Winter King
Winter King
The Wyth Courts Book 1
JS Dark
Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Any trademark, service marks, product names, or names featured are the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if one of these terms is used.
Copyright © 2019 by JS Dark
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Manufactured in the United States of America.
First Edition October 2019
www.jsdark.com
Edited by Hot Tree Editing
Proofreading by Rare Bird Editing
Cover design by The Book Brander
Created with Vellum
Contents
Author’s Note
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
Thank You
About the Author
Author’s Note
I hope you enjoy reading Winter King!
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Chapter One
Cade
The report I got this morning was nothing like I expected.
“Have you seen this?” I asked Kei, my most trusted general, as I reread the words scribbled on the paper.
They couldn’t be right.
“I have, Cade,” Kei said, his voice strained. “It’s even worse than they described. I think you should come with me and see it for yourself.”
“Snow above,” I muttered under my breath as I rolled the paper back up and dropped it on the long table in my study alongside many other reports and scriptures. I had so much to do, but this…if this was true, it couldn’t wait. I gestured to Kei. “Lead the way.”
Kei’s long body shimmered and changed. His white and silver armor disappeared, giving way to light gray fur as he hunkered down and shook his tail behind him. As a wolf, he let out a short yelp, letting me know he was ready.
I changed too, but as the king of the Winter Court, my wolf was pure white and much bigger than Kei’s.
I’m ready, I told him through the link we shared when in our wolf forms.
Without another second to waste, Kei dashed away, and I followed. We ran through the hallways and down the stairs of the White Palace, dodging servants and guards who were going about their days.
The moment I stepped out of the palace, the six White Knights, who had been standing there and waiting, shifted into their wolf forms and followed us. Kei was the general of my army, but the White Knights were my personal bodyguards. I liked to think I didn’t need them, so I kept them outside the palace. But since we didn’t know much about the threat mentioned in this morning’s report, I had them come with us.
The eight of us ran out of the palace grounds, through the White City, and into the forest, where we could stretch our legs and use our full speed. We zoomed through the snow, past leafless trees and broken branches.
What would take eight hours by horse took us two hours in our wolf forms.
We’re almost there, Kei said into our minds.
He slowed down, and we followed suit. The trees gave way to a valley, where one of the border towers was located, but instead of being covered in snow, the ground was pitch-black.
I shifted into my fae form. “What in the frost is this?”
The guards who usually stayed at the tower appeared before me.
“It started overnight, my king,” Aimon said, his head low. “It’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen. It started right at the border, and like a wave, it has been spreading over the land.”
“It took over the tower,” Birch said, pointing to the once-white tower, now a mass of dark gray crumbles. “We tried to fight it with our powers, to push it back, but it didn’t budge. Whatever this is, we can’t stop it.”
As we watched, the darkness spread some more. It was slow, but every five minutes or so, it advanced half an inch, melting the snow and killing the land underneath, turning everything black.
My brow furrowed. What could this be? With steady steps, I advanced toward it.
“My king, be careful,” Kei said, using formal speech. He only called me by my name when we were alone.
I heard him, but I had to know what in the frost was this. I crouched down, stretched my arm, and slid my index and middle fingers from the snow to the darkness.
The moment the darkness touched my skin, it burned worse than the Summer Court’s sun.
“Snow above,” I hissed, pulling back.
Kei and the six White Knights were all over me in a flash, but I pushed them away. Staring at the advancing darkness, I took several steps back. I didn’t care about the pain in my fingertips. That would pass, and with the magic in my veins, I would soon heal.
But what about my land?
I glanced around. “Who did this?” From here, all I could see was the valley in front of us, now black because of the darkness, and beyond the dried Triad River and the Tywyll Forest.
A land of monsters.
“We don’t know, my king,” Aimon said. “But we have reason to believe it was the Tabred.”
A wave of rage coursed through me, and I suppressed a growl. The Tywyll Forest was a land without a ruler, but that only meant many groups existed and fought against each other and against the Wyth courts. One of these groups, the Tabred, had been at war with my court for centuries.
After I killed their leader years ago, the group had been oddly quiet.
Until now.
This freezing thing happened. I inhaled deeply and channeled my magic. It filled my veins. Ice, snow, frost, wind—it was all part of me, part of my court. It was who I was, what I lived and breathed for.
“Stand back,” I rasped.
Kei, the White Knights, and the border guards took many steps back.
