Protect the Prince (Crown of Shards #2)(104)

“Because I love you,” he declared. “And I know that you love me too.”

My mother’s eyes widened again, and she tore her hands out of his. “I love Jarl, my husband! Not you! Why would you ever think that?”

“Because you were always smiling at me, and talking to me, and laughing at my jokes,” Ansel said. “I knew that you loved me, even if you couldn’t show it whenever your idiot husband was around.”

My mother sucked in a ragged breath and swayed on her feet. “You . . . you handed Jarl that glass of wine. You poisoned him. You killed him.”

“I did it for us!” Ansel yelled, his voice rising to a near scream. “So we could finally be together!”

His voice boomed through the woods loud enough to make the owls nestled in the snowy trees squawk and take flight. My heart pounded, even as my stomach twisted itself into hard knots.

Ansel had murdered my father so he could . . . what? Be with my mother? Or whatever sick, twisted fantasy he’d invented in his head? Part of me didn’t want to know the answer.

Anger burned in my mother’s gray-blue eyes, and her lips curled up in disgust. She glared at him, then dropped her gaze, as if she couldn’t stand to look at him anymore. She froze, as if something had caught her eye. Then she surged forward, reached out, and tore the bronze pocket watch off his vest.

She looked at the fancy cursive M engraved in the metal. The symbol must have meant something to her, because she held the watch out to him.

“You’re one of them,” she said, spitting out the last word. “You’re a fucking Mortan.”

Ansel grimaced, but he didn’t deny it. My mother gave him another disgusted look, then threw the watch at him. It bounced off his chest and dropped into the snow.

“You have to come with me, Leighton,” Ansel said, pleading with her. “I’m trying to save you.”

She shook her head and stepped away from him. “You murdered my husband,” she hissed. “I’m not going anywhere with you!”

Then her eyes narrowed, and she actually smiled, as if something about this whole horrible situation pleased her. “Your relatives won’t be happy you’ve betrayed them. They’ll come for you, and they’ll give you all the horrors you deserve.”

“No, we certainly are not happy about that,” another voice murmured. “And you’re right. Ansel is going to regret betraying us.”

The three of us whirled around. The magier in the midnight-purple cloak was standing in the clearing. Her hood was down, revealing her blond hair and bright, eerie purple eyes, and a ball of cold lightning crackled in her palm.

My mother lurched forward, putting herself in between the magier and me.

Ansel wet his lips, held his hands out in front of him in supplication, and tiptoed forward. “Marisse, wait, let me explain—”

Marisse snapped up her hand and blasted him with her magic. Purple hailstones mixed with cold lightning streaked through the clearing and slammed into Ansel’s chest, cutting into and then freezing him where he stood. He screamed and screamed, but there was nothing he could do. A few seconds later, he dropped to the ground, with several hailstones sticking out of his chest like knives and his eyes bulging like glassy marbles in his frozen face.

Marisse stared down at Ansel, then shook her head. “Ansel always was weak and foolish. I can’t believe he thought that he could save you, or that you would willingly go with him after he murdered your husband.” She shrugged. “But love makes us do stupid things, doesn’t it?”

My mother didn’t answer, but I could smell her lemony worry. My nose twitched. I could also smell the cold, crisp scent of my mother’s magic as she reached for it, gathering it up and up inside her. I did the same with my immunity.

“And now, Winter queen,” Marisse hissed, “it’s time for you to die, along with your precious daughter—”

Blue light flashed to life in my mother’s palm, and she snapped up her hand and threw her magic at the other woman. The light split apart and sharpened into long, jagged needles of ice. Hope filled my chest. All we needed was one needle to skewer the magier, and we could escape.

But Marisse unleashed her own magic. Her purple hailstones blasted apart my mother’s blue needles, and all the pieces of ice crashed together and shattered in midair.

“Run, Evie!” my mother screamed, even as she raised her hand for another attack. “Run!”

But I never got the chance. Marisse was faster than my mother, and she snapped up her hands, unleashing more of her sharp, deadly hailstones, along with bolts of cold lightning. My mother pushed back with her own power, but one of the hailstones slipped past her defenses and slammed into her chest, spinning her around.

Her hot, sticky blood spattered onto my face.

I hissed, jerked back, and slapped my hand to my cheek before pulling it away. I stared down in horror at the scarlet specks staining my fingertips, at the awful sight of my mother’s blood on my own skin. Then, determination filled me, overcoming my fear and panic. I’d already lost my father to these Mortan bastards. I wasn’t losing my mother too, even though I had no idea how I could save her or myself.

But it was already too late.

My mother staggered forward, and I realized that Marisse’s hailstone had plunged into her heart like an amethyst dagger. Blood gushed out of the wound, staining the purple ice an ugly, mottled brown.