.. CHILD OF SNOW ..
Chapter One
"Can he do that?"
"I don't know. He did, didn't he?" Cel said bitterly. With one hand she twisted her black hair,
the other one clutched a handful of fresh snow.
Laich was silent for a while, kicking at a few rocks nearby and rocking the log they sat on. Then he looked down at his blue hands and sighed.
"Makes sense, though. After all, Silvea is going to be queen, not you. O' course they'd betrothe her to Prince Zachiriah."
Cel glared at him and released the handful of snow and her wavy hair.
"Well, they didn't have to move her betrothal to ME! What if I don't WANT to marry Count Harold's son?? I don't even know his name! I'm only seven!"
"It's not THAT bad."
"Yes it is! I don't want to get married! I'm NEVER getting married! Ever! They can't make me!" Cel cried defiantly. "If Mama were alive, SHE wouldn't make me marry him!"
"You haven't even met him yet," reminded Laich. Cel threw a snowball at him.
"You're supposed to be on MY side!"
"I am," Laich said, shifting uncomfortably. "Just...give him a chance. I'll bet he's not as bad as you think."
"Really! How much do you wanna bet on it?"
"Come on, Cel! Remember when you first met me? You thought I was blue demon."
She looked sideways at him and gritted her teeth at this new angle of attack. Yes, when they first met on her second birthday, she'd run away screaming that he was a blue devil, but that was a long time ago! And Laich was different. Yes, he had blue skin covered with a thin layer of ice and ice instead of hair, and yes, he could turn things to snow, but Laich was--
"Arrgh. Fine. Alright. You win," Cel said grudgingly. "But he gets one chance! That's it!" she added when Laich started to grin.
"I'm sure it'll turn out fine. Tell me all about it when you get back," he said, throwing an arm around her.
"What do you mean, 'when I get back'?" she demanded.
"Well, you're going to go meet him, aren't you?"
"Uh.....no. Papa hasn't said anything about that yet. Besides, when Silvea was betrothed to him, SHE never left and met him."
"But SHE was bethrothed at birth. You're six!"
"Seven!" she cried indignantly. "I'm SEVEN."
"Well, I'm eight, so it doesn't matter, 'cause you're still younger than me."
"Stuck-up!"
"I am not!"
"Yes you ARE. You're always like, 'oh, I can turn things into snow'. Big deal!"
His blue eyes narrowed and he threw a snowball at her. Cel ducked quickly, and the snowball passed over her head harmlessly. Reaching down, she proceeded to attack him with a new barrage of snowballs. She was wearing leather gloves, so her snowballs were harder than his.
One hit him square in the face, knocking him to the ground with a loud "oof!"
Cel laughed gleefully and danced around in the snow.
"Ha! Sir Snowmaster isn't so powerful now, is he?"
Laich leapt up with perfect grace and continued the playful fight. Now that he'd been knocked to the ground, the rules were clear: he was allowed to use his powers. Grinning wickedly, he took a large breath and released a powerful stream of snow at her. Screeching and laughing at the same time, Cel batted away the snow.
In her private dressing room, Queen Minerva stared into the large mirror hanging on the east wall. It was so large that the rectangular mirror covered the entire wall. The mirror was rimmed with cold and silver, giving it an old look.
Queen Minerva stared distastefully at the scene on the mirror. Cel was playing again with that dreadful snow sprite. What was his name? Laich. A snow sprite of the Slivitt province, by what the name indicated. Throwing snowballs and letting her hair loose, the insolent girl was again. Queen Minerva turned and waved her arm at the mirror.
"Enough," she commanded, and the image disappeared, leaving in its place the ordinary reflection of Queen Minerva. Actually, the reflection was anything BUT ordinary, for Queen Minerva was the most beautiful woman in the twelve lands. It was only the mirror had reverted back into an ordinary state.
Queen Minerva paced in the room, her mind spinning a million schemes a second. After all these years, she'd finally convinced Victor to move the betrothal to Cel so that Silvea could be betrothed to Prince Zachiriah of Telren. Would Cel be able to change his mind?
Not likely, since she'd been placing the new potions into his nightly drink. Lately, King Victor of Fenel had felt...ah...testy with his adopted daughter Cel. Still, he did have a strong bond with her and had loved her mother very much. Queen Minerva promised to strengthen the potion.
She turned and stared straight into the mirror. Silky dark brown hair was placed in a fancy series of braids throughout her crown. The black eyes framed in long dark lashes were enough to win her any man, despite her thirty years of age. Though her skin was smooth and soft, it was still somewhat dark-colored, a bad trait she'd inherited from her father. She frowned at this and twirled her regal gown.
"Oh, come Minerva. You know you're the loveliest there has ever been," she murmered to herself. Still, she felt uneasy remembering Cel playing in the snow. Cel was lovelier than Silvea had been had been at her age. Her skin was white as ivory, complimented by the raven black hair that was even darker than her father's. One day, Cel's beauty might even rival her own.
