Midnight Frost Read online

  Midnight Frost

  Bitter Frost #5

  of Kailin Gow’s Frost Series

  kailin gow

  Midnight Frost

  Published by THE EDGE

  THE EDGE is an imprint of Sparklesoup Inc.

  Copyright © 2011 Kailin Gow

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage or retrieval system, without the permission in writing from the publisher except in case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. Do NOT post on websites or share this book without permission from copyright holder. We take piracy seriously.

  All characters and storyline is an invention from Kailin Gow. Any resemblance to people alive or dead is purely coincidence.

  For information, please contact:

  THE EDGE at Sparklesoup

  14252 Culver Dr., A732

  Irvine, CA 92604

  www.sparklesoup.com

  First Edition.

  ISBN 13: 978-1597489027

  DEDICATION

  Midnight Frost is dedicated to you readers who have stayed with the Frost Series from Bitter Frost throughout and have been my greatest supporters. Thank you for your word-of-mouth advertising, for believing in these characters and the message of hope in this series. Your encouragement and kind words help make this series possible.

  Prologue

  I was falling. The air tasted like snow – sharp, tart particles whipped past my face, bruising me with frost. The mountain's peak was far above me, now – and from where I was plummeting I could see that needle-sharp point from which I had been pushed. I closed my eyes. I was dying, now, I knew – I had made that choice. For Kian. For Kian, whom I had loved – for Kian, on whom I rested all my hopes. It was up to him now. It was up to Kian to make peace, the peace that we had been working for for so long. I could feel tears trickle from in between my eyelids, squeezed tightly but not tightly enough to hold them back; I could feel them freeze on my face.

  Was this dying?

  I never imagined that there would be so much time between falling and landing. I never imagined that it would take so long to die. All these moments, each one stretching and slowing so that I could see in every second that kept me from the ground all the memories, long-hidden, long-forgotten, of my life thus far. I could see my mother's laugh and my father raised up on his horse – see the childhood in Feyland I thought I had forgotten, and the childhood in Gregory, Oregon, I knew so well.

  I was only eighteen years old. And already I was going to die. For Kian.

  I tried to push the fear out of my mind, the beating of my heart, the terror as I kept falling. I didn't want to look down. I didn't want to see how much time I had left – how many feet there were still to fall. A queen wouldn't be scared, I told myself. A queen would be strong. I had been the Summer Queen in life – now it was time to die like one.

  It was time to die alone, scared, on some mountain I had never seen before (but I was only eighteen years old! And the past two years in Feyland were nothing but a dream...suddenly I was sixteen again, in high school, making poster cutouts for the Environmentalist Club and my heart ached for that unknowing childhood!) It was time to die for a love that, two years ago, I thought was only the stuff of dreams. It was time to die for a country I had never even known to be real.

  No. A voice was strong and loud within me. No. I wasn't going to die – not here, not now. I wasn't going to give it up – not everything...not Feyland, not Gregory. I wasn't going to die without seeing my mother again, without going back to Gregory, without walking in those woods behind the High School, without laughing in the face of Clarisse who had teased me so mercilessly. And I wasn't going to die without saving Feyland, making peace, stopping the Pixies, the onslaught of death...

  These two lives, so different – my human life and my fairy life – each flashing before me. These two lives I loved so much – I wasn't going to give up either.

  I wasn't going to die. No – the voice within me grew angry – not when I had so much left to do. Not when there was so much ahead of me. I wasn't going to die because some old woman with mystic powers had told me to – no, there had to be something more than that. Something more than her magic. There had to be some way – a way based in the ancient magic of love, that mysterious subject with all its primal power that the fairies so loved and feared – there had to be a way to save us both. Me and Kian – linked forever. As long as one of us lived, the other one had to live, too. I was sure of it. Kian had said once that love was the strongest, most dangerous magic there was.

  Well, I was willing to face the danger. I felt the magic in me – the power of Summer, the power of my throne and crown – call out to the magic around me: to the twin suns of Feyland, to the sky and stars, to the mountains, to the earth. I could feel my body growing warm; I could feel on my face the ray of a sun I knew was not shining down upon me.

  I wasn't going to die like this – I wasn't going to let it end. There had to be another way. I could hear a sound roaring in my ears – the sound of life, the sound of wind – a great, magnificent flapping that seemed to drown out my fear, drown out all sound but its own.

  I was falling faster, now; the snow against my flesh grew bitter, and one icicle sliced across my hand.

  My eyes flew open.

  And then I saw my wound. Not red – not the color of human blood – but silver. The color of fairy blood.

  And then I saw the source of that sound of flapping – the magnificent beating. I was surrounded by gleaming feathers, blue and gold intertwined, trimmed with scarlet. They were pushing against the air, pushing me up higher, keeping me aloft, keeping me safe.

  And that's when it hit me.

  They were my wings.

  The shock was the last thing I remember before everything went black.

  ************

  A sleep had overtaken me – or else a darkness. I did not know where I was. I could see nothing, hear nothing, smell nothing. My limbs were stiff, but there was no pain. Had I fallen, after all – had I died? The wings – were they only a dream? I looked around, but my eyes could not adjust – the darkness around me was too palpable, too black, for my eyes to ascertain any life in it.

