Page 104 of A Lady’s Guide to Fae Kings

“What are you waiting for?” Hellebore shouted, hurtling past her, clothes bloody and torn by the hedges. She ran straight into the violent waters without pausing.

Pippa followed with distinctly less enthusiasm.

The water lapped at her ankles, then pushed at her knees. It was the shock of cold that crumbled the last of the haziness wrapping around her. The fog and the fatigue had leached more from her than she had realized. The cold was a relief.

For a moment.

She swam hard, keeping her eye on the green island with the towering mound. Moving through the churning waters was difficult enough. The weight pulled at her and tired her almost immediately, even though she was accustomed to swimming in the sea around Lyonesse. Shadows moved beneath her, dark and impossibly large. And probably hungry.

She fought the current, spat out water that tasted like iron. Rowanberries bobbed like drops of blood. Molly’s head went under for too many breaths. Pippa was too far away to be of any help. She could barely keep afloat. Molly finally resurfaced, gasping.

Pippa forced herself to keep swimming. Mists stretched over the waves, seeking, seeking. The cold lashed at her and even her fire was not enough to warm her. Her teeth chattered violently. That was when she realized the water felt different. It wasn’t just cold; it was thick and slushy.

And rapidly turning to ice.

“Swim faster!” Roman bellowed. The creaking of ice was loud and scraped against nerves and bones and blood. “The lake is freezing around us!”

Pippa’s breath turned white, and the cold clawed at her, sharp and relentless. She pushed the last of her energy into her magic, opening invisible cage doors inside herself, releasing every hound made of fire that she had ever tried to cage, every moth-shaped flame, every ember she had smothered. Warm light streaked through the water. Ice boiled, melted, re-formed. The flickering reds made it seem as though hell had also opened its cage doors below.

Jude slammed his fist through the ice, trying to break free. Hellebore used her daggers and a vocabulary that would have made an Iron Crow blush. Roman thrashed free. Pippa’s lips were turning blue even with the benefit of her fire.

She pushed forward, flames streaking out all around her like bright, shining ribbons. “With me,” she gasped out, treading water still cold enough to feel like needles through her legs. “You’re too far away—we need to be together.”

It took far too long for the others to fight their way toward her, panting and choking for air that did not turn to ice in the nostrils. Pippa’s thighs felt like boiled lettuce. She dug her toes into the sand, trying to find purchase. Her skirts wrapped around her legs, tangled and heavy. She kept her hands under the water, pushing fire through her body even though she knew it was risky. She simply no longer had the energy to call it from the air, to send her magic searching for an answering spark.

Heat and light radiated from her, not enough to completely melt the ice but enough to soften its edges, to slow its progress. The others swam as hard as they were able, teeth chattering and lips turning purple. Pippa finally dragged herself onto the shore, steam rising from her skin. She was blearily aware of the others doing the same. Her heart was a blacksmith’s hammer, echoing throughout her entire body. She pushed weakly into a sitting position. No one seemed inclined to fight or run for the next part of the trial. Breathing took every ounce of energy.

“Where’s Molly?” Roman demanded suddenly, charging back toward the water. He had abandoned his armor somewhere along the way, keeping only his daggers and his axe. Neither of which were of much use at the moment. Molly was too far away, trapped by the ice.

Pippa crawled to the water’s edge, clawing at the sparks and embers of her magic. Her hair was freezing against her neck, even as fire gathered in her ribcage. Too much heat, but what choice did she have? She reached out, her witch knot slapping the surface of the water. Magic simmered and boiled through her, through the water, shooting in arrows of light toward Molly.

Roman trudged forward, grim-mouthed. He smashed at the ice until it heaved and cracked, gaze never leaving Molly. “Go back,” she panted weakly. “Idiot.”

Pippa pushed more fire toward them. Her palm prickled and burned. A fever prowled through her, threatening to sap what power she had left. She gritted her teeth. She could do this. Fire had had her long enough. She had fire now.

She swore she could hear hounds howling. The clouds started to change shape, forming stags and horses and dogs. The Wild Hunt. They did not only claim oathbreakers, but they claimed the dead, when they could.

Fire shot through the water, leaving trails of boiling heat. When the ice relented, Roman grabbed Molly’s arm and hauled her along, dragging her out of the devouring lake.

The clouds subsided.

Pippa wilted, witch knot blistered. Smoke was acrid in her nose, in her throat.

“You keep saving us,” Molly panted beside her, bedraggled and spent. Her smile was more of a grimace. “You’re not very good at this, are you?”

It took half an hour for anyone to even consider attempting to push on with the next part of the Labyrinth.

And that was only because the Fae spectators were growing bored. The hiss of displeased voices and the thump of feet on the ground swelled around them. The waves slapped at the shore, encroaching closer and closer, pushing them onward.

“I guess giving up is not an option,” Jude muttered.

“It never was,” Hellebore reminded him. “The spell’s been cast, hasn’t it? Do or die.”

“Do and die,” he corrected her.

“On that cheerful note,” Molly said, “let’s go. I don’t fancy being that cold again.” She eyed Pippa. “You get a head start. She saved our lives,” she explained, shooting a glare at the others. “All of our lives.”

“Thanks for that.” Hellebore smiled, showing her teeth. “But I never agreed to terms.”