"Mirror!" she cried angrily. "Who is the fairest in the twelve lands? Who holds beauty unsurpassed in her hands? In the future and in the past, whose beauty will forever last?"
Minerva smiled. Nobody could rhyme like Queen Minerva of Fenel! It was a nice new spell that she'd thought up at the moment, and she eagerly awaited the mirror to answer.
"The future can be changed and is hard to perceive," Queen Minerva's reflection replied. "Who is destined to become the fairest may yet face change. It is unknown."
She scowled at the mirror. Obviously, the spell had been too complicated. She'd treaded into the one region that she was not supposed to--asking for the future. Sighing, she resorted to the easier spell.
"Magic mirror on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?"
This time her reflection smiled and curtsied.
"Of all the maidens, young and old, you are the fairest of them all."
Satisfied, Queen Minerva returned to her royal duties. She was still the fairest! She'd deal with Cel later. For now, Queen Minerva attacked a nearby page with renewed confidence.
Chapter Two
"Please, Papa? Just for a few days! On some royal business, you know. Please? I HAVE to meet him!"
King Victor looked out the window, fighting down the burning impatience. Why couldn't Cel just leave him alone?? She was always whining, and here she was, back with another request. Clearly, he'd spoiled her too much. He almost slapped her but thought better of it.
"No, Cel. Count Harold is too busy to just come here because you want him to. Now go," he said dismissively, waving her toward the door.
Cel bit her lip and studied her adoptive father carefully. She could usually tell if she was pushing him too far. Seeing the deep crease between his brows, Cel knew that he'd probably explode if she asked again. Against her better sense, she asked again anyway.
"I could go there. It wouldn't be hard, really! I could just--"
"I SAID NO!" King Victor roared, standing from his seat and raising his hand threateningly. Cel stared at the raised hand in shock before bowing her head timidly.
"Yes, Papa." She quickly scurried out of the room and to her own chambers.
King Victor sat down heavily. Quickly, he shook his head in an attempt to clear his mind. What was wrong with him lately? He'd almost hit Cel! Groaning, he rubbed his temples and closed his eyes.
"Having trouble with Cel, love?" a voice whispered into his right ear.
"Uh, yes Minerva. She's just....don't worry about her."
Queen Minerva handed him the wine goblet, which he drank quickly. She smiled and hugged him. Obviously, he hadn't noticed the extra potions in the wine. That was a good sign. They'd start affecting his thoughts quickly.
"Mmmm. Well, we all know how Cel is. She'll learn her place, with time. Now, Silvea..."
King Victor smiled as Queen Minerva sat in the nearby couch. Gods above, she was beautiful! Much more beautiful than Elyce had ever been.
"Silvea will receive the honor she deserves," he reassured her. "She is, after all, the crown princess. It is imperative that she marry Prince Zachiriah. That way, Roge will not attack our borders, what with our two countries uniting. Cel will learn that it is all for the best. After all, offering her, the adopted princess, for betrothal would have been insulting."
Queen Minerva batted her eyelashes and grinned. The potions were working already. Now, with Silvea's position secure, they could move on to other matters.
"Now, about Cel. Don't you worry. I'll make sure she's taken care of..."
"Prince Zachiriah is so handsome!" Silvea squealed happily. Cel rolled her eyes as her older half sister combed her hair. Silvea noticed the look and sobered quickly.
"Cel, I'm sorry that you have to marry Count Harold's son. What's his name? Oh, yes--Maximillian. That sounds nice."
Cel's expression turned sour. It would be just like optimistic Silvea to think that way. She watched as her hair was twisted into a chignon. Silvea fastened it with a golden clip and beamed.
"Well, say something!"
Cel stared into the vanity mirror. Strange that even though she was adopted, Cel and Silvea looked so alike. Both had black hair, pale skin, and similar face shapes. Despite the fact that Cel was seven and Silvea was thirteen, they knew each other extremely well.
"I don't have anything to say."
Silvea giggled and hugged her younger sister.
"No, not the hairstyle, silly! I meant to ask if you have anything to say about Maximillian."
"Yes, I know. That's what I meant, too."
Silvea turned and sat on the green fainting couch, playing with the gold fringe.
"I'm going to meet Prince Zachiriah in a month! I'm sure that he's nice and strong. Brave, too. Oh, we're going to have a grand wedding where all the nobles in the twelve lands will come to celebrate! Oh, wait. When Zachiriah and I marry, then Fenel and Telren will be one country, right? Then there's only eleven lands. That's better. Less lands, less trouble. Too bad--"
Cel stopped listening to her babbling sister. At the moment, she felt like she was suffocating in the overwarm room. Her entire body screamed for cold, crip, fresh air. Besides, she needed to talk to Laich about the way Papa had been acting lately. He'd be the only one to understand.
"Silvea, could you talk to somebody else? I need to take a walk."
Silvea grinned and stood.
"Oh, alright. You always did like the cold air. I'll just go talk to Ariella."