  “Hello?” My lips made some kind of motion, but no sound came out. I could feel my own breath – hoarse and listless – was that a sign of life? Was I alive? Fear began throbbing within my chest.

  “Breena!” It was a voice I knew – so soft, so sweet, so familiar. Yes, my mother's voice – how often had I curled up against her, leaned my head on her shoulder, given myself over to the happiness of my childhood, of love? The voice made me want to curl up again – where it was warm, dark, safe.

  “Breena, my child, come back to me...”

  “Mommy?” The words came out at last. I hadn't called her Mommy since I was five years old but the words seemed to drift out from my lips.

  “Come back home to Gregory. Leave Feyland – leave it all behind. You belong with me, darling, where it's safe. Where it's warm.”

  Yes, I thought drowsily. Warm. Safe. Home. That's what I needed to do – just what Mommy said.

  “Forget everything...” My mother's voice filled my heart with warmth. “Forget Feyland. Just come home. Just be normal.”

  An objection formed in the back of my mind. “But the peace...” I whispered. “I have to make peace.”

  “You're just a little girl!” The voice came back to me. “Let your daddy handle it. He's so big, so strong. He can take care of it. You just need to come home. Curl up in bed. I'll read you your favorite story – make you some soup...”

  Soup – yes! I fel
t myself nodding. I would lie in bed, curl up – Mommy would read me my favorite story – just like when I was little. Yes – just like...

  No! Something else within me, some strength, woke me up. What was I doing? I wasn't a little girl at all – I was eighteen, a Queen, responsible for my entire kingdom. I couldn't leave all that behind – what was I thinking? My brain felt foggy, clouded – what enchantment was this?

  “I'm not a little girl, Mommy!” My voice was stronger now. “I've spent two years in Feyland, learning to rule, learning to control my magic. And I have the power of the Summer Throne within me- all the Summer Queens of the past, looking out for me. Taking care of me.”

  “Hush now,” my mother's voice was so soothing, so calming. She could have convinced me of anything. “But you have a fatal weakness,” she whispered. “You're a human. I am human and so you are of human blood. You're not like the other fairies – strong enough to withstand the challenges of Feyland. Humans are easily consumed by emotions. By madness. You don't want to go mad, do you?”

  “No, Mommy...”

  “In Feyland, being controlled by passion can lead to only one thing. Your downfall. Death. Danger. You don't want that, do you?”

  “N..no, Mommy?” I looked around, my eyes adjusting at last. We were in a valley – somewhere I had never been before. Some dark corner of Feyland. Not like the splendid palaces of the Summer or Winter Courts. This place was colder. Darker. More dangerous. I could feel some magic within me telling me that this was a place of ancient magic – a place that nobody, neither Winter nor Summer, had ever been able to tame. What was my mother doing here? And why was she telling me to leave Feyland?

  “Let your Daddy handle things,” my mother said again. “After all, he's so strong. So brave. He's a man. He'll be able to handle everything.”

  That broke the spell. Even in my dreamy, disoriented state, I knew one thing about my mother. And the real Raine Malloy would never, ever, have dreamed of suggesting that her only daughter could be outdone by any man.

  “Who are you?” I cried out. “What do you want with me? You're not my mother, are you?”

  A high-pitched, cold laugh filled the valley. My hands went – instinctively – to the dagger still looped into my belt.

  “I order you,” I cried out. “In the name of the Summer Queen, I command you – show yourself.”

  The voice laughed again. “What fun would it be if I did that?”

  I drew the dagger from its handle. “More fun than being made into mincemeat by this dagger” I shouted. “I would guess – take your pick.”

  “Silly girl,” the voice was sounding less and less like my mother's. “You couldn't do that?”

  “And why not?” I was getting angry, now. The voice was coming from all directions – bouncing off the sides of the mountains. I whirled around, looking for its source.

  “Because it's impossible.”

  “What, you're immortal?” I scoffed. “I've heard that before. And believe me – even an immortal fairy can be killed by the right magic.” I thought with a pang of Kian, his eyes closed, his mouth wet with silver, laid out like a sacrifice at the top of the mountain from which I had fallen. Had he made it? Had I been able to save him? “Do you want to take that risk?”

  “I have moved beyond immortality,” said the voice.

  “Then show yourself,” I cried. “If you mean no harm to me, I will not harm you.”

  “But, you see,” said the voice. “I do mean harm.”

  “Too bad,” I gritted my teeth. “I've just fallen off the biggest baddest mountain in Feyland and somehow I'm still walking. I think you're going to have some trouble killing me.” I remembered my silver blood – my wings. My Summer magic.

  “Killing you? Please, my dear girl – if I wanted to harm you I wouldn't kill you. Only those you love. Your mother. Your love, Kian. Your friends – Rodney, Shasta, Logan.”

  I couldn't resist a gasp. Who was this mysterious spirit, that knew the names of all those I loved.

  “So that is your weakness, Breena. That is where I can take my revenge. Your love for your friends, your family. A fairy would never have such weaknesses.”

