Omen of Ice

by Jus Accardo

Genres: YA Paranormal

Synopsis

Serpent and Dove meets These Hollow Vows in this all-new YA fantasy series about a druid and the Fae royal she's been tasked to protect.

Keltania Tunne has spent her whole life training to become a bodyguard for a Winter Fae. It’s the highest of honors for a druid…only when Tania arrives at the Winter Court for the first time, nothing is what she expected.

Her assignment is the heir to the throne, Valen, and he doesn’t want her protection. In fact, he wants her gone. Yesterday. But Tania will not compromise, even if he is the most arrogant jackass she’s ever met—because something isn’t right in the Winter Court.

Everyone has secrets. From the Winter Lord to the kitchen maids to the rising faction that wants the prince dead—no one is who they seem. And now it’s up to Tania to keep her sacred oath and protect Valen, even when his smart mouth makes her skate the razor-thin edge between love and hate.

But the more she gets to know him, the more she realizes his secret is the biggest of all—and might just get them both killed.

Release date: August 1, 2023

Publisher: Entangled Publishing, LLC

Print pages: 400

Sample

1

Keltania

Magic is a funny thing. It can be infinitely powerful yet, at the same time, as fragile as the most delicate bloom. All it takes to lose it is a single sacrifice.

Or a single mistake.

I breathe in deep and do my best to block the chatter from the small crowd gathered across the field. There’s excitement in the air, and even the trees seem eager for the ceremony to commence. Every few moments, showers of red and gold leaves flutter down, coating the ground for several seconds before dissolving back into the earth.

“Are you ready for this?” my cousin, Alainya, whispers. She’s a bundle of nerves and excitement, fidgeting nonstop, more like a toddler than an eighteen-year-old. “Because I’m not sure if I am.”

“You are,” I promise, then grab her hand and give it a firm squeeze—to comfort her, but also to get her to stand still. The constant movement is making me twitchy.

I understand her enthusiasm. I’m excited, too. I’m just better at containing myself.

We’re barefoot, wrapped in simple white shifts made of silk. Our limbs are adorned with flowers, and vines wind between our fingers, up and around our arms. The elders say the vines signify our connection with the land. To me, the vines represent our bond with the Winter Fae. Our histories are interwoven, our fates connected with loyalty and love. We’re one. Partners, allies—friends.

We owe them everything. They ensured our survival in the days before—and during—the war. When the rest of the humans fell, the Winter Fae used their magic to make sure the druids had enough food and protection, that our shelters withstood the elemental forces from the other Fae courts.

After the war, after the Great Drain, we began repaying their kindness. Now, some of us stand at their side as guards, protecting them from harm with what little magic we retain.

Alainya turns around again. This time, there’s mischief in her eyes. “What kind of gifts do you suppose they’ll greet us with?”

I roll my eyes. “Shh!”

“I’m hoping for one of those rings I’ve heard so much about. You know, the ones that allow you to change your appearance?” She shimmies her hips. “I bet I’d look fantastic as a redhead!”

Levina, our high priestess, steps to the front of the crowd. She pins Alainya and me with a stern glare, then begins. “Thousands of years ago, Servis, the lord of the Winter Court, fell in love with our high priestess, Aphelian. When war broke out among the courts and the druids were in danger, the Winter Fae protected them. The battle raged for a decade, each court leaving behind charred forests and lands drenched in innocent blood. In the dawn of the eleventh year, the Great Drain started—the depletion of Fae magic.”

“I love this story!” Alainya

 squeals loud enough to coax my other cousins to shh her as well. “It’s so romantic.”

“Yes,” I say under my breath. “War is so romantic… Add it to the loss of all Fae magic, and you’ve got an epic fairy tale on your hands.”

Levina glares at us again, but this time Alainya bows her head, cowed. “Servis’s magic was, like that of all the other Fae, failing. Though the other courts were just as badly hampered, Aphelian feared total annihilation of her beloved and the Winter Fae. She appeared before the council of elders and begged them to give just a little bit more—half their magic. A normal Fae could never wield druid magic, but a Fae royal? Her beloved would be able. With the survival of the Winter Fae at stake, they agreed so long as Servis returned their power when it was over.