Rolling her eyes again, Cel headed down the back hallway. She usually didn? use it since it passed right by her stepmother? second set of rooms, but it was the quickest way out of the castle.
Right, left, another right turn and then she was facing a wall with a portrait of King Cronus the first. Running her fingers along the stones in the wall, Cel felt the loose one. She pushed it until the stone disappeared into the wall, leaving a small hole in its place. With a huge groan, the wall started moving aside like a door. Grinning in relief that nobody had noticed her yet, Cel passed through.
Her secret rooms. They were a set of abondoned old rooms that nobody used any more and had forgotten about. Queen Minerva had discovered them when she first moved into the castle. In her other rooms, across from Victor?, servants constantly knocked. She had no privacy at all! Using her mirror, she? chanced upon these three secret rooms in one of the many secret passageways.
They were still covered in cobwebs in case anybody happened to pass by, though it wasn? likely. Here she mixed her potions and kept her books. Since there were no windows, she? had to rely on candles. The candles were everywhere in her rooms, throwing shadows and light over the tables that filled the room. The rooms were at the very back wall, the passageway leading to the castle moat. Oftentimes, wind would almost knock the rooms over. It was an annoying problem, but worth the privacy.
Queen Minerva filled the cauldron with the Gorgon's Root. It was the essential element in most of her potions, and she was extremely lucky that it grew readily in the murky moat waters. Now she looked again to the potion book lying open on a table.
"I know I saw the potion before," she murmured, flipping through the pages. "Where is it? Potion for love, potion for eternal sleep, transmogrification potion, potion for fame....Damn them all, where is that blasted potion?"
She threw the book aside and drew a new volume titled PSYCHIC. In an almost eerie manner, the book opened to exactly the page she was searching for. Queen Minerva grinned as she held a melting candle close to the yellowing pages.
"Well, if I can't sway his thoughts, at least I'll be able to read them! That way I'll know what he's planning....and stop him if I must."
Pausing for a moment, she considered using a potion to read everyone's thoughts. Looking down on the text, though, she knew that such a potion would require powerful magic, magic that she did not possess. Having come to the dark arts at a late age, she was not strong or experienced enough.
*Someday, though* she promised herself. *I grow more powerful every year. Soon I'll be so strong none can stop me.*
Surpressing a giggle, Queen Minerva went into an adjoining room to gather the necessary ingredients. That was when she heard the noise. There was soft splashing just outside this wall, she was sure of it! Panicking, she raced into the secret hallway and walked to the edge, where a unnoticeable door was cut in the stone. It opened before her with a flick of her wrist, and Queen Minerva leaned her head over to stare down at the moat.
Swimming expertly toward the other side was none other than Cel, and from that very door, too! How had she learned about this exit??
As Cel reached the other bank and climbed on, Queen Minerva glared in hate. If Cel knew about her secret rooms, what else did she know? Queen Minerva would have to protect her secret at all costs. She had to keep Cel silent, prevent her from speaking about anything that she knew.
Turning on her heel, Queen Minerva closed the stone door and walked up toward her rooms and her magic mirror.
Chapter Three
"It's worth a try," Laich said one last time in his most persuasive voice. Cel shivered in her wet clothes as another winter wind blew past. Sitting next to Laich did NOT help since more cold air seemed to pour from him.
"Well, I don't know. It might work," Cel said doubtfully. She glanced at Laich and added quickly, "I'll try it. You're probably right."
Laich forced himself to be satisfied with that as an answer. He noticed that Cel was visibly shaking now and scooted away.
"Better?"
She smiled gratefully as she pulled the wet cloak closer.
"Thanks. Gods above, that water is cold! I don't know why I used that exit. Stupid! It's winter now. I haven't used it in years!"
"I'm surprised that the water wasn't frozen already," Laich commented.
"Well, winter IS almost over, in case you haven't noticed."
Of course he'd noticed. The coming spring caused a dull ache in his head. The warmth would be coming too soon. Soon it would be time for his people to leave the lowlands and head again for his home in the Slivitt province, far to the north. His wings of ice shook at the thought. The long migration!
"When are you leaving?" Cel asked when he didn't say anything. Laich started, surprised that she'd guessed his thoughts so easily.
"I don't know yet. This week, maybe. By the end of the month, we'll all be gone. Spring will be here."
Cel sighed. Spring already! Winters in the lowlands always were much too short for her, it being her favorite season.
"They're already planning Silvea's wedding. When she's sixteen--the summertime," Cel said distastefully. "A blue wedding dress! It's a Telrenaise thing. Papa said I'm not going to meet Maximillian until probably a week before our wedding."
"So you can't run away," Laich reasoned. Her eyes widened at the thought. Running away?
"That's a good idea! Where would I go? Oh, I know! I could go with you to the Slivitt Mountains!"
"There's plenty of abondoned cabins up there. You know, that loggers used to live in," Laich added, caught up in the idea.
"And you could get your parents to carry me! Oh, flying! That's GOT to be fun!"
"Not possible. I doubt they could lift you, and I don't think if they could they would."
