Midnight Frost (7 page)

“But surely...”

“Breena,” Kian said softly. “I trust you – and Logan, I trust you. Right now, we cannot worry about what goes on behind closed doors. Publicly, you must remain engaged to Logan. It is the only way to ensure the Northern Wolves' support.”

“You want us to be engaged again?” Logan looked cockeyed at Kian. “You...don't mind.”

“Right now, it's the least of our problems,” said Kian. “I love Breena – of course I do! But whatever happens between us will happen when the war is over, and only a false engagement will keep this war from outliving us all.” He turned to Logan. “I know the spell that made you fall in love with her – that it was hard on all of us. But the spell has been broken now. I will have to ask you to pretend it still holds a while longer.”

Kian knew as well as I did that Logan's love for me was predicated on more than just a spell. But he knew, too – as I did – that we could not harm Logan's dignity any further. For all our sakes, we had to pretend that Logan felt nothing for me. A gentlemanly thing to do, I thought, looking at Kian with admiration.

Logan seemed grateful for the way out. “Of course, it was only a spell,” he said, giving a slight cough. “But my friendship for Breena is strong enough, isn't it? I can pretend...”

“I can too,” I said quietly. As much as I hated the idea of falling back into that strange engagement with Logan, Kian's argument made sense. “But Kian – are you sure that you don't mind?”

“I want there to be a Summer and Winter for us to come home to, one day,” said Kian. “This is the only way. Your love saved me – I know your love is true. I trust you, my darling. I trust you enough to let petty jealousy aside. I know where your heart lies – regardless of what ring is on your finger.”

I could see Logan's face in the candlelight, filled with pain. This wasn't going to be easy on any of us.

“I'll lay low for a while,” Kian continued. “As far as anyone's concerned, I died on the battlefield. Only you know the truth. Perhaps that could be beneficial. I can do far more good as a spy than I could as the Crown Prince. You must tell them all I am dead – tell them all you could not save me.”

“But your mother? Your sister?”

“I am no longer a Winter denizen,” Kian said sadly. “I am dead to them – I have to be. To do the work I need to accomplish. I must fight for all fairies equally. And if I am dead, my mother will not hold back. She will not fear losing me – and she will not let her love for me influence her judgment. She will not hold back. I have always been a burden to my mother – her love for me has always prevented her from being the Great Queen she wished to be. She already was forced to order my father's death in battle in order to save Winter. I know that she would not be able to bear that danger a second time. Her concern for my safety might just hold her back.”

“But even with the Wolves,” Logan broke in. “How can we deal with the Dark Hordes? That power is far greater than ours.”

“That's where my plan comes in,” said Kian. “I've been thinking – these creatures that have come into Feyland. They are the stuff of legend, of nightmares. They are the stories mothers tell their children at night to keep them afraid. My greatest fear is not the prowess of these Hordes in battle – it is their effect on fairy morale. They will surrender in terror before even daring to fight.”

“Then what...?” Logan started.

“Fairies need a champion, a hero – the stuff of legend. If their nightmares come to attack them, their dreams must defend them. And if I am disguised – I could be that hero.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked.

“The Midnight Knight,” said Kian. “The greatest hero Feyland has ever known. Dressed in black. Belonging neither to Summer or Winter – but to the ancient age of Undivided Feyland. My mother used to tell me stories about him when I was a child – he was the greatest warrior, able to vanquish the Dark Hordes.”

“I haven't heard that story since I was a pup,” Logan said. “The Midnight Knight. Who drove the Dark Hordes into the deepest Gorge in Feyland, and kept them there.” His face broke into a smile. “Along with his sidekick, the Red Wolf.”

“I wouldn't say
sidekick
,” Kian added charitably. “More like – companion. And if our fairies – let alone the Dark Hordes – believe that the Knight and Wolf are back, that they have come to defend Feyland...they will not fear. They will find their own strength to fight back. And the Hordes will succumb, too, to their terror.       

“You really think people still believe in those stories?” I asked.

“I think stories live far longer than people,” said Kian. “If there is any magic strong enough to vanquish these Hordes, it will not come by the swords of soldiers but by the will of the people. They need hope – we all do. And the Midnight Knight – he is not merely a Winter tale or a Summer tale, but one shared by both factions. He is a figure that Summer and Winter alike can believe in – can hope for. And so he is the only one who can save them both. Not the Winter Prince – whom Summer still mistrusts. But someone with the true potential to be a hero.”

“The Midnight Knight,” I said.

“It could work,” said Logan. “Breena, do you agree?”

I thought of my people – my fairies – whom I loved. I thought of their pain, their despair, their hopelessness as one by one, the people they cared about lay strewn and silver-soaked upon the battlefield. If there was anything they needed, it was hope. It was faith in someone new – someone who belonged neither to the Winter nor the Summer forces – something that even I could not give them. It was a hero.

“Yes,” I said.

Chapter 7

I
t was time to move on. We had spent the night in Josephine's lair – Logan and I had been escorted to our private chamber, while Kian – masquerading as my loyal servant, “Rhinehaus” - was given the rather unceremonious bed of a pile of hay on the floor outside our bedroom. Josephine, for all her strength and kindness, was evidently a stickler for class distinctions.