“Twelve days of meditation, and she channeled the land’s power. She harnessed it and forced half of it into a single glass tear, which she bottled and offered to the Winter Lord to give them the edge they needed to end the war victorious. Alas, the safe return of our magic was not to be. After the final battle, as Servis made to return the tear, he and Aphelian were attacked and the tear taken. Badly injured, Servis fought with everything he had to recapture his love’s magic. He sacrificed his remaining power to reclaim the tear…but it was destroyed.”

Soft chatter whispers through the crowd. We all know this story. We can recite it in our sleep. Yet each and every year, on this day, everyone in the village stands riveted, like the tale is new. Eighteen times. I’ve heard this story on the eve of the Fall Harvest Moon each year I’ve been alive. It reinforces the bond we, as descendants of Aphelian, make with the Winter Fae. A sacred partnership forged by our ancestors and carried out across generations.

One by one, the girls ahead of me, my cousins, step up. There are four of us this year. Two fewer than last. Heads held high and shoulders squared with barely contained excitement, they move with the grace of the wind. Well, all except Alainya. She’s a skilled fighter and

has a knack for herbal remedies, but sometimes it’s hard to believe she’s my age. She practically bounces forward with the enthusiasm of a small child riding a sugar-cane high.

“Are you excited?” Alainya lets out a soft giggle. “I’m so excited!”

I give up trying to quiet her and gently nudge her forward. We grew up together, and though her unbridled and irritatingly persistent optimism is annoying, I’ll miss her. She always balanced me. Where I was narrowly focused on training—her words, not mine—she remained light and full of humor. I’m the boring one—again, her words, not mine—and she’s the fun one. Night and day. She would say she’s sunshine and I’m the violent storm that rolls in from the mountains, drenching our rain-starved fields. Merciless yet healing.

Alainya always had a flair for dramatics.

When it’s my turn, I breathe in deep and step forward.

Alainya giggles, and Levina’s gaze meets mine. She holds it several seconds longer than she did the others’, and I wonder if anyone notices. We’ve always been close, and on more than one occasion, the other girls accused me of getting preferential treatment. An extra roll at dinner time, the better bunk in the dormitory tent. I’ve never seen it before, but looking at her now, seeing not only the pride in her eyes but pain as well, I know it’s true.

“Aphelian’s golden heart and Servis’s noble sacrifice are what bring us together today. Though our magic was destroyed in the war, we honor her bond with the Winter Kingdom. The past has proven that if we stand together, we can overcome anything. I, as one of her descendants, feel great joy in sending you into the loving hands of the Fae. I pray that the Goddess shines her grace upon you.”

“May the Goddess grant me her favor,” we say in unison. I’ve waited my entire life to speak those words. The thrill is nothing short of euphoric

“Keltania Tunne.” Levina bows her head and offers me the slightest nod. “You are by far the most skilled fighter I have seen in over a decade. Your agility and cunning, as well as your superior knowledge of our most obscure inkings, are an assurance to me that you will do well in their world.”

I hike up my garment and kneel before her, sinking into the soft earth. Its comforting embrace calms my fluttering nerves.

Levina rests her hand atop my head. “You are no longer Keltania Tunne. You are Aphelian, an extension of the selfless Priestess Aphelian. You are nature’s fury and her sword and the embodiment of the bond. Wield them well.”

Levina smiles and bends to retrieve the last burlap sack at her feet. It contains my share of our people’s most prized possession. Our blood ink, the last small bits of our magic. Dipping her pointer finger into the bag, she traces a symbol onto my forehead. Our crest. A large circle with a vine of ivy wrapped around it. It’s the sacred mark that will identify me as a Fae protector, an agent of honor and respect. The sigil of Aphelian.

The sensation is unpleasant, like a million tiny needle pricks breaking my skin at once. It steals my breath away, making me dizzy. But, as fast as it comes, it dissipates, leaving me with an all-over warm feeling as the magic absorbs into my skin.