"Why not?"
"Well, you're....you're..." he trailed off, not able to find a kind way to say it.
"Oh."
They sat still for a while, the reality of the situation sinking in. Another blast of chilly air bit through Cel's cloak and she hugged her knees and a feeble effort to keep warm.
"I went to the Slivitt Mountains once," Cel managed through chattering teeth. "But I didn't see you anywhere. I was three, I think."
"Of course you didn't find us! Only we know where it is. Otherwise those stupid bounty hunters your father sent would find us so-easy."
He glared at her and pointed to a deep purple line on his forearm. Cel tentatively touched it and shivered at how cold he was.
"That was a bounty hunter. One year they almost found us."
Cel bit her lip as she traced the long scar. It would never heal properly. She knew from the way blue blood still oozed through the scabs in several places.
"I have a scar," she said to brighten the moment. She pointed to a pink scratch on her wrist. Laich kicked out his foot.
"I've got one on my leg--see? Not as bad as my arm. Got caught when we flew."
Smiling, Cel removed one leather boot and showed him her ankle, encircled a thin brown line.
"I tripped over...something. I can't remember. Next thing I know, blood!"
"Mine is worse."
Sticking out her tongue, Cel laced her boot on. Laich sniffed and stood. Brushing off snow, Cel stood as well.
"I need to go. I've been out twice today, so they're probably gonna punish me. 'Might not see you 'til next week," Cel warned. Laich frowned.
"'Might be gone by then. So, just in case, let's say good-bye now."
Laich took a deep breath and then blew into his palm. Slowly, a small piece of ice materialized in his hand. The ice gradually took on the shape of a dancing girl. Sheepishly, Laich handed it to Cel.
"Good-bye gift. Better than last year's?"
Cel grinned and pulled a few strands of her black hair loose, handing them to him.
"Maybe. Maybe not. See you next year! And be careful 'cause I might grow taller!"
"No you won't. You always say that!"
"Bye, Laich. 'Let winter's luck stay fresh 'til summer.'"
"Where'd you hear that one?"
"Silvea. Well, are you going to leave or not?" Cel said pointedly, hand on her hip.
"Fi-ne. Since you want me to go so much, I'll just go. So long, Daughter of the Sun."
"G'bye, Son of Snow."
With a powerful leap, Laich was airborne. His crystal wings beat the air and he was gone, leaving behind him a trail of fresh snow and chilly winter air.
"Showoff," Cel muttered and coughed. Instantly, a sharp pain stung her throat and her lungs. Cursing under her breath, Cel trudged back toward the castle.
Queen Minerva watched the door like a cat watched a mouse hole. Finally, the brass knob turned and Cel walked in, coughing and sneezing. She threw her coat on the floor and kicked off her boots. Only then did she see Queen Minerva sitting on the edge of her bed.
"Oh."
Queen Minerva raised a perfectly arched eyebrow and toyed with a pillow.
"When was it that you discovered the South exit, the one that drops directly into the moat?" she asked coldly, setting the pillow back into its original position. Cel inhaled sharply and her pale blue eyes widened slightly.
"Wh-what are you talking about?"
"Don't you lie to me!" Queen Minerva screeched, rising from the bed. "I saw you today! Going off to see that horrid snow sprite again!"
"You know about Laich?" Cel asked without thinking. Then, realizing that she had just acknowledged that what Queen Minerva had said was true, Cel covered her mouth.
"So then, you know about my experimentation rooms, don't you? Well, you are not to tell anyone about them. Nobody! You can't tell anyone what you know!"
"I don't want to tell anyone," Cel muttered.
Queen Minerva took a few deep breaths in an effort to calm down. Then, she grinned maliciously.
"Do you know about the order that your father placed, several years ago when your mother died? He said that he would pay three thousand fendes to anyone who could capture a snow sprite and bring it to him alive."
"You wouldn't! Not Laich!" cried Cel.
"I will if you tell anyone about my secret rooms. If you EVER go there again, I will tell your father all about these little meetings with your precious snow sprite friend."
"Fine. I wasn't going to tell anyone anyway."
"I never want you to see him again," Queen Minerva added. "It's no way for a princess to be acting, running around with a creature like that."
"But-"
"If you do," Queen Minerva said sharply, "you know what will happen to him. So, do we have an understanding? No more meetings, and you are not to tell a soul about my secret rooms. Do that, and I will see to it that Laich lives a long life."
Cel's mouth dropped open. Never see Laich again? Her best friend, one of the only friends she'd ever had, never see him again?
She exhaled, and it felt like all the life flowed out of her.
"Alright. I won't tell anyone."
Smiling triumphantly, Queen Minerva walked out of the room, shutting the door softly behind her.
As she drew a small leather pouch out of her pocket, her smile widened. Quickly she sprinkled the white powder over the doorway and whispered an incantation.
"I know you wouldn't tell anyone about this, dear, but I have to make sure."
As she walked down the hall, she left a trail of white powder that slowly disappeared, invisible.
