A COURT OF FROZEN HEARTS

Chapter 7

I had been walking for several hours.

The sun had risen higher, but it hadn't grown warmer. Pale light broke through the bare branches, casting long, distorted shadows on the frost-covered ground.

The forest around me was dead. Quiet. Too quiet.

No birds. No rustling of leaves. No cracking of twigs under animal paws.

Only my footsteps—careful, muffled by moss—disturbed this deathly silence.

I kept to the landmark—the tree with the split trunk that the Wanderer had pointed out. It was still visible ahead, between other trees. As long as I could see it, I wasn't straying from the path.

East. Two days.

My body ached. Every step echoed in my muscles—my legs throbbed from yesterday's flight, my back burned from the weight of the backpack, the scratches on my hands stung.

But I couldn't stop.

Every hour here meant another night when he would come. Another mark on my skin.

I instinctively touched my neck, where the frost pattern still remained a cold spot.

In the Borderlands he won't be able to. There I'll be safe at night.

This thought urged me on, made me walk faster despite the exhaustion.

***

By midday I reached a stream.

Narrow, fast, with crystal-clear water running between stones. I stopped, listening.

Silence. No sounds of pursuit.

The White Lady hadn't found me. Not yet.

I dropped to my knees by the water, took off my backpack. I pulled out the nearly empty bottle, scooped cold water from the stream, filled it to the brim.

Rule from the book: "Running water is safe. Drink only from rivers and streams, avoid stagnant lakes."

I took several large gulps. The water was ice-cold, burned my throat, but I drank greedily, feeling the thirst recede.

Then I took out one of the isotonic drink packets the gas station attendant had given me. Poured the powder into the bottle, shook it. The water turned pale orange.

Took a sip—sweet-salty taste, but strength began returning.

Electrolytes. That attendant was smart.

Then food. I rummaged in the backpack—jerky, nuts, energy bar. Chose the bar—high-calorie, compact. Tore open the package, bit off a piece.

Chewed slowly, forcing myself to eat.

While I ate, my gaze slid over the forest.

The trees here were taller, more ancient. The trunks were covered with patterns glowing with faint green light.

Some were whispering.

I turned away, ignoring them.

Don't listen.

Finished the bar, hid the wrapper. Leaned toward the stream to wash my face.

And then a voice came from behind:

"And here I thought you'd died in a ditch somewhere."

I cried out and jerked forward—my hands hit the cold water, my face a hair's breadth from the surface, nearly dove in.

My heart pounded wildly.

I spun around, pulling out my knife.

On a large boulder, leg crossed over leg, sprawled as if at home, sat the Fox.

Red hair tousled. Amber eyes gleaming. Leather jacket with feathers. On his face—a wide, impudent, unbearably smug smile.

"Good morning, sunshine!" He waved. "Or is it afternoon already? Hell if I know, time here is such a slippery thing."

Fury.

White. Searing. Fury.

I jumped up and rushed at him, not thinking.

"YOU!" I screamed, and my voice broke into a shout. "YOU, BASTARD!"

The knife aimed at his throat.

He didn't even move. Just sat there, smiling, as if I was bringing him flowers, not a deadly threat.

"YOU DECEIVED ME!" I was a step away from him. "BEGGED FOR A FAVOR! FOR HELP! AND THEN SENT ME TO MY DEATH!"

The Fox tilted his head, as if not understanding.

"Me? Sent you to your death?" He pressed his hand to his chest. "Darling, you wound me. I helped!"

"HELPED?!" I swung the knife. "YOU SAID TO GO SOUTH! TO THE RED MOON! AND THERE'S HIS PALACE! THE HEART OF WINTER!"

He blinked. Once. Then laughed—ringing, sincere.

"Ah-h-h. So that's what this is about." He scratched the back of his head. "Well technically, you know, I didn't exactly lie."

"NOT EXACTLY?!"

"Well, I said you needed to get to the Borderlands, right?" He raised a finger. "And that's the pure truth. You really do need to go there."