And I let out my magic. It blew like an avalanche, relentless in its path. If a lesser fae had stood there, it would have been obliterated in less than a second. A higher fae would be able to withstand it for a minute or two, but it would weaken him and eventually kill him.
The Winter Court was me, and I was the Winter Court. There was nothing stronger, faster, more powerful than me, not in this land. Not in my kingdom. And anyone who threatened my people, my court, would suffer the consequences.
I sent all my magic, all its vast power, to the darkness, sure I could revert it. Sure I could make it disappear.
But minutes later when I pulled back, breathing hard from the effort, I was dumbfounded to find the da
rkness hadn’t moved back one inch. In fact, it only advanced a little more.
“What in the frost?” I had no words, no idea, no action.
Nothing had ever resisted the full power of my magic before.
“What should we do, my king?” Kei asked, his tone guarded, as if afraid of my answer.
I opened my mouth, but no freezing word came out, because I didn’t know.
“It’s a curse,” a new voice said.
I turned and saw her.
Mahaera, the kind and gentle goddess of Wyth. Her long, white hair moved behind her as if she were underwater, and her long, white dress hugged her voluptuous form.
“A curse?” I asked her. If someone could tell me what this was and how to fix it, it was one of the three sister goddesses.
Mahaera offered me a tight smile, but her dark eyes remained serene. “The Tabred has put a curse on your land.”
“This is….” I pressed my lips tight. Unacceptable? Insane? Many colorful words flew through my mind.
“Tell us what to do, my king,” Kei said, bowing his head low. “If you want me to gather our forces and attack them full force, I’ll do so.”
Mahaera tsked, her dark eyes fixed on the dying land. “Reigniting the war, which has been dormant for years, won’t break this curse.”
“What will?” I asked, taking a couple of steps toward her. “What will break this curse?”
She turned, fixing those wise eyes on mine. This version of her was calm and gentle, but she still always said the truth and impacted our lives more than we expected it in any of her versions. “Here’s what you need to do….”
Chapter Two
Amber
“I’m sorry, Amber, but there’s no other way. I need to fire you.”
I stared at Howard, not believing what I was hearing. “But…why?” I croaked. I knew I hadn’t been employee of the year, but I was sure I didn’t suck either.
“It’s not just you,” my boss said. Or should I call him my ex-boss? “Early this morning, I let Sabrina go, and tonight I’ll have to do the same with Rick.” He gestured around the main seating area of the restaurant. “It’s lunch time and there’s no one here. From what the owner told me, he’ll have to fire half of the staff.”
“Shit,” I muttered.
The small, local Italian restaurant was never a big hit, but in the past few months, things had dwindled fast. For some reason, people just didn’t come here anymore, and I felt bad for the owner. I also felt bad for Rick. He was almost seventy years old. He had been working here for over twenty years. After this gig, I doubted he would find something else.
As much as I hated being fired, I was one of the youngest here. I was also healthy and optimistic—at least on most days. I was sure I would find something soon to pay my bills.
I unknotted the apron from around my waist and handed it to Howard.
“I’m so sorry,” he said, his tone upset.
“It’s okay.” I tried smiling, but at that moment, I wasn’t feeling much like it.
“Take this.” Howard grabbed a brown bag from the table beside us. “It’s your favorite, chicken parmigiana. I thought you should have a treat before leaving like this.”
I took the bag from him, and this time my small smile was genuine. “Thank you.”
“It’s the least I could do.” Howard rocked on the balls of his feet. “Take care, Amber.”
“You too,” I whispered.
This was it. Another page of my life turned. Another phase that had come to an end and would hopefully lead to a new beginning. Seeing as I was only twenty-one and had had so many new beginnings, I was starting to think things weren’t going so well for me.
With the brown bag in hand, I exited the restaurant.
And the façade crumbled.
I was optimistic most of the time, yes, but right now I felt like a lost puppy shuffling down the street with his tail between his legs.
My life had never been easy. My father had been a quiet man with barely any emotions. When my mother died when I was fourteen, he shut down completely. It was like living with a stranger.
Then a couple of years later, out of the blue, he introduced me to a new woman—a total witch. She hated me almost as much as I hated her. She convinced him to move away and start over, but without me. So at seventeen, I was abandoned. At first, I tried moving on, staying in my hometown, but neighbors became nosy, people whispered behind my back, and social services came after me, wanting to put me in the system. I did my best to dodge them, but once my eighteenth birthday came around, I left too.
