sensations that ripple through me. Her voice. That voice. So enchanting, it pulls the entire audience under her spell and me right along with them. She captivates me and amazes me, enraptures me.

Logic says I should never have come back. I should leave. Return to my home before she sees me. I stay frozen in place. Transfixed by her. I am drowning in the music of her soul, never to be free of her melody again.

The applause nearly brings down the ceiling. Thunderous clapping, people standing and cheering. She gives a modest bow, then a shy smile, which highlights her pinkened cheeks.

I suck in a breath to steady myself. I have no idea what I might do next, but the urge to go to her is overwhelming. I want to reach out to her before Adrius does. I grab hold of the rail, tightening my grip, furious at my own idiocy. I know I should leave, but the masochist in me refuses. She will never see me the way I want her to see me. She will look at me and forever see something she fears. A monster.

With my rush of anger comes a gust of cold. It blows onto the stage, sweeping past her, tossing loose a few strands of her dark curls. Adrius senses it to, and scowls. What lies will he tell her of my presence?

She lifts her chin, as though sniffing the air. Impossible. No human can smell the scent of a Fey. Not even a half-human. But slowly her head turns in my direction. Our eyes lock, and for a moment, we remain tethered. There is a flash of recognition before her face drains of color. It is too late. I have frightened her. She turns back to face the audience as the applause subsides. Every part of her is shaking now. She takes a step forward, then another and another, until she is perched precariously on the edge of the stage. Her arms wrap around her stomach, her body folds over. And before I can reach her, she collapses on stage, in front of everyone.

I will never erase from my mind the resounding smack of her body hitting the floor.

Once more I swear it is the last time I will ever go to see her.

Once more I realize I will never be able to stay away.

***

Three Days Later:

My eyes peeled open, sticky and thick; it was too hard to focus. My weighted hands scraped frigid, brick walls with every movement. Wherever I was, I knew…it was done. Finally. Despite the chains binding my hands behind my back and the iron shackles clamping my feet together in a bloody mess, it was over.

I was home. My true home. Winter Court. I knew its walls, its smells, its hollow feel. I knew each cold surface coated with frost. It brought such an odd sense of relief. How strange, to find sentiment in a home that brought nothing but misery and suffering.

I would find her. I would make Sylos pay. And whoever had helped him—they too would pay. This was just the beginning. This tempest may have passed. But it was far from over. The deadly Faerie storm that they’d awakened had only just begun—and I would rain down vengeance upon them all before the end.

She turned to the sunlight

And shook her yellow head, And whispered to her neighbor:

"Winter is dead."

-A.A. Milne