Eternal fabled hunters b.., p.1
Eternal (Fabled Hunters Book 3), page 1
My love for you is everlasting. Immortal. Eternal.
Table of Contents
Glacia
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Silvan
About the Author
Glacia
Darkness swirls across the surface of the mirror, throbbing like a giant heartbeat. Pulsing, pounding, drawing me in. I could watch the mirror forever, sometimes I feel like I have. Such sweet darkness, wrapping me in oblivion.
Taking a deep breath, I pull my gaze from it. Not yet. I can’t succumb yet. Silvan is still out there. Resisting me. Denying me.
I rub at my neck. An eternity later, and I can still feel his fingers closing around my throat, his touch burning into my skin. So much pain.
All my gowns have a high neck, hiding the scars he put there. I swallow, feeling rising panic at the memory. My love. My life. My everything . . . and he tried to murder me.
That wasn’t how it was supposed to end. Fairy tale heroes don’t try murder the love of their lives. And he had the audacity to call me insane. He’s the crazy one.
I peer nervously into the shadows of the icy pillars that line the long hall. With time, he’ll succumb to the curse. Then he’ll be mine, both body and soul.
Body. I shiver, biting back a giggle. I’ve waited this long, what’s another few months?
A thread of enchantment ripples across my skin, and I grin widely, unable to hide my elation.
Jack Frost approaches.
I turn back to the mirror, willing it to show me the tall redheaded man. He’s walking through the tall gates of the castle that I always leave open. Why close the gates when there isn’t a force in the cosmos that can kill you?
Except Silvan. I shudder again, licking my lips. He won’t. He might try, but he hasn’t been able to find me, and his curse is becoming too strong for him to control. He can’t defeat me.
I watch through the mirror as the young man draws closer. He looks pale. Frozen. I smirk. He’ll be cold for as long as he lives. Some curses have no cure. No release.
Except through death. The thought brings Silvan to mind, and I shiver, firmly put thoughts of him away.
As Jack enters the long, icy hall, I turn to face him. He looks even paler in person than in the mirror. I wonder if he would have accepted his fate willingly if he’d known that he was trading his life for his elemental abilities. Looking into his rage-filled eyes, I’m quite certain he would have.
“Jack.” I flick my fingers and a throne of ice forms behind me. I sit, arranging my pale skirts, pretending I don’t care for anything he has to say.
“My queen.” The man kneels and I sniff. At least he knows to show proper respect. “It is done,” he says. “Winter has settled over Illyminatym, weakening their defensive barriers. Their king is not dead like I initially planned, but his daughter is dead, which works just as well.” His mouth twists and I wonder why. Does he regret hurting the girl? Surely not. He can’t be so weak. Still . . . I must test him.
“The princess still lives,” I say truthfully. “She was protected by a spell put on her when she was a baby.” I watch him closely, studying his face for any sign of a reaction. “It activated when your magic attacked her body.”
Jack nods, unsuccessfully trying to hide his relief. Such a weakling.
“But what of the Hunter? Isabelle.” I lounge back in my throne, tapping the side of my face idly, as if I don’t have a care in the world. But I do. Sometimes I feel like I carry the world and all its cares. Such a heavy responsibility.
Jack swallows, his gaze dropping. “She is dead, my queen. I killed her, just as you commanded.”
I clench my fists, trying to swallow my rage. He is lying. Jack just lied to me. How could he? After all the power I’ve given him.
I tilt my head to the side. “Oh? How did you kill her?”
“I stabbed her. In the heart.” Jack shrugs, as if bored with the topic. “She knifed me in the tournament. It seemed a fitting way for her to go.”
“I see.” I stare down at him, my fingers now drumming against the throne’s armrests. “Are you loyal to me, dear Jack?”
Jack frowns. He could be considered handsome, beautiful, even, except I compare him to Silvan. I compare all men to Silvan, and all have fallen short. “Of course,” he replies.
“What do you see behind me?” I ask abruptly.
Jack peers behind me for a moment, his green gaze flickering past my throne. “A mirror, my queen.”
“Yes.” I draw the word out in a hiss, relishing the anticipation of what is to come. “It’s a magic mirror. It shows me anything I want. Anything at all.”
Jack nods, mild interest in his features. Until what I’ve just said sinks in, and his eyes widen in alarm, his face paling further. “Anything?”
“You heard me, Jack.” My fingers stop their staccato dance. “I’ll ask you again: is Isabelle dead?”
Jack swallows, clearly unnerved as he considers the implication of my words. I can almost see him weighing his options and the potential risks. His back stiffens as he looks me square in the eye. “Yes. Yes, she is.”
Fool.
I stand and walk to him. He rises to meet me, watching me approach, his body tense, like a coiled spring. I want to laugh hysterically and scream my rage. I settle for slapping him across the face as hard as I can.
Jack keeps his expression impassive. I smack him again. He does nothing to resist. He doesn’t even flinch. “How dare you lie to me?” I hiss. “I saw you. I saw you leave Illyminatym, Jack, and the girl was very much alive. Why didn’t you obey me?”
If he says it’s because he loves her, I’ll kill him, right here, right now. He looks down at me, both cheekbones flushed; blood rising where I hit him. “I don’t know,” he says softly.
