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Calum moved on instinct. No one had a chance to react before Calum picked up the heavy claymore like it weighed nothing and pressed it to Eòin’s throat. Calum put the slightest bit of pressure on the sword until a thin, black line of blood dripped down the blade’s edge.
The Unseelie fae behind Eòin picked up their arms and aimed their bows, now pointing directly at…Fern. Her palms started to sweat, her own magic running underneath her skin like it didn’t know where to go.
Eòin turned to look Calum directly in the eye, pushing against the sword edge on his own accord. Calum’s gaze flickered briefly to Fern before he turned back to Eòin, his arms shaking with restraint as he let out an animalistic roar.
“Let me go, or she dies.” Eòin shrugged, completely unaffected as if there wasn’t a sword at his throat. “In fact, let me go and surrender the Seelie court to me, or she dies.”
Fern’s blood ran cold. Calum’s face was twisted in rage and Fern could see his entire body was shaking with restraint. He turned to Fern and for the first time, she recognized the fear in his eyes.
Fern steeled her racing heart and took a deep breath, feeling the warm glow of magic running through her system. She summoned all the courage within her, calling out to the ancestors that lived in her blood.
Fern’s eyes were watery, and she tried to stop it, but she sounded choked up when she spoke. “Calum, I won’t let you do this for me.”
She offered him a weak smile and watched Calum’s fear turn to horror. They were in the middle of a standoff that was growing more intense by the minute, every eye turned to look at them.
“Absolutely not. Fern, I forbid it! As your prince and your fucking advisor!”
Fern laughed softly at that before it turned into tears. “Do it for your sister.”
Calum shouted in anguish, echoing off the buildings around them and nearly splitting the sky in two. Power ripped from his body, and Fern took one last look at him, determined to make Calum the last thing she saw.
She closed her eyes as both sides erupted in a cacophony of angry shouts and battle cries, descending on each other while the princes were in a deadlock. Fern waited for any number of the Unseelie weapons to hit their target on Eòin’s signal…but none came.
As quickly as it began, everything went silent.
A deep, bone-chilling cold descended over the small street. Fern’s eyes flew open as she looked around in panic for the cause of the disturbance.
Everyone around her was frozen where they stood. A light covering of frost coated their bodies, and no one moved. Eòin and Calum were locked in a deadly embrace, their swords mid-strike. Eòin’s men were dismounting from their horses, and one had fired an arrow in Fern’s direction, which now hung in midair.
Even Mara, Emmett, the other wulver, and the small group of fae soldiers were immobile. Emmett had conjured a battle axe from somewhere, while Mara was smiling at the approaching enemy in a manner that could only be described as seductive.
The frost continued to spread out over the ground, and it started to snow. Fern shivered as a new wave of power rolled over her, one that was stronger than anything she’d experienced. It smelled like berries and pine.
“Relax, Fern. You’ve done well.” A soft, ethereal voice cut through the crisp air. Fern jumped and turned around, looking for its source.
A tall, graceful woman was slowly descending from the library’s front steps. She was emanating a blue glow that shifted as she walked, like snow in the moonlight. Her blonde hair tumbled down her back while small antlers, twigs, and sprigs of holly circled her head like a crown. As she got closer, Fern realized it wasn’t a crown; it was growing from her skull.
She was wearing a dress in varying shades of white and silver, with a heavy, white fox-fur cloak around her shoulders. There was a veil that covered her face, obscuring her features from view. The air around the mysterious woman was so strong, Fern knew she wasn’t dealing with a fae or even a spirit.
“Oh my god.” Fern was awestruck as the woman approached her. She racked her brain for legends until she remembered only one that fit the bill. “You’re Beira.”
Holy fuck, it’s the goddess of winter.
The goddess of winter might have been a secondary title amongst other pantheons, but in Scotland, Beira was ultimate source of both creative and destructive energy. When Beira was reunited with her lover at the end of each cold season, she transformed into the goddess of spring.
“You’re as smart as they say,” Beira smiled from beneath her veil. “Gweyir would’ve been very proud of you.”
Fern’s mouth dropped open. “You… you knew her?”
“Of course, child. Who do you think works with the goddesses?”
“Witches,” Fern said on an exhale.
“There’s been precious few of them around as of late,” Beira’s clicked her tongue disapprovingly, “but I believe those times are coming to an end.”
Fern thought she might pass out. “Were you the one who broke the curse? It was you then, wasn’t it?” The questions started flying out of Fern as she realized deities had now been added to the mix. “Why didn’t you break it before—”
“Careful.” Beira held up a hand and a fierce wind blew through the street in warning. Fern’s mouth clamped shut.
