“Oh, it’s worse than that. It took Luna five years for the spell to break and her to realize that she hadn’t agreed to it. That he’d actually raped her and then made her believe it was her own fault. But while he was in there, he tore through every thought, and he taunted her for years after about her secrets. About her private desires and thoughts.”
Tears welled up as I realized what I’d done. “You pawed through her mind—looking for her secrets. We were looking to see if she was loyal to me, if she was a spy, but that doesn’t matter. You . . .”
“I told you it would be a mind-fuck. And it was. And she’s been the victim before. This . . . How can either one of us expect her to ever forgive us for this?” Kaylin’s voice trembled, but he stayed steady. He shook his head. “I could have loved her and been there for her. . . . But it won’t ever happen now. And while I was in there, I understood why it can never happen. And it’s not because of what I did. It’s because of who I am.”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I’m afraid that Luna looks at me like I’m a freak, Cicely. A nice one, a talented one, but she sees me as a freak. My demon scares the hell out of her. She could never love me, not the way I want her to, because she could never love my demon. I don’t think she even realizes that this is what’s been holding her back. It’s buried in her subconscious.”
Realizing just how far down the rabbit hole we’d fallen, I sat there as Kaylin called the others in. No matter what Luna said to me, no matter what her reaction, I wouldn’t raise a voice or take offense or even protest. How could I? Knowing what I now knew, if she said the sun was blue and the stars were gold, I’d agree.
Ysandra brought in the tea and looked quizzically from Kaylin to me, then back to him, but we both just shook our heads. As Peyton fixed another plate of cookies, the back door opened, and a moment later, Grieve entered the room.
We were eating silently when he came over to my side. “Love, Cicely? The Snow Hag is outside. She wants to talk to you.”
Exhausted, but relieved for the chance to get outside and stretch my legs, I followed my husband to the yard, weighed down by the knowledge of just how much damage I’d done to so many lives.
The snow had let up, and overhead the stars were peeking out, crystal clear and twinkling. I slowly descended the back steps and crossed into the yard where the Snow Hag waited for me. She was standing frozen, a sparkle in her eye.
“The snowy night seems to agree with you.” I was too tired to play all the games required, but I’d do what I could and hope for the best.
“A queen might be weary and tired, and forget herself with lessons in communication so recently learned, and one of the Wilding Fae might recognize this to be exhaustion and not disrespect.” And with that the Hag gave me an out.
She stared up at the sky, a bemused look on her face. “One might think we chance never to see the stars again, and one might be right at there being a chance, if the long winter is to come. But there are ways to prevent the winter from lingering. There are ways to find weaknesses in an enemy, if you are a queen who was once a princess.”
I froze. The Snow Hag knew something, and I needed to know what it was. My tired brain scrambled to put together my question into the right format. “If one were a queen who was once a princess, one might wonder what a Wilding Fae knows. One might be wondering what the price for such information would be.” Crossing to one of the low bushes, now a mound of white, I felt wrapped in a cocoon, muffled from the world. Everywhere, the snow reigned, and it was now my life, my world, and even after we had destroyed Myst, my realm would remain a frozen chrysalis—perpetual winter encased in ice and frost.
The Snow Hag followed me, somehow managing to keep atop the crust. She was short enough and squat enough that I’d expect her to sink deep in the drifts, to be encumbered by them. My thoughts must have been at the top of my mind because she let out a tinkle of laughter—it sounded young to her age, and fell pleasantly on my ears.
“The Wilding Fae belong to seasons. A Snow Hag might belong to the winter, wouldn’t one surmise? She might embody the chill nights and frosty skies. Her form might be an illusion, wouldn’t one think?”
I glanced at her sideways, a tired smile creeping across my face. I nodded. “One might think so, indeed.”
After a moment, she raised a handful of snow to the sky. “Snow falls from the clouds. It freezes to the ground, then melts in the natural cycle of things. Come the spring, it flows into waterways where it evaporates with the heat of the summer, and returns to the sky. When winter rolls around again, it falls once more. The natural order of life. A cycle—a circle.”
I said nothing, just listening. She was teaching me things, even if I didn’t recognize what they were just yet.
“A queen may ask a question and ask the price of the answer. She understands there are always costs for information. Answers require the questioner to pay a price. Whether to life, or to one with knowledge, this is always true, even if the price is not agreed upon in advance.”
“Never anything for free,” I murmured.
“One might be a queen and be correct. Nothing is free. However, there are costs . . . and then there are costs. And sometimes, the sum cannot be determined because the one holding the answer is not she who determines it. At times, the price is roundabout. One asks, one gives, the price is taken by some other force, the payment is given through yet another. Roundabout we go—twists and turns in the path.”
Mulling over her words, I thought I understood what she was saying. “Then, perhaps a queen may ask a question, and an answer is given, but the payment takes place behind the scenes. And neither the queen nor the Wilding Fae know what it is to be, or when it will be given.”
The Snow Hag turned to me. “One understands, one does. One wonders, then . . . does a queen still wish an answer to her question, not knowing what the price will be, or to whom it will be paid?”
I stared at her silent form. The snow on her hand wasn’t melting. She was as cold as I. Suddenly grateful she’d aligned herself to me, I nodded.
“Yes, a queen might still want an answer, given those circumstances.”
Abruptly dropping the snow, she turned to face me. Her eyes, so beady during the day, had grown luminous and bright, and I could see the outer edges of the brilliant creature hiding within the old crone’s body.
“A queen must look to the past—must actually travel into days gone by. She must look to the time when she was a princess, and seek out the vulnerabilities of her enemy. She must journey back to when she lived with starry eyes and cerulean skin, to when she knew the secrets of the one who now holds her fate. She must look for chinks in the armor—only through that means will she know how to proceed in playing the final move. Check might be found without this journey . . . but checkmate? Only can be accomplished by taking a step backward before moving forward.”
The swirl of singsong words danced in my brain . . . and then I understood what she meant. I’d had several flashbacks to my time spent as Myst’s daughter. I was Princess Cherish then—my time when I was a princess, not a queen. If I was able to travel back, I might discover what Myst’s vulnerabilities were. Find the chink in her armor, so to speak.
“But how do I do that?” The words slipped out without me thinking.
The Snow Hag merely tapped her finger to her nose and vanished out of my sight into the darkness. Ask a straight question, and the Wilding Fae would turn a deaf ear or vanish. They lived in a world of riddles and rules and bargains.