I left, and I never looked back.
I settled in Brooksville, this tiny town in the middle of nowhere. Though some people were a little wary of me at first—I mean, what eighteen-year-old girl showed up in a small town by herself?—most treated me well.
That had been three years ago.
With a sigh, I crossed the street and went about my business. I wouldn’t go down memory lane, and I wouldn’t go down a sad path. I would remain optimistic through all of this journey. I had to.
Otherwise I would break down.
I inhaled the chilly air, welcoming the clarity it brought to my head. It was mid-November, and the temperatures were dropping fast. I didn’t really like winter; that was why I had moved from New Hampshire to Georgia. It still got cold here, but not as much as the north.
Half a block later, I walked by a narrow alley between two shops. Movement caught my eye. I halted and saw an old man rummaging through the trash cans, a piece of orange peel in his hand. The man turned his eyes to me, and his ghastly face sent a pang through my chest. It wasn’t just the face. It was everything. His clothes were in tatters, he probably hadn’t had a shower in weeks, and his legs were almost as thin as my arms. The man was cold and starving.
Without hesitating, I approached him. “Here.” I showed him the brown bag I had received at the restaurant. “You’ll like it.” The man’s eyes became huge saucers. “Take it.” I pushed the bag toward him.
His hands shook as he took the bag from me. “Thank you,” he said, his voice frail, just like the rest of him.
The food wasn’t enough, not for me, so I took off my jacket. It was a thin suede jacket that barely did anything. I would feel a little cold without it, but I would survive. “Take this too.” I pushed the jacket to him.
“No, I can’t take that,” the old man said, his eyes huge again.
“I insist.” I pushed the jacket toward him again.
He hesitated but grabbed the jacket. “Thank you, miss. God bless you.”
I offered him a smile, then walked out of the alley so he could put on the jacket and eat in peace.
Perhaps I had just had a huge blow on my day, but it always warmed my heart when I could help out others. That meant that all was not lost yet.
With renewed determination, I ignored the cold and trudged to my favorite coffee shop. I usually ordered a latte and one of their famous croissants, but since I had to mind my budget even more now, I asked for a black coffee.
With the coffee in hand—aka, my lunch—I took a seat at a table by the large glass windows, pulled my long black hair in a messy bun, and started playing with my phone. Instead of browsing through Facebook and Instagram, I went directly to job hunting websites and searched for local gigs.
That was the disadvantage of living in a small town: there weren’t many opportunities around. I saw a few things that would require I worked overtime with a measly salary. I also saw lots of manual jobs that required strength and agility. At five foot four, and with my small frame that could be carried by the wind, I wouldn’t survive a day.
I let out a long sigh and looked out the window. It was the middle of my first day without a job. I couldn’t lose hope just yet.
Despite trying to avoid my apartment, I couldn’t wander around town all day long, especially not without a jacket. Besides, I was tired and emotionally exhausted. I had to go home, take a nice, long shower, and sle
ep. Tomorrow, after a good rest, I would regroup my thoughts and start a new search.
Praying Kimberly wasn’t home, I opened the door and stepped in.
“What the hell are you doing here at this hour?”
I inhaled deeply and tried to not let the image in front of me bother me too much. Kimberly stood in the middle of our tiny living room, wearing only a bra and panties, with a lit cigarette in one hand and nail clippers in the other. There were two empty beer bottles on the coffee table in front of her, just beside all her dead nails.
Her fake blonde hair was pulled into several foam rollers, and her makeup could be seen from three miles away.
I closed the door behind me. “What did we say about smoking inside the apartment?”
She shrugged and took another long puff. “I wasn’t expecting you so early.”
I glanced at the minuscule black dress over our torn couch. “And I see you’re going somewhere early.”
“It’s just a party,” she said with a smile. Kimberly was all about parties, all freaking day long. “A small thing at the Dark Rose Pub.”
It was always a small thing. So small, she would crawl back home with barely any clothes left and not remembering one single thing, other than she had screwed someone. Who? Only Heaven knew.
“Have f—”
“You should come,” she said, surprising me. Other than the necessary topics of two roommates, like bills and grocery shopping, we didn’t talk much. We had tried in the beginning, but after a couple of days living together, it was clear we had nothing in common. “Maybe you can loosen up a little and let someone finally get between your legs.”