A Midsummer Night's Snow Read online

  She smiled, his charm taking her completely by surprise.

  He leaned against one of the thrones. “If I may ask, how did you come to be alone and without provisions or possessions?”

  “I was separated from my companions in the storm.” She did not offer more, and she was relieved when he did not ask.

  “We have a stable for your horse if you’d prefer. To shelter her from the snow.”

  She shook her head. “We come from the North. The Far North. Snow will be no bother to her.” Her gaze swept over the obsidian thrones, each crowned with the emblem of a lion’s head, a silver starburst behind it forming its mane. “You must forgive me if my curiosity has coarsened into common gawking. Your home ensnares my imagination.”

  “I have only just met you, my lady, but I don’t believe there is anything coarse or common about you.”

  She smiled, a blush bringing spots of warmth to her cheeks. “Such flattery.” It was unexpected. He was unexpected.

  “Somehow I doubt such compliments are foreign to you,” he said with a wry twinkle.

  “A lady is never immune to compliments,” she replied with a laugh. Her gaze swept up the rose-draped crystal staircase, its moonlight gleam muted from the cloudy skies beyond the crystal dome. A half-grown black kitten and a black and silver cat perched on the staircase peering down at them. “It’s a glittering world you have.”

  “I suppose it can be.”

  “The evening light feels different,” she said, tilting her head to one side, her lips slightly parted as she tasted the night air. “This is not a normal night, is it?”

  “It is not.” There was loathing in his gravelly voice, but he did not elaborate.

  It must be a form of curse night, she thought. Part of the kingdom's dark enchantment.

  “Still," she said, "a world all of night is a beautiful thing.”

  “So is a world of light,” he said softly.

  A slender ribbon of moonlight penetrated the clouds and shivered through the crystal crown. For one spectacular moment, the tower was bewitched by light, and the jewels in the walls and pillars, the flecks in the floor, and the entire magnificent staircase came to sparkling life like a night sky had just embraced them.

  Delea gasped, "Such magic!" She reached for the moonbeam, letting its gleam play across her skin. Almost at once it faded as the clouds masked the moon once more, and the light softened to a gauzy veil.

  “A world of night is a world of light," she said. "And during the day you cannot watch for falling stars or dance with the auroras.”

  “That is true enough,” he nodded. “Although we don’t see the auroras much here. The last one was when our eternal night fell. Black skies blushed red in a dancing wave.”

  “A red aurora?” she asked.

  He nodded. “Fae blood across the skies.”

  “That usually only happens when there’s a war,” she said thoughtfully, remembering the last time she’d witnessed one.

  “Or when a Fae is brokenhearted.”

  “Really?” Curiosity ruffled her serenity. “I have not heard that before.”

  He nodded. “I have never seen it done, but they say a Fae with a broken heart bleeds her grief into the sky as surely as if she had been stabbed with a warrior’s blade.”

  “How marvelous,” she murmured.

  His brow arched, and she quickly added with an embarrassed laugh, “And sad as well. I do not mean to make light of another’s suffering. I suppose I didn’t realize a Fae’s heart could break. They seem so…indestructible.”

  “Their hearts are fragile enough,” he said quietly.

  Winter suddenly came charging into the tower, eyes nearly frantic until they fell upon Delea. He skidded across the tower to her side, and she welcomed him with a smile and ruffled her fingers through his fur.

  “If you don’t mind me saying so," the lordly beast said, not bothering to conceal his surprise, "you have adjusted to our palace of monsters astonishingly well.”

  Delea laughed. “I have a snow leopard at home. And my home is surrounded by polar bears. So you see, ferocious creatures don’t put me out of sorts.”

  The Beast watched her with an incredulous sort of awe.

  “And if you travel far enough north,” she couldn’t help adding, “there are dragons.” She grinned and could feel the sparkle in her eyes as she mentioned them.

  The Beast shook his head slowly, his gaze taking her in.

  “I wish you had stumbled across us years earlier, Lady Delea of the North.”