“I will make our ancestors proud,” I whisper.

We call it ink, but it’s dirt. Scraped from a sacred section of earth and mixed with deep red pigment, it’s blessed by the acting high priestess and imbued with a tiny kernel of the remnants of our power. Every descendant of Aphelian gets her own share, for times of crisis when we need a boost of power or strength. It allows us to channel what’s left of our people’s magic and temporarily reclaim a small bit of the glory we once knew by tracing sigils onto our skin with the ink.

From somewhere behind me, Alainya lets out another excited squeal. Levina’s lips  quirk

, and my other cousins whisper for her to stay quiet.

Levina steps back and closes the pouch, careful not to spill any of the ink. “You have all been marked and have the ink of Aphelian in your veins. Make our people proud.”

From this day forward, each sigil I use will mark my skin with a red tattoo. The marks are alive, churning and shimmering with power. It’s unsettling to some who see them, but our sigils are worn with pride, symbols of bravery and unyielding loyalty. Like Aphelian before me, I’ll use the magic to protect the Fae as they once protected us. With their own power gone, the Fae of the Winter Lands—once called Aroberg—are vulnerable. Their prosperity breeds hatred among the nomadic survivors from the other courts as well as the magic-starved creatures that border their lands.

Levina takes my face in her hands as the crowd around us cheers. “Go with the Goddess, my child. I know one day we will meet again.”

“Thank you for all you’ve done for me.” Because of Levina, I’ve trained harder than the others, studied longer, and pushed myself further. Because of Levina, I earned one of the most coveted assignments the Order has ever received. “I will make you proud.”

“My dear…” She brushes her hand across my cheek and smiles. The pride I see in her eyes, the confidence in me, makes my chest ache. I just hope I can live up to her expectations. “I know you will.”

I smile and move to turn away, but Levina holds tight. For a moment—just a moment—I swear I see a flicker of regret in her eyes.

…

The next morning, after changing and gathering my things—everything I own easily fits into a single pack—I’m shown to a chestnut mare with an intricately braided mane, then led down the overgrown path at the northern corner of the Order grounds. The other Aphelians left the night before, in the pre-twilight hours following the feast. I wished

 them well, knowing I’d likely never see them again.

My Winter Fae companions—a broad-shouldered Fae who’d introduced himself as Kopic as we began our trek, and a Fae named Wella with silvery-white hair and an expression that could easily sour milk—lead the way to my new home. We travel north on horseback for three days, stopping for very short periods of time to rest. The Fae seem eager to get home, and there’s little conversation. As we travel, I run through all I’ve been told about my charge.

Levina didn’t say much. Not his name or placement in the Winter Court, but I know he loves books and learning, has a small degree of fighting skills, and is well-liked—particularly among the females. With his love of books, the logical guess would be that he has some kind of advisory position. But given that the only other thing I know about him—he’s just a year older than my eighteen—that seems unlikely. Then again, the Fae do things differently than we do.

Eventually, I give up speculating. Whatever he does, whoever he is, we’ll make an amazing team. The details don’t matter.

I’ve never been outside Lunal. The terrain is both beautiful and terrifying. Our lands aren’t exactly lush, but the decay I see here is brutal. Shriveled and calcified tree trunks and eternally rotting foliage dot the landscape. But, as disconcerting as it is, there’s something strong about it. Something unwilling to yield. The magic drained from the land, yet the forest has refused to fall.

The farther we travel, the narrower the path becomes. When I start to think passage will become impossible, we emerge from the mist-laden brush, the temperature shockingly colder.

Even though I’ve spent hours reading about the Winter Lands and know to expect the abrupt temperature change, I still can’t fight off the involuntary chattering of my teeth.

Ten steps out of the woods

, the shriveled brush and rotten foliage are gone, replaced by a thick blanket of glinting snow. It’s more beautiful than I could have ever imagined, and the paintings I saw in our books haven’t done it justice.

“Wow…”

“Impressive, isn’t it?” Kopic laughs. It’s a warm sound that eases my nerves just a bit. It’s the most he’s said to me since we started out. “I was born here, and it never fails to steal my breath away.”