Chapter One
"Can he do that?"
"I don't know. He did, didn't he?" Cel said bitterly. With one hand she twisted her black hair,
the other one clutched a handful of fresh snow.
Laich was silent for a while, kicking at a few rocks nearby and rocking the log they sat on. Then he looked down at his blue hands and sighed.
"Makes sense, though. After all, Silvea is going to be queen, not you. O' course they'd betrothe her to Prince Zachiriah."
Cel glared at him and released the handful of snow and her wavy hair.
"Well, they didn't have to move her betrothal to ME! What if I don't WANT to marry Count Harold's son?? I don't even know his name! I'm only seven!"
"It's not THAT bad."
"Yes it is! I don't want to get married! I'm NEVER getting married! Ever! They can't make me!" Cel cried defiantly. "If Mama were alive, SHE wouldn't make me marry him!"
"You haven't even met him yet," reminded Laich. Cel threw a snowball at him.
"You're supposed to be on MY side!"
"I am," Laich said, shifting uncomfortably. "Just...give him a chance. I'll bet he's not as bad as you think."
"Really! How much do you wanna bet on it?"
"Come on, Cel! Remember when you first met me? You thought I was blue demon."
She looked sideways at him and gritted her teeth at this new angle of attack. Yes, when they first met on her second birthday, she'd run away screaming that he was a blue devil, but that was a long time ago! And Laich was different. Yes, he had blue skin covered with a thin layer of ice and ice instead of hair, and yes, he could turn things to snow, but Laich was--
"Arrgh. Fine. Alright. You win," Cel said grudgingly. "But he gets one chance! That's it!" she added when Laich started to grin.
"I'm sure it'll turn out fine. Tell me all about it when you get back," he said, throwing an arm around her.
"What do you mean, 'when I get back'?" she demanded.
"Well, you're going to go meet him, aren't you?"
"Uh.....no. Papa hasn't said anything about that yet. Besides, when Silvea was betrothed to him, SHE never left and met him."
"But SHE was bethrothed at birth. You're six!"
"Seven!" she cried indignantly. "I'm SEVEN."
"Well, I'm eight, so it doesn't matter, 'cause you're still younger than me."
"Stuck-up!"
"I am not!"
"Yes you ARE. You're always like, 'oh, I can turn things into snow'. Big deal!"
His blue eyes narrowed and he threw a snowball at her. Cel ducked quickly, and the snowball passed over her head harmlessly. Reaching down, she proceeded to attack him with a new barrage of snowballs. She was wearing leather gloves, so her snowballs were harder than his.
One hit him square in the face, knocking him to the ground with a loud "oof!"
Cel laughed gleefully and danced around in the snow.
"Ha! Sir Snowmaster isn't so powerful now, is he?"
Laich leapt up with perfect grace and continued the playful fight. Now that he'd been knocked to the ground, the rules were clear: he was allowed to use his powers. Grinning wickedly, he took a large breath and released a powerful stream of snow at her. Screeching and laughing at the same time, Cel batted away the snow.
In her private dressing room, Queen Minerva stared into the large mirror hanging on the east wall. It was so large that the rectangular mirror covered the entire wall. The mirror was rimmed with cold and silver, giving it an old look.
Queen Minerva stared distastefully at the scene on the mirror. Cel was playing again with that dreadful snow sprite. What was his name? Laich. A snow sprite of the Slivitt province, by what the name indicated. Throwing snowballs and letting her hair loose, the insolent girl was again. Queen Minerva turned and waved her arm at the mirror.
"Enough," she commanded, and the image disappeared, leaving in its place the ordinary reflection of Queen Minerva. Actually, the reflection was anything BUT ordinary, for Queen Minerva was the most beautiful woman in the twelve lands. It was only the mirror had reverted back into an ordinary state.
Queen Minerva paced in the room, her mind spinning a million schemes a second. After all these years, she'd finally convinced Victor to move the betrothal to Cel so that Silvea could be betrothed to Prince Zachiriah of Telren. Would Cel be able to change his mind?
Not likely, since she'd been placing the new potions into his nightly drink. Lately, King Victor of Fenel had felt...ah...testy with his adopted daughter Cel. Still, he did have a strong bond with her and had loved her mother very much. Queen Minerva promised to strengthen the potion.
She turned and stared straight into the mirror. Silky dark brown hair was placed in a fancy series of braids throughout her crown. The black eyes framed in long dark lashes were enough to win her any man, despite her thirty years of age. Though her skin was smooth and soft, it was still somewhat dark-colored, a bad trait she'd inherited from her father. She frowned at this and twirled her regal gown.
"Oh, come Minerva. You know you're the loveliest there has ever been," she murmered to herself. Still, she felt uneasy remembering Cel playing in the snow. Cel was lovelier than Silvea had been had been at her age. Her skin was white as ivory, complimented by the raven black hair that was even darker than her father's. One day, Cel's beauty might even rival her own.