"YOU SAID SOUTH!"

"Hmm." He thought, looking at the sky. "Possibly I got the direction wrong. It happens. Geography isn't my strong suit."

I swung the knife, aiming for his throat.

He vanished.

Simply dissolved into air.

The knife cut through emptiness.

"Hey-hey, easy there!" The voice came from the right.

I turned.

The Fox sat on another boulder, swinging his leg.

"I understand you're upset. But murder is such a radical step, don't you think?"

I showed him my middle finger.

He clapped, laughing.

"Oh! Gestures! I like it!" He jumped off the stone. "Though I'm not sure what that means. Something pleasant?"

"It means 'go fuck yourself,'" I growled.

"Ah." He nodded. "Got it. Very expressive."

I turned, walked to my backpack, ignoring him.

Don't react. He likes it.

But he didn't back off.

Appeared next to me, walking in step.

"You know, you're offending me quite unfairly." He chattered without closing his mouth. "I transported you across the river! Saved you from the Wild Pack! You'd be dead now without me!"

I silently threw the backpack over my shoulders.

"And anyway, if you think about it, I'm incredibly useful." He continued. "Handsome, charming, with an excellent sense of humor. What girl doesn't dream of such a companion?"

I walked away.

He teleported, appeared in front of me.

"Why are you so angry? Maybe you're just hungry? They say people get angry when they're hungry." He pulled an apple from somewhere—red, perfect, gleaming in the dim light. "Want some? My treat."

"Fuck off," I walked around him.

He appeared next to me again.

"Okay, you don't want the apple. I understand. The rule about fae food." The apple disappeared. "How about information? Want to know what's ahead?"

I kept walking, not answering.

"Stubborn." He sighed. "Well, okay. I'll tell you for free, out of the goodness of my heart."

He jumped over a tree root, landed in front of me, walking backward.

"See that glow ahead?" He pointed with his thumb behind him. "That's the clearing of Dream Sirens. Huge. Beautiful. Deadly."

I saw pink radiance between the trees.

"And you know what's the most fun?" He grinned. "There's no way around."

I stopped.

"What?"

"To the right—the Rotten Swamp. The drowned live there. They drag you to the bottom and devour you alive." He pointed left. "To the left—the den of Black Dogs. A pack of Morphrost's hounds. If you go there—they'll eat you in seconds."

He spread his arms.

"Ahead—the Siren clearing. Back—well, back there Morphrost and his hunters are driving you here." A smile. "So the choice, my dear, is quite limited."

I clenched my fists.

"Then I'll go through the clearing."

"Oh! Brave!" He clapped. "I like it! But, you know, the clearing is wide. Five hundred meters, at least. And the Siren scent…" he grimaced, "…very strong. You'll fall asleep halfway. Guaranteed."

He came closer, peering into my eyes.

"But-t-t," he drawled, "I can help. Again. Teleport you straight to the other side. Bam—and you're there. Safe. Alive."

His smile grew wider.

"Just for one little favor. A second one. You'll owe me two favors. Think about it—it's nothing! Two tiny little favors for your precious life!"

He circled around me, chattering non-stop.

"I can even tell you what favors I'll ask! Well, roughly. In general terms. Nothing terrible, I promise! Maybe I'll ask you to steal something shiny. Or play a prank on someone. Or…"

"No," I cut him off.

He stopped.

"No? Seriously?" He pressed his hand to his chest. "Darling, you disappoint me. I'm offering an excellent deal!"

"Excellent for you," I growled.

"Well naturally!" He spread his arms. "I'm not running a charity. This is business. You get life, I get debt. Fair trade!"

I walked past him, toward the clearing.

One favor already hanging. Two is a noose around my neck. Don't agree.

But how to get through the clearing?

The smell was already noticeable—sweet, intoxicating.

My head began spinning.

Think. Fast. How to get through?

Hold my breath? The clearing is too wide. Not enough air.