His companion isn’t nearly as friendly. She snorts and rolls her eyes. Where the other Fae’s disposition now seems sunny and warm, hers matches the cold landscape as she adds, “Yes. Stunning. Maybe we can gawk at it after we’re settled back at the estate?”

In the distance, there’s a sprawling manor at the end of a long, snow-covered path lined with miraculously blooming fruit trees. Apples, pears, and… I pull up hard on my reins and lean closer to the tall, white-barked tree closest to me.

“No… It can’t be!”

I rub a silky leaf between my fingers, half expecting it to be fake. It isn’t. Despite the falling snow and freezing air, the leaf is warm and undamaged. Thriving, even. I inhale. A long-forgotten scent fills my nose and brings a rush of childhood memories flooding to the surface. “Is this a hilpberry tree?”

Kopic nods, smiling.

“When fungus came in my tenth year, we tried to save them, but in the end, the decision was made to let them perish. A painful choice, but our dwindling resources were better spent elsewhere.” Channeling what was left of our magic to save a single species of plant, possibly risking the extinction of many others, hadn’t been worth the risk.

“Understandable,” he says.

I shift in the saddle and nod to the rest of the trees, all just as vibrant and alive as the hilpberry. “How is this possible?” A gust of wind blows, and I shiver

. The trees should all be dormant in this kind of weather. “It’s almost like you still have—”

“Magic?” Wella supplies. She doesn’t smile as much as bare her teeth. “We do.”

I nearly fall off my horse. “What?”

“That’s not totally accurate.” Kopic glares at her. “There are trace amounts of druid power still left in the land. From the war, and…” He points beyond the gate, to a statue of a Fae man and a human woman, both kneeling in front of each other. “There. That’s where your priestess presented Lord Servis with the magic to win the war. It was on that same spot, nearly twelve years later, he tried to return it. When they were attacked and the vessel shattered, it bled the power into the grounds, imbuing the land.”

“Come,” Wella says with the smallest hint of irritation. I get the feeling she doesn’t like me for some reason. It’s fine. She doesn’t have to. “The Winter Lord is waiting.”

She nudges her steed, and away they go, bounding down the lane toward the estate and leaving me to gawk at her words. “The Winter Lord? My charge is the Winter Lord?”

Kopic cocks his head to the side and studies me for a moment. “Not the Winter Lord, exactly, but a member of the royal family. Did you not know?”

“I was only given a few details about my new partner and told he was a member of the court. Have you been acting as his guard?”

“No. I’ve been the emissary for the Lady Liani for the last twenty years.” He offers a slight bow from the back of his horse, then gestures toward the estate.

“Twenty years?” Even though I try not to gawk, I know I’m staring. He doesn’t look a day over that. Glittering eyes, snow-white hair—he’s beautiful. Just like every other Fae.

“I’m much older than I look.” He smiles. “Excuse Wella’s disposition. She’s…an acquired taste. You’ll be taking her place as Valen’s guard.”

“Valen.” The name rolls comfortably off my tongue. “He’s my new charge?”

“Yes. He’s Lord Orbik's

only nephew. The Winter Lord has no heir, so I suppose Valen is technically next in line—not that Orbik has any plans of abdicating.”

“I look forward to meeting him. He must be very special.”

“Not really.” He looks back and forth, then leans in a bit closer. “He’s actually kind of a pain in the ass.” Kopic points to the hilpberry tree. “You’re welcome to sample it if you’d like. They’re one of my personal favorites.”

Memories of the sweet fruit tempt me. Popping berries by the handful as a child, sucking on them until they exploded in my mouth. Unparalleled sweetness followed by a small burst of bitterness. I remember the tartness of the seed splitting against my tongue like it was just yesterday.

When a Fae offers you something, it’s considered deeply disrespectful to decline. I’m not hungry, but the last thing I want to do is insult anyone so early into my assignment. “I appreciate it. Thank you.” I pluck several berries from the tree and pop them into my mouth.

