Ambrosia (Frost and Nectar Book 2)

The mirror dropped me east of the castle, and I immediately realized three things: one, the magical fragment had not come with me; two, wearing Shalini’s coat had been one of the best decisions I’d ever made because it must be negative twenty here; and three, this place had turned into an absolute hellscape.

And that suggested that Torin did not, in fact, have his magic back.

Dread whispered through me. On the east side of the castle, cages hung from the walls with prisoners trapped inside. A few of the cages hung open, but most of them contained people, frozen and half dead. Bile rose in my throat. If Torin’s throne were intact—if his magic had returned to him—he’d never allow this.

I scanned the cages desperately, searching for Shalini. No sign of her. A glimmer of good news.

In one of the cages, a woman crawled to the bars. Snow crusted her black hair and her pointed ears. “Help me,” she rasped. “We’re here because we were loyal to the king. Please help me.”

“Who rules here now?”

“Moria. She took the king. She took him to the amphitheater.” Hysteria barbed her voice. “Help me, please.”

Horror hit me in the gut. “To the amphitheater? Why?”

“I don’t know!” she shrieked. “Let me free, and I’ll be able to think more clearly.”

I breathed in a sharp, icy breath, feeling as if my thoughts were splitting in two. I could either race to the amphitheater now or I could try to fix his throne. If I returned to him the awe-inspiring power of a Seelie king, he might be able to save himself.

I stepped back in the snow, keeping Shalini’s hood over my horns.

When I glanced to my left, I glimpsed two soldiers marching in the distance. Their maroon uniforms gave them the appearance of drops of blood against a white landscape.

Wasn’t that Moria’s favorite color?

Distantly, I heard the mournful wail of a banshee twisting through the air. Cleena, maybe.

A shudder snaked up my spine. Someone was about to die.

I looked up at the cages once more and summoned life from the frozen earth. It was much harder to make things grow here than it had been in the Court of Sorrows. In Faerie, a thick crust of ice covered the land, trapping the living world beneath winter. In the hollows of my mind, I connected to the plants beneath the soil, feeling their struggle to break free of the ice.

I closed my eyes and thought of the flames of the ash goddess that danced atop the mountain in the Court of Sorrows and of the seductive heat of the Unseelie kingdom. I thought of Torin kissing me deeply in the abandoned temple of the ash goddess. Love is a forge…

I clenched my teeth, my fingers tightening into fists. Vines were hammering at the ice, struggling to break free.

I opened my eyes. Plants burst from the wintry earth, whipped upward, and wrapped themselves around the cage doors.

With a flick of my wrist, the vines pulled open the rusty iron doors. I dropped Shalini’s warm coat in the snow for one of the victims and freed my wings. They burst from my back, ripping Shalini’s shirt, and I soared into the air. Soldiers heard the noise of the cages opening and came running.

Swooping around to the northern side of the castle, I flew through the open portcullis, then beneath the towering ceilings.

Shouts rang out behind me, but I was moving quickly, and the throne room wasn’t far from the front gate. Behind me, a few archers unleashed arrows, but they flew harmlessly past.

My wings pounded the musty castle air, and I swooped into the throne room. A sheen of ice and frost gleamed off the stones, and a shiver chased down my spine.

Five soldiers dressed in black furs guarded the thrones, swords at their hips, but as in the Court of Sorrows, little weeds grew between the cracks in the floor. The soldiers ran at me, but I summoned thick, spiky vines. The vines snaked around the guards, and their swords clattered on the floor.

Locked within the ropes of plants, they shouted for backup. From behind, an arrow zipped past me, too close for comfort.

I whirled around. Zooming in on the little weeds by the door, I summoned them, bigger, higher, until they wove together to form a barrier to shield me from oncoming arrows.

With a hammering heart, I flew above the fallen soldiers and touched down behind Torin’s throne. Winter light poured in through stained glass windows, washing the shattered throne in deep shades of gold and blue.

Brushing my fingertips over the frigid stones, I envisioned the shattered throne coming together. Warm magic skimmed over my body, kissing my skin.

Slowly, roots grew between the fragments, pulling and knitting them together. Magic hummed and buzzed up my spine, making my heart race and my body glow. Piece by piece, the throne came together, the roots tightening, burrowing into the stones until it was half stone, half root, like Mab’s castle. Like an Unseelie throne…

Moss grew between the cracks until at last, a living throne stood, slightly misshapen but intact.

On the other side of my plant shield, soldiers hacked at the barrier.

I pivoted, my wings carrying me into the air. With a boot through the stained glass, I kicked my way out into the winter day. Glass shattered around me in shards of colored light.

A frozen wind whipped at me as I swept outside. On the wind, I heard the sound of screams. I tuned in to the noise, adrenaline sparking through my nerves.

What horrors was Moria unleashing?