He is telling the truth this time. I can see the pain in his eyes.
So, he’s still useful. My gaze wanders over his body. He’s tall, lean and strong. Brilliant red hair, gorgeous green eyes. Handsome enough to have any woman he might set his sights on. What does he see in that foolish girl? I don’t know, but the thought is enough to send jealousy skittering white-hot through my body. She’s wrapped both Silvan and Jack around her little fingers. Maybe I don’t want Jack to kill the girl. I think I might like to kill her myself. What does Silvan see in her? What? I would have given him anything.
My neck hurts. It always does when I think of him, like my throat is still on fire, like he’s still strangling me. I scratch at it absently through the thin fabric of my gown, still eyeing the man in front of me.
“Kiss me, Jack,” I say, and the man starts in surprise.
“My queen?”
“Jack.” I reach up, intending to tangle my fingers in that wonderful hair of his. I’m not able to keep the anger from my face as he tries to move away, incredulity painted in his features.
“Don’t shy from me,” I snarl, my fingers tightening in his hair.
He looks well and truly alarmed. “Will your kiss free me from my curse?” he asks hesitantly.
I laugh, and release my hold, only to grab him by his shirt collar, weaving wind to push him to me. “Certainly not. I’m not that cruel.” I kiss his throat, my mouth slowly moving up to his jawline. “Your curse adds a facet to your character.” I kiss him between words. “You’re more interesting this way.” I feel a stirring of guilt, but I ignore it. I’m saving myself for Silvan, but what’s a few kisses with someone else in the meantime?
Jack’s muscles tense as if he’s about to resist. I slam my magic into him and he gasps, unable to resist the overload of enchantment coursing through his blood. I kiss him roughly on the mouth.
His curse shudders through him, responding in turn. He’s never had a true love’s first kiss . . .
If I have anything to do with it, he never will.
1
Snow, feather light and cold, floated gently upward, rising into the star-studded sky. Isabelle accepted it without question, trudging through the knee-deep snow. She was looking for someone, but she couldn’t remember who, or why.
I’m being watched. Something dark drifted at the edge of her vision, but when she turned to look, nothing was there.
She tugged her red cloak around herself, blocking out the worst of the chill. The wind that blew across the snow-covered plains was erratic, sometimes drifting away into obscurity, only to come howling back with such force it almost knocked her off her feet.
&nb
sp; Where is he? Isabelle blinked snow from her lashes, peering into the gloom. She kept walking, head swiveling as she searched.
The snowy landscape was still and unbroken, nothing marring its face. Isabelle appeared to be the only living thing for miles around. She didn’t even see the tracks of a deer or—there! A rabbit bounded away, its white coat blending with its surroundings.
The hairs prickled on the back of Isabelle's neck, the feeling of being watched again. Unslinging her bow, Isabelle spun around, nocking an arrow to the string, body humming with energy as she prepared to shoot.
Nothing. Isabelle exhaled with relief, relaxing. Just her imagination, then.
She barely had time to inhale when something grabbed her from behind, arms wrapping around her like iron bands. “You lose,” a voice whispered, breath tickling her ear.
Isabelle sat bolt upright in bed, her breath coming in shuddering gasps. She tried to recall her dream, but it was already fading from her memory, like trying holding water in her hands.
She lay down again. It’d been cold. Something to do with snow. And something dangerous. Something evil. She shuddered and, pushing her blankets aside, sat up. She didn’t want to sleep after all.
Walking across the room to her window, she peered out. She guessed it was past midnight, but it was snowing, making it impossible to see the moon. The thick clouds were a dull gray, faintly glowing from the light of the city. It was never truly dark here.
She leaned against the windowsill, chin in a palm. She hoped Jack was safe.
Isabelle had spent the past several weeks working as a servant in the palace, trying to lift her suspension from her position as a Fabled Hunter. The king had condemned her after it was brought to light that she’d aided Silvan in escaping prison. Isabelle had been assigned to work for a noblewoman named Ilysa. She’d been a nightmare to work with, and Isabelle had begun to think that she’d never be a Hunter again . . . until Jack. The redheaded man had held plans of conquering Illyminatym, but dismissed those plans when given the opportunity to help Isabelle.
Why? She bit her lip as the question flitted across her mind. She knew why. Because despite what she’d done, Jack still loved her.
Does he? Now that he knows you kissed Silvan? She wasn’t sure anymore.
Lifting her hand, Isabelle touched the windowpane, fingertips spread. It was icy cold to the touch. She shivered, hugging herself. It was because of Jack that she'd had her honor restored when she did. More than restored. The king had praised her in front of half the nobles in Illyminatym, and now all the Fabled Hunters treated her as an equal. She was no longer trained as a Hunter trainee, she was truly accepted as one of their own. She couldn’t have managed it in as spectacular a manner as she did without Jack’s help.
But when Jack had discovered she’d kissed Silvan, his rage had unleashed his curse. Animal-Rage. He’d thrown a knife imbued with frost magic, trying to kill the king, but the princess had leaped to her father’s defense, taking the knife instead. It should have killed her, but the princess was now lying in an enchanted sleep. How that was possible, Isabelle didn’t know.
