Because of him, I’d lost my homelands.
Because of him, my brother died and my sister was missing.
Because of him, I’d doomed this world with frostbrood and brought war here.
Because of him, I’d met a shining elf and misplaced my heart.
“I’ll destroy you,” I growled, vitriol in every syllable.
This wasn’t a time for foolish infatuations, but a time for blood. There would be war in Quintrealm again. Aidan wouldn’t fall so easily, his power already great. But he wasn’t infallible.
I’ll break you.
Let Paris and Caer do what they had to do. I would gather my army and stalk the nights, destroying every Aidan-touched thing until I saw him crumble.
But his kiss, his touch, his everything.
Another wave of agonizing want hit me, which only encouraged my anger.
Balling my fists, I fortified myself against desire. It was my enemy now, a weakness.
No more pining.
No more mourning.
“Let the war begin,” I said.
A quake drew my attention to the waterborne frostbrood in the water.
When did it appear?
Vaughn ran onto the causeway in a state of panic. “Majesty! The waterborne?—”
Hurried footsteps sounded in the room beneath me, a chorus of voices tearing through the night.
I stood, watching the mortals and my people take action, sirens screaming their warnings.
“It’s the frostbrood!” Vaughn bellowed. “Its fucking eyes are gold!”
As if existing inside a vortex of delayed responses, I noticed those eyes then.
I launched into the air, returning to my chambers.
Honeyed blood stained the balcony floor.
“Paris?” I crouched, touching the precious liquid.
“He’s missing,” Medusa said behind me.
“Aidan,” I growled. “He?—”
The room shook violently and the frostbrood rose from the ocean.
It stretched taller than the palace, a serpent made of glacial blue ice spikes with jaws big enough to swallow a ship.
Two icy tentacles flickered back and forth from its head, a beard-like expanse of spiked skin flapping beneath its neck.
“By Selene,” Medusa spoke.
