Ice Queen (Fiction)

“Sera, what a nice surprise,” Gertrude greets me warmly as I take a seat at the bar. I unwrap the scarf from around my neck and remove my gloves while she mixes up my usual.

“Always nice to see you, Trudy.” I take a long swig of the drink she sets down in front of me and slip her a few bills for the trouble.

“Catch anything good today?” she asks, eyeing the bow and arrow on my back. I smirk.

“A lady never tells.” That gets me a frown and a cluck under the tongue, though her eyes remain soft.

Trudy likes me well enough, but she doesn’t trust me; hell, I don’t blame her. Dark-haired, green-eyed girl shows up one night out of nowhere, dressed all in black and toting weapons to boot – I can’t imagine what she really thinks of me.

For her sake, I let her think whatever she’d like. What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her, and the truth, at least for now, must remain secret – for her own safety, and mine.

You see, not far from here, in a place I once called home, a porcelain girl sits on a stolen throne. Ice blue eyes, hair light silver, alabaster skin. Beauty that steals breath, as if Winter somehow manifested a living, breathing version of herself.

The fools in her kingdom love her; they swoon over her beauty and her grace, adorn her with their finest wares and sing her praises at every turn. But I know better. A queen of little compassion and too much spite, she hides sharp edges and thorns beneath a pale, perfect face.

I see the blood on her hands, the price she paid to rise. I know what they don’t.

She killed my brother.

My brother, the king.

She swore to love him, rule alongside him, and bring him an heir when the time came. Instead, she bled him dry, and found a scapegoat to execute for her crime.

And now she sits on a throne that belongs to me.

Her sins will not go unpunished. I will see to that.

I will kill the ice queen.