Heart of Ice (The Snow Queen #1)(65)

No.

Rakel’s magic flooded her system, and she created a sword of ice, almost trembling in relief when she could feel it.

The reassurance flew away, though, as she realized her dire situation. She could use her powers, but she couldn’t see anything. She had no real idea of what her magic was doing, and thus, no way to control it.

Although her breath came faster and faster, she couldn’t get enough air. Her heart was too weak to pulse.

She was cut off from everyone and couldn’t properly use her magic. She was powerless.

“No. No!” Rakel screamed, her panic increasing at the silence of her own voice. Her magic erupted. She knew in her fright that ice snapped from the ground and coated the area, but she couldn’t see it, nor could she hear it.

It made the darkness that much more terrifying. She whimpered and backed up until her body touched ice. A warm hand found her.

“Get away!” Rakel shouted, her magic ripping from her. The temperature fell, but all her panicked mind knew was darkness and silence…until something moved.

It wasn’t so much that she could see it as she could sense it. It was an evil presence, one so vile its nearness choked her.

“No!” Rakel screamed. Her magic surged, and she pushed it out from her.

Whatever the presence was, her magic didn’t affect it. It strolled around her, sauntering closer—like a predator circling wounded prey.

Rakel pushed more and more of her magic into the surrounding area. She created ice daggers in her panic—though she couldn’t see them—and pelted them into the ground around her. Several hit her, drawing pain.

The thing grew larger, stirring air as it laughed noiselessly.

She screamed, throwing out as much of her magic as she could.

A smaller hand grabbed her arm. Rakel recoiled and would have blasted it with her magic, but something metal was thrust into her hands. Her fingers traced it, and she recognized the ugly bug-like shape through touch alone.

“Phile?” Rakel asked, shivering so much her teeth chattered.

Phile hugged her. Her warmth and her familiar scent of gingerbread briefly drove away whatever it was that shared the darkness with Rakel.

When Phile pulled back, she took Rakel’s wrists and placed her hands on a warm, solid, breathing surface.

The thing slithered behind her, and Rakel whipped around. “Phile,” she whispered, still unable to hear her own voice. “There’s something here with me.”

Whoever held her pulled Rakel until her back was flush against their chest.

Rakel struggled, but the new person placed one of her hands on the hilt of a sword that thrummed with power. “F-Farrin?”

Farrin held her, his grasp gentle.

Rakel trembled like a leaf in a windstorm as whatever it was—she still couldn’t sense a shape—reached out and grasped her throat. She choked, scratching at her neck, searching for fingers that weren’t there.

Her magic exploded—surging to protect her from the threat. She knocked Farrin away—his warmth disappeared like a lamp being blown out—but the thing remained. It grew harder and harder to breathe.

When she couldn’t bear it anymore and thought her lungs would collapse, someone clasped her limp hands.

“Princess!”

The darkness shattered; the presence evaporated; Rakel took in gasps, the cold air grating her raw lungs. Liv—gazing into Rakel’s starved eyes like the most beautiful thing in the world—squeezed her hands and searched Rakel’s face. “Can you hear me?”

Rakel nodded and kept gasping as she sagged to her knees.

Liv knelt with her and wrapped an arm around her. “Princess, I’m so glad.”

“Little Wolf,” Phile said, dropping to the ground next to them. She sported a few cuts and was a little out of breath, but her smile was just as easy as ever.

The three of them sat huddled for a moment, and Rakel recovered her wits enough to look around her.

She was still in the east flower gardens—or what used to be the flower gardens. Trees were coated with inches of ice—the smallest were encased like bugs floating in tree sap. Most of the hedges had been savagely ripped apart by glaciers and ice spikes as big as cottages. It was cold—cold enough that Rakel suspected it was uncomfortable for Liv and Phile to breathe—and the palace was glazed with ice. Ice swords were impaled in the ground, and some of the paths had bowed and buckled so badly under the pressure of Rakel’s ice that they resembled stairs more than a path.

“What happened?” Farrin asked.

Phile leaped to her feet, standing protectively in front of Rakel, but she needn’t bother. When Rakel had hit him with her last wave of power, she had slammed him into a glacier with such power, his body left a dent. He was moving slowly, shedding bits of ice.

It took Rakel a few tries until her vocal chords worked. “Shouldn’t you already know? You must have approved of the plan.”

Farrin scowled. “Whatever it was that scared you so badly it made you do this, I certainly did not—”

Before he could finish his sentence, Rakel slammed him back into the glacier with another block of ice.

Phile jumped and Liv squeaked in surprise. Farrin groaned.

“Nice work, Little Wolf! You need to take your cheap shots whenever you can,” Phile laughed.

Rakel wasn’t paying attention to her friends; she was struggling to stand and keep her eyes on a pretty woman with chestnut hair peeking from behind a short wall. “You,” she growled.