Melting the Snow King's Heart

Chapter 3: Confrontation

The forest was quiet. No birds, no little critters running in the trees, not even a buzzing insect. It wasn't unusual, after a solar celebration, for the magic in the woods to be depleted. Another unfortunate side effect of the dwindling power in Autumn Forest.

Illyra sat on the ground, skirts spread around her, running her fingers along the petals of a red rose. Humming softly to herself, she plucked one of the petals off and held the delicate item in the palm of her hand. Illyra smiled and blew on the petal, sparks flickering around the edge of the petal and lifting it off her palm, the wind carrying it away.

The silence broke with a snapping twig. Illyra's spine stiffened and she glanced from side to side, looking out of her peripheral vision. Her ears pricked but no other sound filtered through the trees. Illyra resumed her humming and spread her hands down her skirts, smoothing the wrinkles in the fabric.

She knew she wasn't supposed to be using her magic so openly. Most of the other fae in her kingdom felt just as drained as the forest after such a celebration. As the Leaf Princess, she had access to much stronger magic. It was hard not to express herself when she thought she was alone, especially when she had to spend so much time pretending to be something she wasn't.

From between the trees, a young fawn stepped out. Thin, spindly legs stepping carefully around roots and sticks. The fawn's wet, black nose wiggled back and forth, big brown ears flapping back and forth.

Illyra smiled and held her hand out. “Are you the one sneaking around and making all that noise?"

The fawn sniffed her hand and then dropped down onto its front knees like it was bowing to her. Illyra ran her hand down the fawn's back, counting the little white dots that covered its back. The fawn dropped all the way to the ground and lay on its side for Illyra to rub its belly. She giggled and stroked the soft fur.

A gust of wind blew from behind her, a cold wind. Illyra shuddered, feeling prickles of cold water on her back, like snowflakes that melted on her skin. Snow in Autumn Forest had only happened once before.

Illyra jumped to her feet, the fawn squealing and stumbling clumsily off into the woods. The princess slowly turned to face the source of the cold. A winter fae with silver hair pulled back in a ponytail, dressed in battle armor, stood in the shadow of a tree.

His hand rested on the pommel of his broadsword, hanging from his belt. The soldier's sapphire blue eyes examined the fingernails on his other hand. Broad chested and well-muscled.

“Snow soldier, what business do you have in this realm?" Illyra asked putting her hands on her hips. She was grateful that she had put makeup on before leaving the house.

“Reconnaissance," he drawled casually.

“And what is it that you're looking for?" she asked. Snow soldiers passed through the borders now and then. She'd seen them in small groups but the barrier spell prevented them from moving in with larger numbers.

“That is not your concern. The snow army runs many operations through these lands without the autumn faes' knowledge. They are, after all, unruled," he said flipping his thumb against his forefinger.

“Well, then, be on your way," Illyra waved off in a random direction.

“Perhaps you can answer some questions for me," the winter soldier called when Illyra turned to leave.

“What could I know of your operations? I'm an autumn fae," she pointed out, arching an eyebrow.

The snow soldier smiled wryly. “Clever," he mused, blinking one, long, slow blink.

“Am I free to go, or are you going to assert some kind of jurisdiction over me?" she asked, crossing her arms.

“We're looking for someone. Probably about your age, an autumn fae with a purple leaf birthmark around her eyes," he explained. “You know more autumn fae than I do, I'm sure."

Illyra c****d her head. Her skin crawled, but she grabbed her left arm, steadying herself. She'd prepared her whole life for the snow soldiers to come after her. Now one stood right in front of her, asking for her by her birthmarks. He'd know that any autumn fae would recognize the description of that birthmark as royalty.

“A member of the Autumn Court?" she scoffed. “They all died fifteen years ago."

“Is that so?" the soldier asked.

“That's what our history teaches us. Take a look around. Listen to how quiet the forest is. The magic here has been failing, isn't that indication enough?" she asked, holding her arms out to the sides.

“I had not noticed how quiet it was," the soldier admitted, tilting his head like he was listening.

Illyra lowered her arms. As an outsider to her country, she hadn't expected a winter fae to understand the lifeforce of the forest, but she was suddenly self-conscious in thinking that she'd overplayed her hand. Would other autumn fae be as attuned to the forest as she was, or was that a byproduct of her royal bloodline?

“You don't live here. You're not familiar with the rhythms of the forest," she pointed out.

“No, I suppose not," the winter fae sighed.

“I'm sorry I can't help you. May I go?" Illyra asked putting her hands on her hips again. She glared, but inside her heart raced. She couldn't get away from this guy fast enough.

“Go," the soldier said, flicking his wrist.

Illyra collected her skirts and walked into the forest, as poised and delicately as she possibly could. The moment she felt she was beyond his sight, she ran. Kicking up dirt, Illyra ran deeper into the woods, her lungs burning with hot air, calves aching.

That soldier knew more than he was letting on. She doubted a winter fae in pursuit of her bloodline would so blatantly mention her birthmark unless he thought she was who he was after. Illyra ran in the opposite direction of her home. She wasn't going to lead the snow soldiers to her doorstep. Only once she was sure she wasn't being followed she'd risk going home.

Illyra came to the edge of the forest, a great cliff dropping off where the trees ended. She stopped running, throwing her arms around a tree, her chest heaving as she tried to draw more air into her lungs. Tears pricked her eyes. Her legs trembled until her knees buckled and she fell at the roots of the tree, pressing her forehead into the soft earth. She sobbed silently, hands tightening around the great tree's roots, shoulders trembling.

They'd come into her forest, tracked her down. They were watching her. The safety of hiding in plain sight was no longer enough. Illyra had to run. She had to leave Calista and hide deeper in the woods, live on her own, disappear until the threat had passed.

“This can't be happening," she whispered to the wind.

Quickly drying her eyes Illyra sat back on her knees. The wind howled out of the chasm that separated her kingdom from Winter Mountain. Across the great divide, icy mountains rose into gray storm clouds. Her enemy was so close, just a stone's throw across the great chasm, and now roaming through her forest.

She couldn't sacrifice herself as her family had, or her country would truly die. She couldn't leave her country and hide in one of the other kingdoms, or her land would dry up of magic and die.

There was nowhere safe for her to go.