Kopic does the same. His eyes roll back into his head, and he lets out a moan. “Delicious, aren’t they?”

“My memory doesn’t do them justice.” I straighten and gather my reins, unable to wait any longer. The berries are a nice surprise, but I’m dying to meet Valen. Plus, I’m freezing. Frostbite isn’t exactly how I want to start my time in the Winter Court. “Shall we continue?”

With a nod, Kopic spurs his horse forward, and we canter down the path. When we reach the grand gateway, there are two hulking guards stationed on either end. Their armor is sleeveless, offering no protection from the harsh wind and cold. I’m jealous. I’ve heard the cold doesn’t bother Winter Fae. Me? I stopped feeling my fingers and toes a day ago.

We ride through the gate and around the back of the estate, to a massive brick-faced stable. Like the pathway leading to the house, it’s surrounded by flowering

plants despite the harsh winter conditions. Large blooms in varying shades of blue and purple hang from vines that grow up the side of the building. The roof, covered in slightly frosted moss, comes to a high point, then drops low to overhang a small receiving area, where two stable maids, both in riding leathers, wait.

“This…this is all residual magic from the tear?”

Kopic smiles. “I’ve heard druid magic was truly a wonderous thing. It rivaled our own in fortitude. Some Fae were envious of it. Even with the destruction of the tear, it remained in the land, unlike our own power, which ebbed from all things.”

It seems like such a far distance from the destruction site for residual magic to still be affecting the land. But maybe there’s still a bit of Fae power left. Maybe, like the Aphelians’, it partners with the druid power to create this small miracle.

“Did you journey well?” the shorter of the two stable maids asks as Kopic pulls his horse to a stop and dismounts. She brushes a stray cerulean lock from her face and smiles as she positions herself close, eyes greedily soaking up every inch of his impressive form.

“I did,” is Kopic’s response. He seems oblivious to her attention as he extends a hand to help me from my horse. “Is Valen on the grounds?”

The other maid shakes her head. She’s taller than the first, with well-toned arms and deep red hair gathered in a severe ponytail. “He’s with Buri. Lord Orbik intends to present the Aphelian to him this evening, at the festivities.”

Kopic groans. “They still haven’t told him?”

Both stable maids shake their heads.

“Wait…” I hold up my hand, sure I’m misunderstanding. “Are you saying Valen doesn’t know he’s been assigned an Aphelian guard?” Getting assigned an Aphelian isn’t something generally kept a secret. It’s an honor worth bragging about because there aren’t many of us anymore. Why haven’t they told him?

He’s kind of a pain

in the ass…

An ember of concern works its way into my chest. Is Valen going to be a handful? Not that it matters. I’m adaptable.

Still… It would be nice to know what I’m walking into.

Kopic sighs and gestures for me to follow him. We walk away from the stable, onto a path lined with red and pink roses. The fragrant scent reminds me of summers in the field behind the training arena in Lunal.

“Valen is under the assumption that he needs no protection,” Kopic says. “Unfortunately, that’s not the case.”

I pull my attention from the blooms and force my mind to focus. Okay. So maybe he’s just proud. Determined to maintain independence. I can see how having a partner, a protector, forced on you might be unpleasant. “I’ll need a list of his enemies. His daily schedule and—”

“Everything you need has been gathered and is waiting.” Kopic points toward the estate. “For now, we must get you ready. You can’t go before the royal family of the Winter Lands looking like that.”

 

2

Valen

My uncle’s party is going strong, and as I reach the edge of the courtyard and slip into the main hall of the estate, I pause. The sound of chortling and music drifts out from the ballroom on the other side of the hallway. Another extravagant ball thrown to celebrate some pathetic event he’s declared a victory. At one time, we celebrated real triumph. Far back before I was born, but I’ve heard the stories. Now, we reward the smallest mediocrities, because they’re all we have left.

Kopic rounds the corner at the opposite end of the hall, and I spin, hoping to duck into the alcove before he sees me.

“Valen! Wait.”