Now Jack was gone, and the city’s magical defenses were failing. Every mage and every Hunter with even a scrap of magical ability were pooling their power into keeping the city safe.
She sighed in vexation and made her way back to bed, willing her mind to stillness. She could feel . . . magic, being worked all over the city. The feeling had been growing ever since Jack left, and Isabelle idly wondered if anyone else could feel the enchantment, pushing on their minds, seeping into their skin. She could also feel a thread of magic far to the north; cold, icy magic. It felt familiar, somehow. She’d never noticed the feeling before. She suspected it was because so much enchantment was at work. Maybe everyone could feel it.
She yawned, settling under her blanket. This waiting made her feel so useless. She watched the snow, missing her family, missing Jack, missing Silvan.
Silvan. The man had disappeared into the woods, with the reassurance that he would be there when she needed him. Isabelle didn't doubt his word, but she wished he'd stayed here with her.
2
“I’m here as you commanded, my king.” Isabelle paused in the doorway, surveying the scene before her. Princess Charlotte lay in bed, eyes closed as if asleep, her face peaceful and still. Except she wouldn’t wake. Isabelle’s stomach twisted at the sight of King Ruald, sitting at the bedside, head bowed in grief as he watched over his daughter.
“Has she stirred at all?” Isabelle asked impulsively, stepping into the room.
The king looked up, his eyes wet with tears. Isabelle stared back. She’d never seen the king so emotionally compromised. She’d seen him exasperated, stern, even angry, but not sad. Not broken.
“I need your help, Isabelle,” the king said wearily. He scrubbed the tears from his eyes with his free hand, the other gently grasping his daughter’s hand.
“You have only to ask, my king.” Isabelle mentally grimaced. She sounded stuffy, but her suspension had only been lifted a few days before at the masquerade ball, and she didn’t want to land herself in hot water again. She would be the perfect Fabled Hunter.
The king nodded and turned back to look at his daughter again, his dark face lined with anxiety. Isabelle felt a pang of sadness, but curiosity as well. Why did the princess still sleep?
“When Charlotte was a baby,” King Ruald said, as if reading her thoughts, “she was given a gift. A fairy cast a spell on her. A spell of Life.”
Isabelle tilted her head, hearing the capital in ‘Life.’ “My king?”
“It a spell of protection,” the king said, his gaze still on the frail figure of his child. “Very difficult to perform and very, very powerful. Charlotte is my child, but she’s also the only heir of the kingdom. I didn’t want to take any chances losing her.”
Isabelle stayed silent, listening intently. She’d never heard of such magic, but knew her knowledge of enchantment was very limited.
The king ran a hand over his beard. He looked exhausted. “But something went wrong. When the spell activated, it should have merely negated any damage that could have occurred.” A compulsive shudder wracked his body. “The spell tangled with Jack Frost’s magic, putting Charlotte in an endless slumber.” His black eyes lifted, his gaze rooting Isabelle in place. “You must save her, Hunter Isabelle. The physicians cannot lift this sleep.” His face contorted. “I can't lift this sleep. Heaven knows I tried.”
“How can I help?” Isabelle blurted out, adding a tacked-on “your Majesty?”
“Find the water of life,” the king said, turning back to his daughter. “Find it, and return it to me. For Charlotte. For her people.” The king looked bleak. “She’s the hope of this kingdom, Isabelle.” A sob caught in his throat, and he hastily hid it in a cough. “But I don’t care about that right now. I just want my daughter back. I can’t lose her, too.”
Isabelle knew he was thinking about his wife. The queen had died several years ago, and while the king had come to grips with his loss, Isabelle could see the man’s pain as he watched over his child, his hands curled into fists.
“The water of life,” Isabelle said softly. “How do I find it?”
“Talk to the Head Mage, Erryl,” the king said. “If anyone can give you information about it, it’s him.”
“I will find it, my king.” She paused a moment before asking, “Can I take someone with me?”
King Ruald sighed heavily. “I can’t spare any of the other Hunters, Isabelle.” He gestured to a side table, a stack of papers perched precariously on it. “Reports are bleak. With the looming dangers of our failing defenses and a rise of beasts and monsters seen in the countryside around the city, I must think of my people and be the king they deserve. “He pinned Isabelle with a watery stare. “I’m not commanding you to find the water, I’m asking you.”
Isabelle nodded. “If you don’t have any objections, I will take a trusted friend of mine.”
“Of course.” The king said quickly, almost too quickly. “You mean your dragon friend.” He considered the request for a moment, then nodded. “You may. Tell him that he will be pardoned for all past crimes if he assists you in this quest.” He sighed. “He gave my Hunters the slip after the masquerade.”
Isabelle bowed quickly, hiding the wide grin that spread across her face. She realized the king wanted the strange shapeshifter to help. King Ruald never gave Silvan an official pardon for past misdeeds, being too distracted by his daughter’s enchanted slumber, but he had seen as well as anyone that Silvan meant no harm to those in the city. He knew if anyone could keep Isabelle safe in her travels, it was the dragon. “I will leave at once, my king.”
