Page 128 of Autumn Queens & Shadows

I’d only taken one step when the stench hit me.

Rotten. Sour.

The cold was doing nothing to hide it lingering in the air.

Craft—of a kind I wouldn’t like from the smell of it. The kind that Oryn had told me got Crafters excommunicated from their covens.

Covered in a long cloak, the Crafter tore through the billowing snowstorm. Stopping about one hundred feet away from me, he pulled the hood back to reveal a shaved, tattooed head, and an even worse tattooed face.

I clutched my silly little dagger and stepped closer to him as he kneeled and opened his mouth widely—letting a large snake crawl out of it.

Gagging, I held my stomach, feeling bile ready to attack the snake instead of my blade.

The black snake left a trail of tar behind, slowly making its way to me, and the putrid scent it carried made me feel sicker.

Despite my best effort to seem all in control of the situation, I backed away when it got closer, hiding back under the tree’s shade, my spine meeting the trunk.

“They sent you to kill me?”

He cocked his head to the side. “They sent me to get your heart.”

“I need that.”

“Iskyla needs it more. One bite and you can have it back. One bite is all she needs.”

“Wait,” I shouted, putting a hand forward, and he actually stopped, frowning at my extended limb and then up at the tree that was groaning and moaning at the sway of the wind. “Why? Why does she need my heart?”

“When you die, the land will die with you since the two are now as one.” He hummed to himself. “But you didn’t know that, did you?”

His snake continued circling the tree, not yet attacking me.

What was he talking about? “Know what?”

“Of your connection to winter, to the land, to the wind, and the heart buried below that has only just started beating again because of you. It is not difficult to tell. The winter creatures do not fear you. On the contrary, they see you as one of their own.” He pointed to the tree. “Nature bends to you and your will. You. Are. One. Body,” he said, his forked tongue slipping outside his mouth like a hissing snake.

I looked up, watching the tree’s branches twisting and crawling over me like they were limbs. Hells. Was he telling the truth? How? How had I—

Oh.

Ohhhh.

My magic. The seal. Land feeding from my magic. Land finally reviving after my father’s rule.

Oh.

The Crafter got closer, taking careful steps towards me as he narrowed his eyes on the space around us, watching and almost cautious of it. “You breathe, it breathes. Winter is no longer decaying its people and the land it has fallen upon like it was before when the kings before you reigned over it and slowly, bitterly and mercilessly began killing it.” His black forked tongue swept over his dried-up lips as he chuckled. “The Krigborn Queen with emerald eyes. Who else could it be?” he asked, his voice almost mocking.

The black snake shot in my direction, and the tree bent forward just as fast, trapping the animal between its branches. Grabbing hold of its slimy tail, I slashed the dagger through its body, parting it in half.

The Crafter hissed, one side of his face turning ashen and scaly.

A gag climbed my throat, and I bent down to wash my hand in the snow until the tar disappeared from my skin.

The Crafter’s hands twisted, and red, spoilt smelling magic surrounded him, lifting around in the shape of a small dome, ghastly and glowy hands rising from its surface and elongating like branches, heading towards me.

Dark shadows rose from all over and out of nowhere, thinning and towering over the Dark Crafter. Then they descended down on him, faster than anything I’d seen, collapsing against the veil of protection around him, his phantom red hands disappearing at the crash.

Both him and I spun to search our surroundings for the only one who was capable of such magic.