Ambrosia (Frost and Nectar Book 2)

At the mention of Queen Mab, fury slid through me, a rage so hot it made my legs shake, a wrath sharp as thorns that would set me free.

I saw it in my mind as it happened. Behind me, a vine shot through the fae’s skull. His muscles went limp, and he slumped to the floor. I whirled to find two more Unseelie standing there, mouths agape. Hardly had the words formed in my mind, hardly did I dare to admit to myself the monster I could become. Flaming violence, hot as a forge, burned all rational thought out of me. My thorny vines carved through the two other fae, severing their heads from their bodies.

Blood spattered around me and on the new white dress.

My body shook. I am death.

The first fae I’d killed was unrecognizable, his face destroyed beneath long, silvery antlers. I pulled my gaze from the other two, trying to block out the screams of the soldiers trapped in branches outside.

Shaking, I turned to the stairwell.

What was I capable of?

Maybe the people here in the Court of Sorrows should have asked themselves that before they decided to find out. Maybe they should have considered that before they locked me in a prison and forced me to kill my lover. Maybe all this blood and the screams were their fault.

By the time I reached the upper levels of the tower, carnage danced in my thoughts. From the stairwell, the tower room glowed with fiery light.

I stepped through the archway into the Dusk Tower itself, and the light seemed to shift, darkening to periwinkle and violet, streaming through windows.

My breath caught at the sight of three enormous silvery wolves that sat protectively around the figure in the center of the room. A fire burned in a stone pit before her, illuminating the stooped woman and her wolves. A pewter-blue veil covered her face, and it hung down over the silver fabric of her dress. She sat still as stone. The only parts of her that were exposed were her pale, wrinkled hands and the enormous silver antlers that jutted from her head. I had the distinct impression that I was trespassing in a place I didn’t quite understand.

One of her wolves lifted his head, narrowing his eyes at me, and let out a low growl. A shiver snaked up my spine.

A flicker of movement caught my attention. There was no glass in the soaring windows, just the open air and the vines that snaked in from the outside. When I took another step into the tower room, the vines twitched.

“Isavell,” the woman murmured.

The name lit a spark of recognition in my mind. I’d been called that before. “I need your help. Please. I want to know how to get out of the Court of Sorrows.”

“Is that what you call our kingdom?” She spoke without moving, and I had the unnerving sense that her words were coming from inside my skull.

I breathed in sharply, frustration burning like an ember inside me. “Please tell me how to get back to Faerie.”

“You will return to Faerie in the Avon River. There, in an abandoned temple to the ash goddess, you will find a mirror hanging from the wall, one that can open a world by naming it. “ Little sparks from the fire danced in the air around her. “East of the castle along the river. That is where the temple stands.”

I closed my eyes, so relieved I could cry. But an unsettling feeling shivered up my nape. This felt too easy. “Why would you help me escape?”

Her head arched back sharply, and her wolves bristled, baring their canines.

“I only foretell the future,” her voice boomed. “And nothing happens in this castle without the queen’s consent. Everything occurs as she intends. Your own sense of control is only an illusion.” The flames rose higher before her.

I stared at her, and despite the growing fire, a sense of dread chilled me down to my marrow. “So nothing I decide actually matters.”

“You have another question for me.”

My breath had gone shallow. “Where do I find Torin’s body?”

“Do you burn for him? Does he burn for you?”

Not the answer I was looking for. “Where do I find his body?”

“You will find him in the throne room.”

“They left him there? Why?”

“I foretell the future, not the past,” she hissed. “That is where you will find him. And her soldiers come for you now. If you do not leave at this very moment, they will capture you. And if you don’t eat or drink soon, you will die.”

My lip curled. “I thought it didn’t matter what I did because the queen controls everything.”

“She will throw you off the tower.”

My heart skipped a beat. I felt the vibrations moving through the stairwell, the clanking of armored guards hurrying up the winding stones.

My gaze flicked to the open window, where the vines hung inside, clinging to the stones. When I held out my hands, the indigo vines unfurled, snapping around my wrists. They lifted me into the air. I landed against the wall with bent legs to cushion the impact and crawled out the window onto the side of the tower. The night wind rushed over me, whipping my hair into my face. Protectively, the plants slid around my waist, a harness of claret leaves.

Under the darkening night sky, I crawled down the tower’s exterior until I reached the floor beneath it, then lower to the third floor.

My thoughts snagged on what the crone had said—that ultimately, Queen Mab was in control of everything happening here. But what was I supposed to do with that knowledge? And who knew if it was even accurate? All I could do was keep moving forward.

I moved east across the castle’s surface, avoiding the windows.

When I glanced down at the earth far below, my heart skipped a beat. Holy shit, I was high up. Dizziness blurred my thoughts. The old crone had been right. If I didn’t get water soon, this would all be over.

Midnight vines carried me across the castle’s face, moving me lower toward the floor with the shattered windows. Beneath me, some of the armored guards still dangled from the wreckage.

They kicked in the air, flailing and screaming. I aimed for an opening as far as possible from the trapped soldiers. The vines lowered me down, then lifted me in through the shattered window. My shoes crunched on the glass, and I broke into a run.

