Chapter 5: The Deal

“I said, ‘get away from her!’” Illyra cried. She clapped her hands together, the fire from her fingertips shooting at the snow soldier intruder, knocking him across the living room. He crashed into the stairs, groaning, but he didn’t get up.

The tree groaned and shuddered from the impact, the winding stairs cracking and seeping sap as the tree worked hard to repair the wound. Illyra put her hand to her heart. She didn’t want to cause the tree, a living being, her home, any more pain.

“You shouldn’t be here, Lyra,” Calista said in a rush.

Illyra ran to her guardian and brushed away the remaining ice and water from her. “Run, get out of here,” she pleaded.

“I’m not leaving you. It is my duty to protect you,” Calista argued.

“Go. I can handle one snow soldier. He won’t have the chance to report back to his king,” Illyria promised. She clasped Calista’s hands in hers, kissing them. The woman who had always been like a mother to her would never be able to fight a trained soldier. She didn’t have it in her.

“Illyra,” Calista argued.

Illyra shook her head. “Go. Take shelter at the chasm. I’ll come to find you when I’ve handled this, I promise.”

“Be careful, please,” Calista said. She cupped Illyra’s cheeks and pulled her down to kiss her forehead.

Illyra watched Calista disappear into the forest. At least, Calista would be safe. She would never betray Illyra; she would die first. That was what bothered Illyra most. She winced when she heard the soldier groan.

He got to his feet, shaking his head and brushing his clothes. His hands ran through a wad of sap and he contorted his face, attempting to shake it off. The sap was filled with fuzz and lint from his clothes which would be stuck on his skin for days.

If her knees hadn’t been knocking together, Illyra would have found his discomfort amusing.

“You shouldn’t have come here, winter fae!” she spat. With a deep breath in, Illyra reignited the flames on her fingers.

“I’m not here to fight you,” the winter fae growled, wiping his sap-covered hand on the couch.

Illyra narrowed her eyes. He defiled her home. “No, you’re here to torture defenseless autumn fae who are homemakers, not soldiers.”

“I have a job and I will see it through by any means necessary,” he pointed out, crossing his arms over his remarkably broad chest.

Illyra raked her eyes over the soldier before her. He was tall, as most winter fae were, his white, straight hair so long it went all the way down to his waist. Even after she’d struck him with fire, his hair was immaculately perfect and shiny, his clothing hardly wrinkled or singed. His skin was pale, almost as pale as snow, and flawless. Despite herself, Illyra wondered if his skin was as soft as it looked.

“Is that the kind of order your king gives, ‘by any means necessary?’” she snarled. She raised her flaming fingers, slowly, ensuring the soldier’s ice-blue eyes reflected them so he understood what she was capable of.

“I do believe that is the stance your family takes,” the winter fae said condescendingly. He smirked and nodded his bangs out of his face.

“My family?” Illyra asked, her heart pounding. She looked around the house, catching her reflection in a cooper pot hanging in the kitchen. The makeup around her eyes had smeared from her tears.

“You’re the Leaf Princess, the last of the Autumn Court bloodline,” he said, arching an eyebrow.

Illyra sighed and bowed her head. She couldn’t lie her way out of this. She couldn’t run, snow soldiers patrolled the forest. This soldier knew what he saw, and she couldn’t convince him otherwise. She had to fight. The princess raised her hand, ready to strike her adversary again.

“Wait!” he held his hands up.

“For what?” Illyra asked narrowing her eyes. “For your reinforcements to arrive? You must know you’re no match for my power.” She breathed more life into the flames on her fingers, the heat intensifying.

The winter fae took a half step back, his eyes widening. So, he was wary of heat. Either he hadn’t figured out whether or not he could take her, or he was certain he couldn’t. Whatever his hesitation, Illyra now had the advantage.

“I told you, I have a job to do, and that doesn’t include fighting you,” the snow soldier reminded her, his thin mouth curving down in a frown.

“The Snow King wants me dead. Everyone knows I’m the only thing that stands between him and total domination,” she pointed out. She kept her arm ready for an attack. The moment she lowered it, she’d be at a disadvantage.

“Maybe the Snow King is willing to reconsider,” the soldier said, grinning lopsidedly. His eyes brightened intensely.

“Reconsider what? Killing me? Wiping out my family? Taking over my kingdom? I won’t believe that unless I hear it from his mouth,” Illyra grumbled.

“That is the idea,” the soldier chuckled smoothly.

Illyra faltered, the flames on her fingers puffing out into smoke. “What?” she asked, creasing her brow.

“The Snow King wants you to come to the ice palace and negotiate for your freedom and the safety of your people,” he explained, shrugging one shoulder. His long, white bangs hung around his face, eyelids drooping slightly like he was bored. Who was this guy?

“It’s a trap,” Illyra said plainly. She put her hands on her hips.

“If the Snow King wanted to capture you, I wouldn’t be here alone. As you pointed out, your power is greater than mine,” the soldier said, shrugging again.

Illyra looked away from him. She’d already seen more than one snow soldier patrolling her forest. It was true, they could have captured her in force, but only one soldier had come to her home. If Illyra accompanied him to Winter Mountain, she’d be completely defenseless. She’d be out of her comfort zone, but it could be her chance to settle this dispute once and for all. If she was going to be queen, she’d have to be diplomatic.

“Can you offer me any assurances that I won’t be harmed?” she asked.

“Of course,” the soldier nodded once.

“That I will be safely returned to my kingdom when negotiations have wrapped up?” she added.

“Winter fae are not without honor or diplomacy,” he said, jaw tensing.

“Says the soldier who was torturing a defenseless woman less than an hour ago,” Illyra hissed. She rolled her eyes.

“Well, you got me there,” the winter fae scoffed. “This is a one-time offer, take it or leave it.”

Illyra swallowed. This was her one chance. “I need to tell Calista, to prepare for the journey.”

“No. We leave now,” the soldier insisted, straightening to attention.

Illyra glanced around her home. The wound in the stairs had already started mending itself, growing new bark and fibers. The smell of Calista’s fresh baking still hung in the air, a scent Illyra doubted she’d experience in Winter Mountain. How long would she be gone? When would she see her home and family again?

Placing her hand on her stomach, Illyra sighed. “Fine, I’ll go with you.”