Wicked Winter Book. 1

❅ Chapter 14 ❅

"Yes, your Majesty," Foster murmured, and bowed again. He glanced back over his shoulder as he left, and his eyes met mine. Something passed between us - an unnerving feeling that set my stomach rolling like a barrel down a steep hill.

His eyes flicked towards the queen, and I read the message within: Be careful.

A cold hand touched my arm, as light as a feather. I turned, and my mother was smiling at me. She was a few inches shorter than me, but she radiated power. It was so powerful it almost made me queasy, but I snuffed out the roiling feeling, smiling back at her.

Her cool, slender fingers slid down my arm and gripped my hand much to my surprise. "Come."

She gently pulled me towards a huge opening in the wall, leading out onto a massive terrace that snaked around the side of the castle. I took the time to take her in, her beauty and grace. Pain still throbbed in my leg, but I ignored it. I was actually more scared of what I would see if I lifted my ripped gown to get a peek of the torn skin beneath.

She seemed to be made out of liquid smoke, floating over the ground with fluid elegance. She wore a dress much like my own, made of sparkling silver gems that twinkled and winked in the limited sunlight. It had long sleeves and a turtleneck, complimenting her slender appendages. The queen seemed to be delicate, breakable even, but something in her metallic gaze told me differently. She had old eyes. When she pinned you in her knowing stare, it was almost as if you could feel the weight of time setting on your chest - a suffocating immortality that was somehow trapped within this exquisite woman's gaze.

Stopping at the edge and placing her hands on the railing, she looked out at the frozen tundra longingly. She patted a place beside her, "Come."

Tentatively I limped towards her, standing next to her on the terrace. This was my mother, I tried to chant in my mind. I was finally standing next to my mother. The world threatened to sway.

"I've been waiting to meet you for a long time," she whispered as she stared out at the mountains in the distance. I could see the landscape reflected in her eyes. She turned towards me, reaching an hand up and cupping my face. Her touch was cool, almost as cold as the snow billowing in puffs around us. "You have your father's eyes, you know. And his hair." Reaching out, she plucked a white strand from behind my ear and began rubbing it between her fingers.

"My father?" I breathed.

She looked up at me, offering a sad smile. "Yes. Your father was very handsome, but I haven't seen him in years. Though I suppose he's doing just fine."

I couldn't help myself. I knew he wasn't fae, so why would a faerie queen want to lay with a human? "Who was he?"

Her smile dropped. "That is none of your concern, Neva."

It was strange, having someone call me my real name, but it sounded right coming from her. And it made so much more sense, coming from her lips. Before I felt as if my name had no meaning.

A gust of wind blew through and tore at our gowns, and one word screamed in my head. Royalty.

I was now royalty - a faerie princess of the Winter Court. If only Maggie could see me now.

She glanced down at my leg, which was still bleeding a deep red. "You're hurt," she murmured, bending down to get a better look. My pulse drummed in my throat as she gently pulled the fabric from my wound. I winced as it pulled on clotting blood. "I'm sorry, you know."

"About what?" I asked, my brows knitting together.

The redcap had done a measure on my leg, tearing through flesh and muscle. A deep red stream still oozed from my wound, puddling around my foot. She nodded towards my leg as she gently prodded the wound with slender fingers. "For your leg, I mean. I hadn't see human blood in a very long time - we don't see much color here. I was intrigued. I'd forgotten how beautiful the color red is."