Ambrosia (Frost and Nectar Book 2)

The world below was a sea of white interrupted only by the line of bare trees to my right. Icicles hung from their dark, spiked boughs.

As I flew, my mind snagged on what Cala had said. Nothing happens here without the queen’s consent…

If that were true, how had I escaped at all?

Except the queen had told me quite clearly what she wanted, hadn’t she?

Slowly, the puzzle pieces slid together in my mind.

Everything that happened in the Court of Sorrows had been under her control. The imprisonment, the duel, the rules about not seeing each other on pain of a horrible death, the many promises to throw me off the tower…

Every single thing that had happened there had been a test, with the specific purpose of discovering if the queen could get what she wanted.

The sound of distant screams sent fear prickling up my nape, interrupting my thoughts. Every inch of this place, every rock and slope of snow, every sharp blade of ice—it all exuded menacing brutality. When I’d first arrived for the competition, Faerie had seemed sinister. Now? The cold, rocky earth breathed violence.

The scent of sulfur and ash floated on the wind. And from the direction of the amphitheater, a monstrous form swept through the skies. An icy shiver danced through my nerve endings.

A dragon soared beneath the steely clouds, wings beating under a wintry sky. Perched on its back was a figure dressed in crimson, a smear of bittersweet nightshade against ink and bone.

My stomach plummeted. My plant magic, though amazing, was not the best defense against an actual inferno of hellfire. And with the thick layers of ice like a tomb over the earth, I needed to stop and concentrate to rip vegetation free.

I flew toward the cover of the skeletal trees. As I turned, the dragon soared closer, scorching the air with a blast of solar wind that singed my exposed skin and wings.

A tendril of panic twisted through my gut as I careened for the trees, angling my wings for speed but sacrificing control. I landed in a tumble of wings and limbs and snow. Pain shot through my wing bones, and I winced. But there was no time to nurse my wounds because the dragon was hurtling toward me.

Fear ignited my thoughts like lightning.

I lay at the edge of a forest, bare, black trees jutting like antlers from the white earth. This was my army, the trees, my soldiers. As the dragon swept closer, ready to breathe another stream of fire, the sharp boughs swept out above me like hands reaching for the dragon. Icicles dropped into the snow as the branches shifted, and the tree limbs twined around the dragon’s throat.

The monster crashed to the icy ground, the force of the impact shaking the earth. A cloud of shimmering snow puffed around the dragon, frosting it. Snow dusted my body.

My blood roared with the predatory thrill of a hunter bringing down prey, and the trees formed a cage around the dragon.

In the puff of snow, I’d lost track of Moria.

I stood, wincing at the pain from my bruised wings. Winter kissed my skin.

The dragon lay only about fifty feet from me now. The creature was facing away from me, but if I didn’t put enough distance between us, the monster might turn and ignite me with flames.

I flexed my wings, once, twice. My plan was to fly close to the trees to avoid the dragon, but with my injured wings, I wasn’t sure I could do it.

Each time my wings thumped the air, a sharp pain burst through the left one. The snow whipped at my face, and I gritted my teeth, trying to fly higher, faster. I made it a few feet off the ground, but one wing felt weighted down, and my flight was uneven and meandering. Desperately, I wanted to get to Torin. Had I given him his power back? I hoped so. And what if Moria had already killed him? After all, she was flying away from the amphitheater, like she’d just finished the job.

A storm of dark, frantic thoughts whipped through my mind. I absolutely could not lose him again.

My heart stampeded in my chest as I struggled to lift off, tears stinging my eyes—until my gaze landed on another figure joining the fray. In the distance, through the whorls of snow, I spotted someone dressed in white rags streaked with blood. My heart cracked at the sight of Torin running barefoot through the snow, a tiny figure against the vast white landscape. The relief of it made hot tears spill down my cheeks.

But before I could make my slow, uneven flight closer to him, a hand clamped tightly around my ankle, and Moria ripped me out of the air.

I landed hard on my back, wincing at the excruciating pain running through my wing bones. Fear climbed up my throat. Now I really wouldn’t be able to fly away from her.

As her eyes locked on me, she bared her fangs. Frantically, I tried to push up on my elbows, but in the next moment, her vampiric fangs were tearing at my throat. Terror spiraled through me as a corrosive toxin spilled into my body, making my muscles lock. It burned, eating at me from the inside.

My gaze swiveled to the dark trees above us. I summoned one of the branches. It reached through the air, a jagged, beckoning finger that curled around Moria’s waist and plucked her off me. My hand went to my throat as the poison pulsed through my blood.

Moria snarled, struggling against the branches. My blood dripped down her body to the snow, spattering the white as she wrestled with the bough twisted around her. “Demon!”

Dazed, I tried to stand. Scarlet droplets fell to the snow from the wound in my neck, and I wasn’t sure I had the strength to stand for long.

“It is my job,” Moria yelled, “to protect my kingdom from demons. People think a woman like me can’t do it? It is my job to show them that I can. My Sinach! Burn the traitors.”

My chest tightened.

Where it lay trapped, the dragon reared its head. I staggered back, bracing for fire, but it wasn’t looking at me.

The dragon’s glowing red gaze was on Torin.

I shouted his name and tried to take flight again. Pain spiked through my wing, and I fell back onto the snow, dizzy from blood loss.

The dragon’s fire roasted the air, a searing heat that I could feel from here, but Torin met the blast with an icy gale that ripped across the frozen landscape. His magic stung my skin. My teeth chattered, and my hands pressed into the snow—two red handprints against the pristine white. Blood spilled from my ripped throat.

Moria tore free from the branches, screaming for Modron, her voice ragged with hysteria. Leaning into the bitter wind, she pulled her cloak tight and headed for Torin.

I needed to fight her—Torin couldn’t fight two monsters at once—but I could hardly stand. Dizzily, I staggered to my feet again.

And yet, my magic was powerful. I should be able to heal myself. That’s what Morgant had told me.

I touched my ravaged throat and closed my eyes, envisioning the starkly beautiful face of my brother, the healer and bone crusher. Maybe I couldn’t heal others like he could, but I should be able to heal myself. My vision blurred.

I looked down at my palm smeared with blood and snow and pictured Morgant’s magic on my back. When he’d pulled the infection from my shoulder blades, it had felt like warm water trickling down my skin. As I recalled the feeling, magic crawled over my skin. Slowly, strength pulsed into my muscles, and the skin at my throat closed.

In my mind’s eye, I saw the gnarled blue tree where I was born, its boughs burdened by the weight of the castle.

It had all been a test. Mab had wanted to make sure I was strong enough to kill my enemies. Love was a forge—viciously painful, but it made us stronger nonetheless.

I burn for him.

Power coursed through my blood as the gash in my neck healed and the pain in my cracked wing ebbed.

I searched the snowstorm for Torin, and my heart went still in my chest. Moria had leaped on top of him, her fangs sunk into his throat.