Ambrosia (Frost and Nectar Book 2)

The frozen air stung my throat, and my lungs felt seared with ice. A small part of me thought that I should yell at Aeron and tell him to go on ahead of me, but even if I could muster the courage to do that, I didn’t have the breath to shout.

I stole a quick glance behind. The dragon circled overhead, herding us toward the castle. Every time we tried to veer off course, the fucking monster would light up the path with incinerating heat. The world around me was half glacier, half firestorm.

Aeron turned to me, and I’d never seen him look scared before. His eyes were open wide, his face pale. He wrapped his arms around me protectively.

“We can’t go any further, love,” he said through ragged breaths. “That thing is trying to force us back to Moria. Maybe she wants a trial.”

I clung to him, my heart thundering like a stampede. I didn’t think there was any way out of this. Aeron’s use of “trial” seemed like a euphemism—one last act of kindness from him to keep hope alive until my last breath.

But we both knew that Moria didn’t plan to let us live.

A roar rumbled over the horizon, and the dragon swooped overhead, unleashing a firestorm behind us, the heat scorching the air. With a snarl, Aeron grabbed my arm again and pulled me along with the frantic desperation of a dying man.

My toes stung in the icy snow.

What the fuck was my life right now?

I could hardly piece together a coherent thought, just panicked, fragmented wisps about how it was better to take our chances with an evil queen’s justice in the future than to burn alive. Could there be a worse death than burning alive? I had a disturbing feeling I was going to find out here in Faerie. The world smoldered behind us. In front of us, it gleamed with ice.

The dragon’s fire forced us closer to the castle, and smoke clouded the air around us, making me cough. Ashes mingled with snow, and the sharp-towered castle came into view, along with a legion of soldiers in silver armor. White sunlight gleamed off them as they marched forward, the intensity nearly blinding.

My thoughts went quiet.

I couldn’t breathe anymore, the smoke stinging my lungs, the forest smoldering behind us. My brain teetered on the knife-edge between panic and survival, and panic was winning, making my limbs heavy. As I slowed, Aeron lost his grip on my arm.

I don’t know if it was exhaustion or fear, but my body simply wouldn’t move anymore, my muscles locking.

I slammed to my knees in the snow. Aeron whirled, gripping me around the ribs, like he was going to carry me to safety. And as much as I loved him for it, I knew we had nowhere left to run.

“I’m sorry!” I shouted at Aeron.

Guilt pierced me. If I hadn’t been here, Aeron would have found a way out.

Shouts rang out as the silver-clad soldiers descended on us and ripped Aeron away from me. His panicked eyes were locked on me as I felt the boot on my back and found myself facedown in the snow. Rough hands captured my wrists in freezing iron shackles, then clamped one around my throat.

When the soldier yanked me up again, I felt as if my arms would be pulled from their sockets.

I shivered wildly, trudging on through the snow. The soldiers led us to the castle. And as we got closer, a sharp tendril of horror wound through my chest.

Cages hung from the castle walls on long iron chains. In one of them, I glimpsed the pale, shivering figure of Princess Orla. She must be freezing to death.

I stared at her, my eyes stinging. I wondered if she’d been screaming, and when she’d stopped.

The other cages? I had a horrified feeling that they were empty, waiting for us.