"Mirror!" she cried angrily. "Who is the fairest in the twelve lands? Who holds beauty unsurpassed in her hands? In the future and in the past, whose beauty will forever last?"
Minerva smiled. Nobody could rhyme like Queen Minerva of Fenel! It was a nice new spell that she'd thought up at the moment, and she eagerly awaited the mirror to answer.
"The future can be changed and is hard to perceive," Queen Minerva's reflection replied. "Who is destined to become the fairest may yet face change. It is unknown."
She scowled at the mirror. Obviously, the spell had been too complicated. She'd treaded into the one region that she was not supposed to--asking for the future. Sighing, she resorted to the easier spell.
"Magic mirror on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?"
This time her reflection smiled and curtsied.
"Of all the maidens, young and old, you are the fairest of them all."
Satisfied, Queen Minerva returned to her royal duties. She was still the fairest! She'd deal with Cel later. For now, Queen Minerva attacked a nearby page with renewed confidence.
Chapter Two
"Please, Papa? Just for a few days! On some royal business, you know. Please? I HAVE to meet him!"
King Victor looked out the window, fighting down the burning impatience. Why couldn't Cel just leave him alone?? She was always whining, and here she was, back with another request. Clearly, he'd spoiled her too much. He almost slapped her but thought better of it.
"No, Cel. Count Harold is too busy to just come here because you want him to. Now go," he said dismissively, waving her toward the door.
Cel bit her lip and studied her adoptive father carefully. She could usually tell if she was pushing him too far. Seeing the deep crease between his brows, Cel knew that he'd probably explode if she asked again. Against her better sense, she asked again anyway.
"I could go there. It wouldn't be hard, really! I could just--"
"I SAID NO!" King Victor roared, standing from his seat and raising his hand threateningly. Cel stared at the raised hand in shock before bowing her head timidly.
"Yes, Papa." She quickly scurried out of the room and to her own chambers.
King Victor sat down heavily. Quickly, he shook his head in an attempt to clear his mind. What was wrong with him lately? He'd almost hit Cel! Groaning, he rubbed his temples and closed his eyes.
"Having trouble with Cel, love?" a voice whispered into his right ear.
"Uh, yes Minerva. She's just....don't worry about her."
Queen Minerva handed him the wine goblet, which he drank quickly. She smiled and hugged him. Obviously, he hadn't noticed the extra potions in the wine. That was a good sign. They'd start affecting his thoughts quickly.
"Mmmm. Well, we all know how Cel is. She'll learn her place, with time. Now, Silvea..."
King Victor smiled as Queen Minerva sat in the nearby couch. Gods above, she was beautiful! Much more beautiful than Elyce had ever been.
"Silvea will receive the honor she deserves," he reassured her. "She is, after all, the crown princess. It is imperative that she marry Prince Zachiriah. That way, Roge will not attack our borders, what with our two countries uniting. Cel will learn that it is all for the best. After all, offering her, the adopted princess, for betrothal would have been insulting."
Queen Minerva batted her eyelashes and grinned. The potions were working already. Now, with Silvea's position secure, they could move on to other matters.
"Now, about Cel. Don't you worry. I'll make sure she's taken care of..."
"Prince Zachiriah is so handsome!" Silvea squealed happily. Cel rolled her eyes as her older half sister combed her hair. Silvea noticed the look and sobered quickly.
"Cel, I'm sorry that you have to marry Count Harold's son. What's his name? Oh, yes--Maximillian. That sounds nice."
Cel's expression turned sour. It would be just like optimistic Silvea to think that way. She watched as her hair was twisted into a chignon. Silvea fastened it with a golden clip and beamed.
"Well, say something!"
Cel stared into the vanity mirror. Strange that even though she was adopted, Cel and Silvea looked so alike. Both had black hair, pale skin, and similar face shapes. Despite the fact that Cel was seven and Silvea was thirteen, they knew each other extremely well.
"I don't have anything to say."
Silvea giggled and hugged her younger sister.
"No, not the hairstyle, silly! I meant to ask if you have anything to say about Maximillian."
"Yes, I know. That's what I meant, too."
Silvea turned and sat on the green fainting couch, playing with the gold fringe.
"I'm going to meet Prince Zachiriah in a month! I'm sure that he's nice and strong. Brave, too. Oh, we're going to have a grand wedding where all the nobles in the twelve lands will come to celebrate! Oh, wait. When Zachiriah and I marry, then Fenel and Telren will be one country, right? Then there's only eleven lands. That's better. Less lands, less trouble. Too bad--"
Cel stopped listening to her babbling sister. At the moment, she felt like she was suffocating in the overwarm room. Her entire body screamed for cold, crip, fresh air. Besides, she needed to talk to Laich about the way Papa had been acting lately. He'd be the only one to understand.
"Silvea, could you talk to somebody else? I need to take a walk."
Silvea grinned and stood.
"Oh, alright. You always did like the cold air. I'll just go talk to Ariella."