“Damn it,” I mutter. My aunt Liani’s head guard, the ever-present thorn in my ass, starts toward me. Ladies to be charmed, drinks to be consumed—sleep to be had—and Kopic’s favorite pastime is to get in my way. He’s not a bad guy…he’s just missing a personality. And a sense of humor. Possibly even a libido. I’ve never seen a Fae so oblivious to the adoration of those around him.

He crosses to me in three large strides. I’m not offended by the perpetual grimace on his face. It’s a greeting reserved solely for me. But I suppose I’ve more than earned it—a fact I take great amounts of pride in.

“I’ve been looking for you.”

“I’m sure you have.” I turn and start walking back to the east wing. There’s a flask in my pocket and at least one more bottle of wine left in my room. I just have to remember where I hid it… “I’ll save you the trouble. I was not the one who raided the wine cellar last night.”

Not a lie. Technically, I sent someone else to do it for me.

“Lady Liani wants to speak to you.” He sprints past and positions himself in front of me, arms folded and lips set in a grim line.

I stop short, study him, and sigh. “You look like you’re in pain, Kopic. Constipated, perhaps?” I jab a finger at him. “You should eat more fiber.”

He ignores my sarcasm—like usual—and maintains his stony expression. “Liani wants to confirm you’ll be in attendance tonight. She and Orbik need to speak with you.”

“Have you ever known me to miss a party?” The same group of Fae drinking, eating, and cavorting until they can no longer stand on their own provides an endless source of amusement. Plus, I’m never at a loss for company. My uniquely colored violet eyes have garnered many admirers over the years. The royal blood in my veins probably doesn’t hurt, either.

“Lord Orbik and Lady Liani would like you to join them promptly.”

I flash him my most practiced grin. “Kopic, I believe my aunt wants me

 there, but my uncle? I think we both know better.” Unlike my peers in the court, the Winter Lord finds my presence disturbing. I once overheard him tell Kopic that he wanted me tossed into the woods as an infant. A feast for the wolves that lurk outside our gates.

Kopic’s expression softens. “You look so much like his beloved sister. I’m sure—”

“Not to worry, old-timer. I’m not about to cry over it.” I wink. “Look at it this way. His treatment of me is the perfect excuse to drink!”

The grimace returns to his face as he nods at the door. “I assume you can find your way inside?”

I wave toward the ballroom with a flourish. Escaping him at this point is out of the question, so I might as well go with it. Kopic puts up with my antics, but he’ll drag me into the party kicking and screaming if need be. That would end badly for both of us. “I don’t think it’ll be a problem.”

“Just to be sure, I’ll wait here. You know—in case you get lost along the way.”

I bow. “Your kindness knows no limits. I owe you a gift. Perhaps something to unclench your ass?”

He grumbles and points to the door. I whirl and start walking, shuffling my feet to the beat of the music coming from the ballroom.

I feel his gaze on me as I make my way toward the party and slip inside through the southern entrance. The hall outside the ballroom teems with party guests. They offer enthusiastic greetings as I pass, dressed in their finery, the most lavish silks and jewels the kingdom has to offer, all in the Winter Lord’s bland signature colors—silver and ice-blue. I once suggested changing them to orange and green. No one was amused.

Music drifts from the cavernous room, a spirited melody that has a generous portion of the

guests dancing with a frenzy. Cheers and laughter ring out. They mingle with the sound of clinking glasses and clanging cutlery. It’s a familiar—and somewhat predictable—scene of revelry that my uncle has become known for.

Orbik sits at the front of the hall, seated with my aunt behind the main table. He’s talking to Fedica, one of the winter nymphs who oversees Havierst, the small forest that borders the Winter Lands in the south. His crown glints, the ice-diamonds making Fedica wince each time he tilts his head and they catch the light. There are rumors that he wears the damned thing to bed, and it wouldn’t surprise me in the slightest. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if it has become fused to his huge head.

Several wood nymphs join the conversation, and they look less than thrilled. Relationships with the nymphs have become tense in recent months. Stragglers from the remains of the other courts are becoming more brazen, their desperation pushing them across our borders. ...