The Impostor Queen by Sarah Fine

Author:Sarah Fine
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, pdf
Publisher: Margaret K. McElderry Books

CHAPTER 14

This is no flurry of flakes but a raging blizzard. Avalanches rolling with killing speed into the rocky basin of my skull. Icicles sharp as knives, slicing and carving. I yank my hand away, breathing hard. I’ve seen the frozen Motherlake, the frost that coats the marsh grass, rivulets of ice along the cave walls. But never have I experienced anything like the frigid horror of the last few seconds.

Oskar’s not shivering anymore. His long, dark lashes shadow the hollow above his cheekbones. His mouth is surprisingly soft when he’s at rest, and I have the insane urge to skim my fingertip over the little bow on his upper lip. He exhales, and it’s not foggy and frozen.

What just happened?

I lay my hand on his cheek again. The onslaught is less jarring this time, but it’s still powerful. And it’s definitely coming from him. Are these his dreams? They’re made of the rub and tear of ice on ice, thick slabs of it colliding and shearing off, shattering into countless deadly shards. They’re blinding white and glittering and so cold it burns. But as I sit there, my palm to his skin, the brutal edge begins to dull. The hard ice pellets turn to heavy, wet snow. The ice sinks into the earth.

Because of me, I realize. I stare at the place where my skin touches Oskar’s. And then I close my eyes as the icy magic crosses the barrier between us and fills my hollow chest.

Raimo compared me to the copper lightning rods that adorn most of the buildings in the city of Kupari. He said I could amplify magic, though I have no idea how I could do that, and he also said I could absorb it. That must be what I’m doing now. I smile as Oskar’s cheek turns from frigid to cool under my touch.

He jerks away from me, and my eyes fly open. His are alight with fury as he scoots backward, pulling his cloak around him. “What in stars are you doing?” he whispers.

I look down at my palm, which is damp with the ice that melted off his skin. “I was . . .”

He rubs his hand over his face and pulls his fingers through his dark hair, which falls loose to his shoulders. “How long have you been there?”

I completely lost track of time while I was touching him. “Only a few minutes? Oskar—”

He pulls his knees to his chest, like he needs to put a wall between us. “Did you see . . .” He clenches his teeth. “Why did you come out here? Can’t you respect a man’s privacy?”

“I wanted to help,” I say, edging a little closer.

His brows lower. “I don’t need any help.”

“It looked painful.”

He grips the fabric over his shins and looks away. I can tell he’s thinking about the ice, how it waits for him to slip into dreaming so it can carve the meat from his bones. But then his eyes narrow as his gaze abruptly returns to me.

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