Run fast? The smell will still penetrate.

Plug my nose? They say the smell penetrates through skin.

Damn. What to do?

"Clock's ticking, darling!" the Fox sang behind me. "Soon the clearing. Decide faster. Two favors or eternal sleep in the embrace of flowers?"

He appeared next to me, walking in step.

"By the way, you know how Dream Sirens kill?" He spoke cheerfully, as if telling a joke. "First they put you to sleep. You lie down, all sweet and calm. And then the roots start growing. Through the skin. Inside. They feed on your flesh while you sleep."

He snapped his fingers.

"And the funniest thing—you don't feel pain! You sleep, see beautiful dreams, while they slowly devour you from inside." Laughter. "Romantic, right?"

Nausea rose in my throat.

"Shut up."

"Oh, touched a nerve?" He grinned. "Just want you to understand the consequences of refusal. Informed decision and all that."

I stopped, closed my eyes, trying to think.

How? How to get through?

And then it flashed in my head.

The smell. Need to mask the smell.

With what?

I remembered how the first night I smoked a cigarette. How the smoke overpowered the cloying smell of this world's air.

Tobacco. Sharp. Acrid.

Might work?

I quickly dug into my jacket pocket, felt the cigarette pack.

The Fox watched with curiosity.

"What are you up to?"

I didn't answer. Pulled out a cigarette, lit it with a match.

Inhaled deeply.

The smoke burned my lungs, made me cough. But the sharp, bitter smell of tobacco instantly overpowered the sweetness of the air.

"Oh-h-h." The Fox stepped back, wrinkling his nose. "What is this filth?"

I exhaled smoke, feeling my head clear.

"Tobacco."

"Tobacco?" He pinched his nose with his fingers. "This is disgusting! How do you people even smoke this?!"

"Habit," I shrugged.

Took another drag. The smoke enveloped me in a cloud, sharp and acrid.

This might work. If I smoke while walking through the clearing, the tobacco smell will overpower the flower scent.

The Fox looked at me with horror and admiration simultaneously.

"You… you seriously plan to cross the clearing with this… this…" he pointed at the cigarette, "…crap?"

I took another drag, exhaled smoke directly toward him.

He recoiled, waving his hands, fanning away the smoke.

"EW! EW! WHAT ABOMINATION!" He coughed, bending in half. "ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL ME?!"

Despite everything, I smirked.

"Maybe."

"THIS IS PURE POISON!" He was still coughing. "WHAT SORCERY?! WHAT CURSED HUMAN WITCHCRAFT?!"

I took another drag, enjoying his reaction.

"No witchcraft. Regular cigarettes." Exhaled smoke. "Humans smoke for pleasure."

The Fox looked at me as if I'd gone mad.

"FOR PLEASURE?!" He stepped back further. "You… you're all sick there! Completely! This is POISON! I can feel it corroding the air!"

He continued rushing about, covering his nose with his hand.

"Put it away! Put it away immediately! Or I… I…"

"What?" I raised an eyebrow. "Will help me for free?"

He froze. Looked at me. Then burst out laughing.

"You're cunning!" He pointed at me. "Very cunning! Trying to manipulate me!"

I shrugged, taking a drag.

"Learning from the best."

The Fox snorted, but respect splashed in his eyes.

"Fine. Fine! You won this round." He stepped back, waving his hand. "Go with your stinking poison. Let's see if your insane plan works."

He disappeared—but the voice remained, echoing between trees:

"But the favor still hangs, darling! I'll come for it! Soon! VERY SOON!"

The laughter dissolved in the air.

I was alone.

Looked at the clearing ahead—pink radiance, alluring, promising.

Took another drag on the cigarette.

Here we go.

And walked forward.

***

The clearing was a nightmare.

Flowers grew everywhere—a dense, endless carpet. Huge buds the size of my head, glowing with soft pink light. Petals shimmered like silk.

The smell was suffocating.

Even through the cigarette smoke it broke through—sweet, cloying, promising peace.

