Chapter 8 - The Price of Ice
“Elian!”
Claire screamed as the king collapsed forward, his heavy frame crashing onto the stone floor of the chamber.
She dropped to her knees beside him, grabbing his shoulders. The transformation was terrifying to behold. Thick, jagged crystals of pure blue frost were bursting from beneath the collar of his shirt, racing up his neck with terrifying speed, coating his skin in a deadly, frozen shell.
“The… the curse,” Elian wheezed, his breath turning to thick clouds of ice vapor in the room. His fingers clawed weakly at the stone floor, his eyes losing their focus as the deadly frost reached his jawline. “It’s… it’s taking my heart, Claire… I told you…”
“No! You are not dying on me!” Claire sobbed, panic tearing through her soul like a physical blade.
She remembered what her father and the inquisitors had tried to destroy. The very magic they had branded her for. Pyromancy. The forbidden, untamed fire locked deep within her bloodline.
Without a moment’s hesitation, Claire ripped off her glove, pressed her bare palm directly against Elian’s ice-covered chest, right over his failing heart, and unleashed everything she had.
Golden-orange fire roared from her palm, flooding into his freezing body.
The pain was excruciating. The magical backlash of fire fighting ancient, royal ice sent shockwaves through Claire’s nervous system, tearing at her veins, but she refused to let go. She poured her entire life force, her soul, her fierce, desperate love into his chest, burning away the frost crystal by crystal.
“Burn, damn you!” Claire cried out, tears streaming down her face, her voice echoing off the stone walls as golden fire engulfed them both in a blinding cocoon of light.
For a terrifying eternity, there was no movement.
Then, deep beneath her palm, a heavy, resonant thud echoed.
Thump.
Thump-thump.
Elian’s chest heaved. A sharp, ragged gasp tore from his throat as color violently rushed back into his cheeks. The frost shattering into glittering dust around them, evaporating into the air as normal, warm blood pumped through his veins for the first time in his entire life.
Elian’s eyes fluttered open. The ice in his gray irises was gone, replaced by a warm, living depth.
He stared up at Claire, who was kneeling over him, trembling, exhausted, and bleeding slightly from her palms where the magic had broken through her skin.
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“Claire…” he whispered, his voice steady, warm, and entirely human. He reached up, his hand no longer freezing, but burning with life, and gently cupped her cheek. “You… you saved me.”
“You idiot,” Claire sobbed, collapsing against his chest as he wrapped his powerful arms around her, pulling her close into a fierce, unbreakable embrace. “Don’t you ever dare leave me again.”