  “Fairies can and do!” I shouted. “My father – Kian – Rodney – Shasta – all of them! Me. A fairy just like the rest of them. They know how to love. How to fight for what they believe in – how to be brave. Unlike you – whatever you are – too cowardly to show yourself face to face. I order you, in the name of the Summer Queen, to show yourself! Who are you?”

  “The Summer Queen,” came the echo.

  Anger reared up in me. I had just spent the last two minutes of my life confronting the shadow of my own death – I wasn't about to be mocked on top of it! “Yes, I bloody well am the Summer Queen – but who are you?”

  “The Summer Queen,” came the voice again – faintly mocking.

  “I am the Summer Queen!”

  “And so was I.”

  And then I recognized the voice – recognized it with a surety that made the hairs upon my neck stand on end. It was Redleaf's voice. The voice of the woman who had expelled my mother, enchanted my father, threatened my life. The woman who had started the war.

  My wicked stepmother. The other Summer Queen.

  Chapter 1

  She appeared to me now, her form diaphanous and vague. I could still make out her auburn hair, her haughty smile – her honey-colored skin. She was decked out in jewels, each one shining brighter than the last. But she was not a fairy any longer – not a fairy as I knew them. No, she had no more substance than a cloud, than a puff of smoke. Behind her jewels, behind her face, behind her hair I could see the outlines of the mountain behind her. She had no feet, no hands, but rather her form seemed to taper off into shadows – she did not stand but rather floated before me, no thicker than a sheet of paper. I could have walked right through her, I knew. But even in this state, I could see the power in her, and I could feel fear rise in the back of my throat. She was not a fairy to be trifled with in life; in death, I knew, she was more than a mere shadow. I felt, standing before her, the same old fear that I had experienced when meeting her for the first time, when she had threatened to kill me

  But I wouldn't let her win. I wouldn't show her my fear. I was the Summer Queen now, and I wasn't about to cave.

  “Redleaf,” I said, in my bravest voice.

  “Smart girl!” She laughed. “I always knew you were clever. Too clever for your own good, I'm afraid, or else you would have heeded my warning. You would have run. Gone back to your Mommy in silly old Gregory. But your stupid human side kept you stubborn.”

  “You're dead.”

  “You've noticed.” I could see her raise an eyebrow, her face rippling in and out of visibility. “But I'm not gone. A fairy as powerful as I was leaves her traces somehow. And so I am a phantom. You don't think just any fairy gets to be a phantom, do you?” She laughed. “Of course, you know so little about fairies. Just an upstart newcomer hick from the human lands. You didn't even know we existed, did you?”

  I said nothing.

  “You see, I have a new kingdom now.” She motioned around to the jagged rocks, the bare stone of the mountains. “Not Summer, not Autumn. Somewhere new.”

  “Where are we?”

  “Silly girl – haven't you guessed?” She laughed. “Not so clever after all, are we? You're in the Kingdom of the Dead.”

  “No...” I raised my voice. “No, it can't be...” I wasn't dead, was it? I had felt it – felt the life force within me struggle to live – felt my wings, my silver blood. “I'm not dead!” I had experienced death before, at the hands of a pixie disguised as Kian – and I knew that then his snowflake – his precious gift – had saved me. I remembered dying then. I wasn't dead now.

  I touched my neck – my fingers searching for the talisman, the snowflake. It wasn't there.

  My heart plummeted as I remembered the mountain, my sacrifice, Kian's cold face, his closed eyes....was I dead after all?
<
br />   “Am I dead?”

  A scoff. “If only! Alas, my girl – look down. Your body is solid – as mine was. You are not one of us. You still belong to the living world.”

  “What am I doing here? I was falling – but I didn't fall. My wings...” My wings had stopped me, hadn't they?

  “You're a strange one, Breena,” Redleaf said, her voice sour. “First you repel a kelpie as a baby – yes, dear, I'm sure you must have figured out it was one of my special visitors for you. Then you withstand a fairy's kiss – and don't even go the tiniest bit mad. Even your mother went a little bit batty after that!”

  “My mother's always been a little batty,” I blurted out, before realizing this wasn't the best defense.

  “You've been able to thwart me and Wort at every turn – getting so close to your precious peace. And now you come here, while still living, when every ancient magic should have repelled you, when this place should have closed its doors to you! What magic do you have, Breena?”

  “Maybe it's all that soppy stuff,” I spoke through gritted teeth. “Love. Humanity. You wouldn't understand.”

  “Ah,” but Redleaf made a face. “I must. For you see, I will not leave this place – not until I am freed. Not until my anger, my hatred – all that keeps me from crossing beyond the mountain – sets me free.”

  “You'll have a long wait, then,” I said. I couldn't see her attaining enlightenment any time soon.

  “I never thought I would need your help,” Redleaf said.

  “My help?”

  “You see,” said Redleaf. “I am a phantom now, a denizen of a Kingdom of the Dead. One of the Dark Hordes.”

  I swallowed hard. The Dark Hordes – the most wicked and ancient races of magic – had recently joined the war, fighting with the Pixies and Winter Fairies against Summer. The most dangerous, uncontrollable forces in the fairy world – and now Redleaf was one?