  “As do I,” she responded, and she meant it.

  A wisp of snow came curling through the door, and the white lion pounced on it, sending up a dust cloud of dead rose petals. Delea laughed. The Beast fanned the dust from his face and gestured for the lion to be off. “Be gone with you,” he said gruffly, but Delea saw what she suspected to be a smile playing at the corners of his mouth as he took a moment to scratch the white lion behind one massive ear before playfully shoving him toward the doorway. Winter cast a wistful glance back at Delea before eagerly bounding off into the snowstorm.

  “You’ve joined us on a fortunate eve," the Beast said. "The festivities are just about to begin.”

  “Do you celebrate Yule here?” she asked.

  “Indeed. Every Yule the castle puts on a ball of sorts. A masquerade. We cannot partake the way we once could, but it reminds us of what our lives once were. Would you…that is, you are welcome to attend.” He hesitated. “Your company would be a gift. To all of us of course,” he added quickly.

  “It would bring me great delight to join you.”

  He smiled then, a terrible smile, his fangs glinting in the evening light. But to her surprise, she didn’t mind it at all.

  “I will show to your room where you can refresh yourself.”

  He lit a thick, green candle in a heavy candlestick of pure gold, filigreed with black cobwebs, and led her up the crystal staircase. They crossed a skywalk to a dark tower, the Beast’s candlelight sputtering light and shadow with equal zeal as they navigated a black hall, and then crossed another skywalk to a tower encircled in an open-air staircase that spiraled up around it to the very top, ending at a doorway framed by white roses and draped with garlands of lavender blossoms as softly tinted as morning shadows on snow.

  “Can you find your way back?” he asked.

  “With pleasure.”

  “Follow the music to find us.” He left her with a bow.

  She entered the room, a circular chamber with floor and columns hewn from rose quartz and fragrant from the roses and blossoming orange trees that reached toward a domed skylight. Presiding over the center of the room stood a canopy bed fashioned from living trees and hung with petals and faerie silk that billowed from the chill wind blowing through open windows. Even as she looked the windows began to swing shut. What an extraordinary place.

  “Leave the windows open, please,” she spoke to the air. “And no need for a fire,” she called out as one began to kindle in the grate of its own accord. “I shall only be a moment, and the room is warm enough for me as it is.”

  The flicker of sparks in the fireplace went out, and the windows remained open to the winter air. She could have used the fire for a bit more light but decided the pale glow of the windows and the soft illumination from the skylight would be sufficient.

  Satisfied, she removed the high-collared swan cloak and draped it over the chair by the hearth.

  A glimmer of movement beyond the windows caught her gaze, and she drifted to the balcony railing to peer into the night.

  The black wolf and his white mate were running side by side across the snow-veiled fields, shoulder to shoulder, matching stride for stride, their pack nowhere to be seen. The moon found a window in the clouds, and the wolves bounded through rays of silver light as pure as the blue shadows they cast.

  The black wolf suddenly leapt into the air, leaping far higher and longer than a wolf could leap. The white wolf followed suit, and they began leaping together, running faster and faster between leaps and then gathering themselves and launching into the air as if they thought they could fly. Over and over they leapt and soared together, gliding through the moonlit air for several, lingering seconds before landing lightly and running and leaping once more. And she realized they were not earthly wolves at all but something else. Something more. Or at least they used to be.

  Their steps changed to a romping prance as they slowed to revel in the snow again, to revel in their stolen moments, to revel in each other. They reared up on hind legs, jumping and twisting in the air, dancing through moonbeams and snow drifts, always touching. They paused for a moment, basking in the light and nuzzling each other’s noses and cheeks with a love so transparent her heart almost ached. What must it be like to love like that? To be loved like that?

  She watched them, entranced, until they had vanished into the shadows of the forest.