Rolling her eyes again, Cel headed down the back hallway. She usually didn? use it since it passed right by her stepmother? second set of rooms, but it was the quickest way out of the castle.
Right, left, another right turn and then she was facing a wall with a portrait of King Cronus the first. Running her fingers along the stones in the wall, Cel felt the loose one. She pushed it until the stone disappeared into the wall, leaving a small hole in its place. With a huge groan, the wall started moving aside like a door. Grinning in relief that nobody had noticed her yet, Cel passed through.
Her secret rooms. They were a set of abondoned old rooms that nobody used any more and had forgotten about. Queen Minerva had discovered them when she first moved into the castle. In her other rooms, across from Victor?, servants constantly knocked. She had no privacy at all! Using her mirror, she? chanced upon these three secret rooms in one of the many secret passageways.
They were still covered in cobwebs in case anybody happened to pass by, though it wasn? likely. Here she mixed her potions and kept her books. Since there were no windows, she? had to rely on candles. The candles were everywhere in her rooms, throwing shadows and light over the tables that filled the room. The rooms were at the very back wall, the passageway leading to the castle moat. Oftentimes, wind would almost knock the rooms over. It was an annoying problem, but worth the privacy.
Queen Minerva filled the cauldron with the Gorgon's Root. It was the essential element in most of her potions, and she was extremely lucky that it grew readily in the murky moat waters. Now she looked again to the potion book lying open on a table.
"I know I saw the potion before," she murmured, flipping through the pages. "Where is it? Potion for love, potion for eternal sleep, transmogrification potion, potion for fame....Damn them all, where is that blasted potion?"
She threw the book aside and drew a new volume titled PSYCHIC. In an almost eerie manner, the book opened to exactly the page she was searching for. Queen Minerva grinned as she held a melting candle close to the yellowing pages.
"Well, if I can't sway his thoughts, at least I'll be able to read them! That way I'll know what he's planning....and stop him if I must."
Pausing for a moment, she considered using a potion to read everyone's thoughts. Looking down on the text, though, she knew that such a potion would require powerful magic, magic that she did not possess. Having come to the dark arts at a late age, she was not strong or experienced enough.
*Someday, though* she promised herself. *I grow more powerful every year. Soon I'll be so strong none can stop me.*
Surpressing a giggle, Queen Minerva went into an adjoining room to gather the necessary ingredients. That was when she heard the noise. There was soft splashing just outside this wall, she was sure of it! Panicking, she raced into the secret hallway and walked to the edge, where a unnoticeable door was cut in the stone. It opened before her with a flick of her wrist, and Queen Minerva leaned her head over to stare down at the moat.
Swimming expertly toward the other side was none other than Cel, and from that very door, too! How had she learned about this exit??
As Cel reached the other bank and climbed on, Queen Minerva glared in hate. If Cel knew about her secret rooms, what else did she know? Queen Minerva would have to protect her secret at all costs. She had to keep Cel silent, prevent her from speaking about anything that she knew.
Turning on her heel, Queen Minerva closed the stone door and walked up toward her rooms and her magic mirror.
Chapter Three
"It's worth a try," Laich said one last time in his most persuasive voice. Cel shivered in her wet clothes as another winter wind blew past. Sitting next to Laich did NOT help since more cold air seemed to pour from him.
"Well, I don't know. It might work," Cel said doubtfully. She glanced at Laich and added quickly, "I'll try it. You're probably right."
Laich forced himself to be satisfied with that as an answer. He noticed that Cel was visibly shaking now and scooted away.
"Better?"
She smiled gratefully as she pulled the wet cloak closer.
"Thanks. Gods above, that water is cold! I don't know why I used that exit. Stupid! It's winter now. I haven't used it in years!"
"I'm surprised that the water wasn't frozen already," Laich commented.
"Well, winter IS almost over, in case you haven't noticed."
Of course he'd noticed. The coming spring caused a dull ache in his head. The warmth would be coming too soon. Soon it would be time for his people to leave the lowlands and head again for his home in the Slivitt province, far to the north. His wings of ice shook at the thought. The long migration!
"When are you leaving?" Cel asked when he didn't say anything. Laich started, surprised that she'd guessed his thoughts so easily.
"I don't know yet. This week, maybe. By the end of the month, we'll all be gone. Spring will be here."
Cel sighed. Spring already! Winters in the lowlands always were much too short for her, it being her favorite season.
"They're already planning Silvea's wedding. When she's sixteen--the summertime," Cel said distastefully. "A blue wedding dress! It's a Telrenaise thing. Papa said I'm not going to meet Maximillian until probably a week before our wedding."
"So you can't run away," Laich reasoned. Her eyes widened at the thought. Running away?
"That's a good idea! Where would I go? Oh, I know! I could go with you to the Slivitt Mountains!"
"There's plenty of abondoned cabins up there. You know, that loggers used to live in," Laich added, caught up in the idea.
"And you could get your parents to carry me! Oh, flying! That's GOT to be fun!"
"Not possible. I doubt they could lift you, and I don't think if they could they would."