“So, I'll just sleep on the floor, then, shall I?” Logan was blushing the color of fairyfruit as we surveyed our bedchamber – a single, silk-covered bed in the middle of the room.

“That's not fair!” I stumbled over my words. “I mean, you were here first – this is your room.” Had things ever been so awkward between us when we were in Gregory, when life was so easy? “I'll take the floor.”

“I insist, Breena!” Logan gave me a playful shove towards the bed. “When I slept over at your house back...back home, I mean....I always slept on the floor or the sofa.”

I couldn't help but give a small smile. “I think my mom would have been fine with you sharing the bed. She was always pretty progressive about those things.” Raine Malloy was proud of her permissive parenting – after all, I had never given her any cause to doubt me.

“Do you ever miss those days?” Logan asked me.

“Sometimes.” I sighed. “All the time. It doesn't seem real anymore. Sometimes it feels like Gregory was the dream – that I never lived there at all. My whole life there is just some...someone else's. You're lucky, Logan. You grew up going between two worlds. You're used to it. Me, it's just been one big transition after another.”

Logan gave me a reassuring pat on the shoulder – too careful lest his caress last too long. “I”ll compromise with you,” he said. “We both sleep in the bed – your feet next to my head, and my feet next to your head. Is that...okay?”

“It's fine,” I said, but as Logan and I both clambered into the bed I could feel his skin – rough and hard – against mine. I let myself emit an involuntary shudder as he touched me – a memory of the last time we had touched like this. And I could feel Logan trembled slightly besides me. But I thought of Kian sleeping outside the door, evidently getting used to treatment far less royal than that to which he was accustomed, and I forced my face into a countenance of happy normalcy.

“Comfy?” I asked.

“Comfy.”

“One day we'll go back to visit Gregory,” I said. “And we'll have a normal sleepover. Like we used to. Marshmallows and burritos and John Hughes movies.”

“Do you think Kian's ever watched a John Hughes movie?”

“Kian probably doesn't know what movies
are
,” I laughed. “God – I miss movies.”

“Electricity”

“Internet!” I laughed. “I bet I've got an email inbox back in Gregory with two million unread messages.”

“All from Clarisse, probably. Taunting you for never wearing make-up.”

“They don't even have makeup in Feyland,” I said.

“I knew there was a reason you liked this place,” Logan poked me with his toes.

“That's what I'll do when the war is over,” I murmured sleepily. “Bring Internet to Feyland. And Mac and Cheese.”

“Can't forget the Mac and Cheese,” Logan said, and with that we both drifted off to sleep. That night I dreamed for the first time of home – more vividly than I had ever done before. I dreamed of the books on my bookshelf, of my paint-sets and of my mother's pathetic attempts at making scrambled eggs. It was safe there. It was peaceful.

I woke up more relaxed than I had been in a while – and with an unquenchable craving for Mac and Cheese. We breakfasted in the communal hall – the she-wolves somewhat more hostile to my presence than they had been before I had spent the night with Logan, and attempting to content themselves by flirting shamelessly with Kian.

“A-
hem
! Girls!” Josephine strode in, taking one look at the pack-members fawning over Kian's wounds and turning instantly to us. “Did you sleep well?”

“Soundly,” I said.

“It was an honor to meet my clans-brother's bride,” said Josephine. “I look forward to an alliance of Wolves with Fey, as it was in the old days, before my people began to take an interest in humans...”

“Then we can count on your support?” Logan said.

“Indeed,” said Josephine. “As long as there is a promise of a young wolf cub on the Summer Throne one day, we will all work to make such a thing possible.”

Logan and I gave each other an uncomfortable look.

“And none of us wish to risk the chaos that will threaten all of us if the Dark Hordes take over Feyland,” Josephine continued.

We exchanged more greetings and then we were off. Logan suggested that we head straight for the Summer Court, but Kian proposed a detour to a small mountain village at the very end of Wolfsland, populated by wolves, fairies, and other magical creatures alike. There, he said, ancient craftsmen made the best armor in Feyland, and if he was to pass for the Midnight Knight – let alone defend himself with a halfway-decent sword – he (and indeed, all of us), would need new armor.

It was a four hour trek to the top of the mountain, but there at its peak we found a cluster of wooden houses arranged in a horseshoe formation. It was far smaller than the towns and cities of Feyland – yet it had a particular rustic charm. While the Summer Court – for all its lack of electricity and John Hughes movie – felt like a bustling city, with numerous houses belonging to craftsmen and artisans outside the palace gates and cottages scattered throughout the country glen; this felt far more remote, far stranger.

“I wish to make a replica of the Midnight Knight's sword,” said Kian as we passed towards the threshold of one particular house. “Too dangerous to do it closer to Feyland proper – the word might get out that I was an imposter. But here...I can trust the discretion of the Fey here.”

A wizened, cherry-red face peered out of the house. “Can I help you?” An old woman bustled out into the front garden where we stood. “Dearies – you look so terribly cold. Can't I fix you a pot of hot elderberry tea? Come on in!”

She put her arms around Kian and Logan and bid me to follow, escorting us all inside, into a tiny and eminently messy room, filled with mismatched armchairs and lit by a roaring fire. About ten cats mewed softly as they warmed themselves in front of the fireplace.