  She found a fountain of frigid water in a dark turret wash room and drank deeply before bathing her face and hands. She glanced at the feathered and flowered gowns in the wardrobe but took nothing. Her own gown was suitable; simple though it was, bereft of embroidery or embellishment, it boasted a finer weave than the most experienced weaver could craft on the finest loom, and the sheen of pale colors changed with the light until it was almost white. The billowing sleeves were detached from the dress leaving her shoulders bare, but she enjoyed the touch of chilled air upon her skin.

  Two small chests elaborately carved from ebony wood sat upon the bed. Within the first she discovered a treasury of Yuletide jewels that any pirate would plunder the whole world for. She picked through cuffs and brooches and rings, gilded mistletoe and silvered holly leaves until she found a webbed necklace of glittering emeralds and l
ustrous seed pearls that spanned her shoulders and draped down each arm in a lacework of gleaming strands.

  Near the bottom of the chest lay a hair garland of tiny, silvered thistle blossoms as delicate as snowflakes, strung together with moonstones and pale pearls. She arranged her hair in seconds, the long, silken strands as obedient as ever. For a moment, she wished for unruly hair, wild and curly. But what a silly wish when her own hair was so lovely. And living in a land where hair could freeze solid in seconds, well, her own was far better suited to the North.

  She adorned her ears with a pair of delicate pearl and opal earrings before turning to the second chest. She couldn’t prevent the smile that flowed across her features. There was only one item in this chest, and she removed it carefully—A mask of white and silver lace, older than she could imagine, and intricately shaped like a snowflake.

  He had said it was a masquerade.

  It was the perfect final touch.

  She found a mirror in a golden filigree frame perched on a vanity and settled the delicate mask on her features. “There,” she said softly, admiring the spikes and curves. “Fit for a queen.”

  A web of magic shrouding a vaguely human figure moved boldly behind her in the mirror’s reflection, hovering close.

  Delea adjusted the moonstones and thistles in her hair, trying to ignore the figure that had been following her since she’d arrived, but her patience was thinning.

  “It’s rude to hover so, you know.”

  The figure froze, and Delea smiled. “Yes. I can see you.”

  “I can see you.”

  Had I really heard those words? I stared at her. Could she? It wasn’t possible.

  Her eyes found mine in the mirror.

  My heart raced and stopped and raced again.

  She studied me. “How curious…you don’t know what you are, do you?” Her eyes sharpened with intent focus. “I can’t see you perfectly. It’s as if you have only one foot in this world. But I can see your reflection through your curse.” Her gaze roved over me and around me. “How elegant,” she murmured. “The lines of the spell are exquisitely drawn.” Her eyes returned to her own image in the mirror. “I can see the magic clinging to all of you. Your Beast in particular wears his like a glittering cape, as if his very garments are woven of spell magic.”

  My lips parted. How could she know such things? How could she see such things unless she was—

  Her gaze returned to me, spearing me to where I stood as effectively as if my unseen feet had been nailed to the floor I couldn’t feel.

  She laughed softly. “Fear not, I am no sorcerer. But I was raised by one. I know their ways. And my… mother… gave me the eyes to see shadows of other realms.” For a fraction of a second her eyes flashed like moonlight dancing on water. I stumbled backward, and she laughed gaily, turning to leave the room. She paused at the threshold and glanced back. “I will tell you this,” she said. “Your ignorance is not part of your curse. Unlike the others here, there are two kinds of magic clinging to you. If you truly wish to know who and what you are, you need only find your reflection and make it your own again.”

  And she was gone.

  I peered into the filigreed mirror, but all I could see was the chamber behind me. I reached for it, touched it, my fingers only vaguely feeling the shape of it beneath them. I gritted my teeth and locked my hands around the frame, lifting it right to my face. Or where my face should have been. I felt perspiration trickling down my temples from the effort. I could still see nothing but the room in which I stood.

  Find your reflection, she had said. But how could a ghost find its reflection? My concentration faltered, and the mirror slipped through my fingers and crashed to the floor. The sturdy frame protected it, for the glass did not shatter, but it did crack in a delicate rippling of spiderweb strands across the top corner. I sighed. Many of the mirrors in the castle had been destroyed soon after the darkness had fallen upon us. It really wouldn’t do to break any more. I dared not try to lift it again so soon and left it where it had fallen, hastening to the tower staircase.