I walked quickly, taking a drag every few seconds. The smoke burned my throat, my lungs screamed, but I didn't stop.

My head was spinning.

My eyelids were growing heavy.

So tempting to lie down. Rest. Just for a minute…

I bit my lip until it bled. The pain sobered me.

Walk. Just walk.

The flowers rustled around. Whispered. Called my name.

"Elise… Elise… lie with us… rest…"

"SHUT UP!" I screamed.

The voice rolled in an echo, and for a moment the whisper stopped.

Then resumed—louder, more insistent.

The cigarette burned out. I spat out the butt, pulled out a new one, lit it with trembling hands.

Took a drag.

A little more. The edge of the clearing was close.

Ahead, between the flowers, trees were visible.

Almost. Almost.

My legs were buckling. My head was swimming.

But I forced myself to walk.

Step. Another step. Another.

Finally—trees.

I collapsed beyond the clearing's edge, on my knees, gasping for air.

Spat out the butt. Coughed so hard I bent double. My lungs burned with fire. My throat was raw. In my mouth—the taste of ash, blood, and something metallic.

But I made it through.

I MADE IT THROUGH!

The relief was so strong that tears came on their own. I fell on my back, arms spread, looking at the gray sky through the tangle of bare branches.

I breathed. Just breathed. Each breath was a victory.

"Incredible."

The voice sounded from somewhere above.

I struggled to raise my head, squinting.

The Fox sat on a thick branch right above me, legs dangling. Leaned his elbows on his knees, propped his chin on his hands. Looked at me with an expression of… admiration?

"I seriously underestimated you, mortal." He shook his head. "Most fae couldn't cross that clearing without strong protective spells. And you did it with the help of…"

He grimaced, pointing at the smoldering cigarette next to me.

"…that vile stinking crap."

I exhaled—still heavy, with a wheeze.

"Glad… I entertained… you."

He jumped from the branch—landed silently, lightly, like a cat. Came closer, crouched next to me.

Studied me with amber eyes. For a long time.

"You know what?" He tilted his head. "You're the most interesting mortal I've met in the last… hmm…"

He thought, counting on his fingers.

"…hundred years? Maybe two hundred. I'm bad at counting time."

I struggled to sit up, leaning on trembling hands. My head was spinning. Everything swam before my eyes.

"Great. Can I move on or will you keep handing out compliments?"

The Fox laughed—ringing, sincere.

"That's exactly what I'm talking about!" He pointed at me. "This! You don't bow, don't beg for mercy, don't cry. You snap back. Fight. Move forward despite everything."

He stood, walked in a circle, gesturing.

"The White Lady nearly caught you—you throw salt at her. The Sirens try to put you to sleep—you smoke this filth and walk straight through them, as if it's a walk in the park." He spread his arms. "You're either insanely brave or insanely stupid."

"Maybe both," I muttered, struggling to my feet.

My legs barely held. Muscles trembled from exhaustion. But I stood.

Didn't fall. Didn't give up.

Stood.

The Fox watched as I adjusted my backpack, checked the knife. As I wiped dirt from my face with my sleeve.

"Where to now?" he asked.

"East. To the Borderlands." I looked at him. "You know. You're following me."

"Fair enough." He nodded with a smile.

I turned and walked away. Each step came with effort, but I forced my legs to move.

A little more. Just a bit more. Get to evening, find shelter.

After a few steps he called out:

"Hey!"

I stopped without turning.

"What?"

"You know…" Something thoughtful sounded in his voice. "I've been thinking. I'm bored. Very bored. Lived three hundred years, doing the same thing—intrigues, deals, deceptions. Sick of it to death."

I turned around.

He stood with hands in pockets, with an unusually serious expression.

"And you… you're interesting. Unpredictable." The smile returned. "Maybe I'll come with you?"

I blinked.

"What?"

"Come. With. You." He spoke slowly, as if I was slow on the uptake. "To the Borderlands. Maybe further. We'll see how it goes."