"Why not?"
"Well, you're....you're..." he trailed off, not able to find a kind way to say it.
"Oh."
They sat still for a while, the reality of the situation sinking in. Another blast of chilly air bit through Cel's cloak and she hugged her knees and a feeble effort to keep warm.
"I went to the Slivitt Mountains once," Cel managed through chattering teeth. "But I didn't see you anywhere. I was three, I think."
"Of course you didn't find us! Only we know where it is. Otherwise those stupid bounty hunters your father sent would find us so-easy."
He glared at her and pointed to a deep purple line on his forearm. Cel tentatively touched it and shivered at how cold he was.
"That was a bounty hunter. One year they almost found us."
Cel bit her lip as she traced the long scar. It would never heal properly. She knew from the way blue blood still oozed through the scabs in several places.
"I have a scar," she said to brighten the moment. She pointed to a pink scratch on her wrist. Laich kicked out his foot.
"I've got one on my leg--see? Not as bad as my arm. Got caught when we flew."
Smiling, Cel removed one leather boot and showed him her ankle, encircled a thin brown line.
"I tripped over...something. I can't remember. Next thing I know, blood!"
"Mine is worse."
Sticking out her tongue, Cel laced her boot on. Laich sniffed and stood. Brushing off snow, Cel stood as well.
"I need to go. I've been out twice today, so they're probably gonna punish me. 'Might not see you 'til next week," Cel warned. Laich frowned.
"'Might be gone by then. So, just in case, let's say good-bye now."
Laich took a deep breath and then blew into his palm. Slowly, a small piece of ice materialized in his hand. The ice gradually took on the shape of a dancing girl. Sheepishly, Laich handed it to Cel.
"Good-bye gift. Better than last year's?"
Cel grinned and pulled a few strands of her black hair loose, handing them to him.
"Maybe. Maybe not. See you next year! And be careful 'cause I might grow taller!"
"No you won't. You always say that!"
"Bye, Laich. 'Let winter's luck stay fresh 'til summer.'"
"Where'd you hear that one?"
"Silvea. Well, are you going to leave or not?" Cel said pointedly, hand on her hip.
"Fi-ne. Since you want me to go so much, I'll just go. So long, Daughter of the Sun."
"G'bye, Son of Snow."
With a powerful leap, Laich was airborne. His crystal wings beat the air and he was gone, leaving behind him a trail of fresh snow and chilly winter air.
"Showoff," Cel muttered and coughed. Instantly, a sharp pain stung her throat and her lungs. Cursing under her breath, Cel trudged back toward the castle.
Queen Minerva watched the door like a cat watched a mouse hole. Finally, the brass knob turned and Cel walked in, coughing and sneezing. She threw her coat on the floor and kicked off her boots. Only then did she see Queen Minerva sitting on the edge of her bed.
"Oh."
Queen Minerva raised a perfectly arched eyebrow and toyed with a pillow.
"When was it that you discovered the South exit, the one that drops directly into the moat?" she asked coldly, setting the pillow back into its original position. Cel inhaled sharply and her pale blue eyes widened slightly.
"Wh-what are you talking about?"
"Don't you lie to me!" Queen Minerva screeched, rising from the bed. "I saw you today! Going off to see that horrid snow sprite again!"
"You know about Laich?" Cel asked without thinking. Then, realizing that she had just acknowledged that what Queen Minerva had said was true, Cel covered her mouth.
"So then, you know about my experimentation rooms, don't you? Well, you are not to tell anyone about them. Nobody! You can't tell anyone what you know!"
"I don't want to tell anyone," Cel muttered.
Queen Minerva took a few deep breaths in an effort to calm down. Then, she grinned maliciously.
"Do you know about the order that your father placed, several years ago when your mother died? He said that he would pay three thousand fendes to anyone who could capture a snow sprite and bring it to him alive."
"You wouldn't! Not Laich!" cried Cel.
"I will if you tell anyone about my secret rooms. If you EVER go there again, I will tell your father all about these little meetings with your precious snow sprite friend."
"Fine. I wasn't going to tell anyone anyway."
"I never want you to see him again," Queen Minerva added. "It's no way for a princess to be acting, running around with a creature like that."
"But-"
"If you do," Queen Minerva said sharply, "you know what will happen to him. So, do we have an understanding? No more meetings, and you are not to tell a soul about my secret rooms. Do that, and I will see to it that Laich lives a long life."
Cel's mouth dropped open. Never see Laich again? Her best friend, one of the only friends she'd ever had, never see him again?
She exhaled, and it felt like all the life flowed out of her.
"Alright. I won't tell anyone."
Smiling triumphantly, Queen Minerva walked out of the room, shutting the door softly behind her.
As she drew a small leather pouch out of her pocket, her smile widened. Quickly she sprinkled the white powder over the doorway and whispered an incantation.
"I know you wouldn't tell anyone about this, dear, but I have to make sure."
As she walked down the hall, she left a trail of white powder that slowly disappeared, invisible.