  I hesitated to follow the Lady Delea now, realizing that I would not go undetected. That I had not been undetected since she’d arrived. But then the euphoria of being seen caught me up, and I hurried after her.

  The spirit that was more than a spirit hurried after her.

  She didn’t mind really. But the creature had been getting too bold in its incessant trailing of her, and Delea did not care for being followed. Perhaps now that it knew it was not as invisible as it seemed to think—at least not to her—it would maintain a more courteous distance. Delea thought it was a female, but beyond that she could not guess at its identity, though it must be tied to the castle’s past.

  She found her way back to the crowned tower’s staircase. An unearthly music, the like of which she had only ever dreamed, spiraled through the castle halls on the snow-and-rose-scented air. She followed the sounds of melody and murmur down a long, black passageway alight only from the gold and silver glow flickering at the far end.

  She emerged in a dining garden, gleaming with the light of hundreds of candles on standing candelabra with slender, shimmering branches. Gilded ribbons hung in swirls from tree boughs with strands of gleaming pearls and glittering diamonds until it looked as though it were raining jewels. Green, gold, and black candles presided over a long table swathed in pearl spidersilk and moss. Crystal platters and silver chargers were bountifully laden with sugared fruits and iced cakes and goblets of gleaming wine. Bundles of cinnamon and cloves clustered in bowls of bayberries, and evergreen wreaths spiked with mistletoe and holly embraced freshly cut frankincense branches.

  Her fingers trailed along the table. It was real, but the food was not. Nor were the decorations. She could walk through strands of diamonds without a scratch or a rippling twinkle. Even the candlelight was only a gleaming mirage of dancing flames.

  She ducked through a tunnel of evergreen boughs and stepped into a masquerade of memories.

  The snow had slowed to a gentle downdrift of skating flakes that caught the light in glints and glances. The memories were pale and gleaming with some colors muted and others vibrant. A thin skim of snowflakes glossed the ballroom’s crystal floor in silver and white. Pillars of living oaks veined with glistening crystal wore garlands of rubies, bloodstones, sage, and cedar spiraling up their broad trunks. Evergreen trees surrounded the open-air room, some grown there, others brought in from elsewhere, planted in silver pots, and all festooned with ropes of diamonds and pearls. Garnets and emeralds and gilded holly leaves dripped from crystal chandeliers blooming from the tree branches, and mistletoe hung in each of the stone alcoves that encircled the garden. Strands of pearls lustered in long, irregular drapes and webs amidst hanging silver candles, suspended from so high in the trees, they seemed to hang from the very heavens. The candles and the chandeliers glimmered softly, scattering light on the pearls and the gently falling snowflakes until the very air glittered white and silver.

  Men and women and Fae danced in whirling swirls of gleaming glory. She could see the luster of magic clinging to each of them, but it was not the black glimmer of curse magic. Masks adorned one and all, every one of them different, every one of them priceless. Painted birds, gilded lions, carved ebony skulls, tusks of emerald, beaks of pearl, silver butterflies, lace scarabs, raven ear wings—gems and silks and creatures of the infinite fantastic filled the room, filled the world. Ladies wore gowns of sweeping fir boughs, lily petals, and peony ruffles, while the men wore somber suits of crimson, green, and black with flashing, glistering capes. The jewels and colors and faces were dizzying, and Delea found herself both mesmerized and overwhelmed. Memories and magic were overlaid on top of each other in layers of Yuletide witchery, the perfect joy in the filmy strata of earth glamour nearly visible atop the castle’s coating of curse magic, discernible to her eyes as smears of dark glitter.

  A stately couple waltzed by, the king and queen if Delea was not mistaken, judging by the elaborate crowns of gilded branches upon their heads.

  A Fae maid twirled by alone in a gossamer gown of moth wings, her mask of silver and pearl creating an insect face as unsettling as it was beautiful.