I looked at him, trying to understand the catch.

"Why?"

He shrugged.

"I said—interesting. Besides…"

The smirk grew wider.

"…this way I can collect my favor at the most inconvenient moment. Right when you least expect it."

"I don't want company," I said harshly.

"And I'm not asking permission." He stepped closer. "You owe me, remember? A favor. So technically you have no choice where and when I appear."

He circled me, like a predator.

"I can follow you invisibly, in the shadows. Appear suddenly, scare the shit out of you." He stopped in front of me. "Or I can walk beside you, chat, warn about dangers. The second option is more fun. For both of us."

I clenched my fists, thinking.

He's right. The debt hangs. He can appear whenever.

Maybe it's better if he's nearby? At least I'll know where he is and what he's planning.

Although…

A thought flashed in my head. Insane. Risky.

I looked at him. Straight into the amber eyes.

"Fine," I said slowly.

He beamed.

"Excellent! So…"

"But first a question," I interrupted.

He fell silent, raising an eyebrow.

"A question?"

"Yes." I crossed my arms over my chest. "You said you'd come with me. Right?"

"Right."

"And should I allow it?"

He blinked. Frowned slightly, as if not understanding where I was going.

"Not necessary, but it would be more convenient…"

I paused, letting the words hang in the air.

"More convenient for whom? For you?"

His eyebrow crawled higher.

"Well… for both of us?"

"Interesting." I took a step closer. "And what do I get from your presence?"

He blinked again, clearly not expecting such a turn.

"Company? Entertainment?" He spread his arms with a smile. "My sparkling humor, which will brighten the journey?"

"Your chatter will attract the attention of every hunter within a kilometer radius," I said evenly, looking into his eyes. "Your presence creates problems for me."

The smile on his face wavered.

"Wait a minute…"

"You're fae," I continued, taking another step. "You taught me yourself yesterday: nothing is free. Everything has a price."

His eyes narrowed. Warily.

"What are you getting at, girl?"

My heart pounded. My palms sweated. But I forced myself to speak calmly, confidently.

"If your presence creates inconveniences for me, puts me in danger…" I tilted my head, copying his manner. "…then shouldn't you owe me for tolerating it?"

Silence.

Absolute.

The Fox looked at me. His mouth slightly open. Then slowly, very slowly, closed.

I saw thought working in his eyes. How he sorted through my words, looking for a catch, a loophole.

"You…" he began carefully, slowly, "…are trying to outplay me?"

"I'm just using your rules," I shrugged, trying to look innocent. "You said it yourself: nothing is free. Everything has a price. Even company."

The Fox began pacing in circles. Quickly. Nervously. Scratched his head, muttered something under his breath.

"Cunning. Very cunning." He stopped, turned sharply, pointed at me. "But there's a nuance! I'm helping you! Protecting you! Warning about dangers!"

"Did I ask for your help?" I raised an eyebrow.

He opened his mouth. Closed it. Frowned.

"No, but…"

"Did I ask you to come with me?"

"N-no…"

"Then it's your choice." I took a step closer, feeling adrenaline rushing through my veins. "You decided to impose your company on me. Which means you pay for that decision."

The Fox froze.

Looked at me as if seeing me for the first time. As if I'd suddenly transformed into someone else right before his eyes.

"Besides," I added quieter but more clearly, "you're fae. You said yourself you'd come with me. Didn't ask. Didn't request permission. Just declared."

I paused, letting the words sink in.

"Fae words have power, right? You've already bound yourself with that declaration. You will walk with me. Which means creating inconveniences for me. Which means…"

"…I owe you," he finished quietly, almost in a whisper.

Silence crashed down like an avalanche.

He stood without moving. Digesting. I saw thoughts racing through his head at light speed. How he was trying to find an exit, a loophole, a way to wriggle out.

And I stood, trying to breathe evenly, not showing how wildly my heart was pounding.

Did it work? Or am I about to get it for my audacity?