I stumbled through the halls toward the throne room with a rising sense of dread spreading through me like poison.

Because—gods, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to do it. I wasn’t sure if I could handle seeing him dead. The horror of it all might shatter what was left of my fragmented mind, and I was already turning into a monster.

And yet…there was that feeling again, that his presence was here, the raw, masculine power of the Seelie king. I kept thinking I could smell him, that I couldn’t leave here without him…

My nostrils flared as the scent was gone again, replaced by a sharp sense of loss.

And something else now, a sharpness in my belly. The scent of cooking vegetables and the pungent smell of coal curled through the vaulted corridors. When I breathed in, I smelled food. Something else, too. Burning coal, melting steel. But it was the food I needed.

As I rounded a corner, moonlight slanted in through shattered windows. Flame-colored plants climbed cobalt walls, and a few burning cinders floated through the air. My legs were shaking uncontrollably. The crone had been right. I was absolutely desperate for water, and I wasn’t sure I could make it through the rest of this castle without it. I’d never make it back to Faerie with Torin’s body unless I drank. If only I could feast off light itself as the tree did.

I followed the scent of food until I arrived at a kitchen. It was the size of the throne room, and I peered around the corner. I spotted a great hearth, eight feet high and made of the same bluish stones. A black metal pot bubbled in the center of the hearth, a cauldron of sorts that emitted the most delicious scent. I didn’t feel a normal sense of hunger anymore, but rather an incandescent survival instinct that screamed at me. I would collapse soon without food and water.

Unfortunately, though the rest of the castle had emptied out, the kitchen was bustling with servants, all of them dressed in aprons and white caps. Cooks were chopping vegetables, hurrying around with sacks of flour. My gaze snagged on a pile of carrots that I very much wanted to snatch, but a large man with a wheelbarrow was ambling closer to me.

I darted back into the hallway and waited until he emerged, pulling the wheelbarrow behind him.

He froze as his eyes took in the bloodstains on my dress, but thorny blue tendrils were already around his throat, silencing him. His wheelbarrow slammed to the ground, and I snatched a steaming piece of bread, so hot it burned my fingers. With my other free hand, I grabbed a pitcher of water from inside the doorway, and I was off again, searching for a quiet place to eat and drink, clinging to my new treasure like some kind of raggedy scavenger bird. Behind me, the vines slid together across the hall, shielding me.

I didn’t stop moving until I found an open archway in what looked like an empty temple. Near the entrance, I found a dark alcove overgrown with plant life. I nestled down in the corner and peered out into the temple to make sure no one was around.

On the far side of the flagstones stood an altar with a fireplace in the center, flanked by columns. A temple to the ash goddess, maybe, spitting burning cinders into the air. Gleaming swords jutted from the arched rock above the flames. From the smoldering forge, smoke curled.

Tucked in my corner, I put the pitcher to my lips, drinking the water deeply. My muscles unclenched as I slaked my thirst. Never before in the history of water had anything tasted so amazing. Water dripped from the corners of my mouth as I chugged it.

Only after drinking half of it did I realize it wasn’t in fact water, but ambrosia. I ran my tongue over my lips, savoring the sweet flavor. Shit. I could easily down the whole thing, but it would make me drunk, fast. My body already hummed with the seductive magic of its effects, the air around me seeming to caress my skin and the delicate silk of the dress.

I forced myself to stop drinking the ambrosia and bit into the hot bread, closing my eyes at the rich flavors. After a few bites, I slowed down so I didn’t make myself sick.

I inhaled deeply, breathing in the scent of burning oak and charcoal. Embers wafted through the air in burning motes. The ambrosia was making me feel at one with everything around me, the castle itself formed from the earth, with the hot metallic scent of melting steel. The words Love is a forge formed in my mind like a red-hot beacon.

It was time to find Torin again, and the euphoria of this ambrosia might help steel me mentally for the shock of seeing his corpse.

But as I chewed, I felt the subtle vibrations though the floor, the echo of footfalls through the hall. From the shadows, I held my breath, watching as a woman draped in gray crossed into the temple. I kept out of view for a moment, then turned to see her stoking the flames on the altar’s forge. I peered out to see her bathed in rosy light, the sword hilts above her illuminated with dancing orange hues.

She reached for a piece of steel, heating it in the fire, and grabbed a hammer to start shaping it. The sound of clanging metal echoed around me. But my thoughts turned back to the sword hilts above her, and it took me another moment to realize why.

My heart raced at the sight of one particular sword, one with an obsidian hilt. The Sword of Whispers belonged to the Seelie king, and I wasn’t leaving here without it.

In moments, my vines snaked around the priestess, wrapping about her neck and putting her to sleep. I dropped my bread and gingerly stepped over her body.

I had to climb on the altar, heat searing my skin, to reach the sword. The hilt was hot to the touch, but not enough to burn me.

When I gripped it, I heard the voices of gods whispering around me, and the rich voice of Torin booming through the corridors.

My heart skipped a beat.

Was I losing my mind, or was that actually his deep voice echoing from the hall where I’d killed him?

I broke into a run.