North Queen （Crowns, #1）
Nicola Tyche
For Shaun. Without you, this story
would have never been told.
Chapter one
Consciousness came like a dream, bending the mind as dreams often do. Her eyelids fluttered under an icy weight, and she struggled to focus her vision against the blur that fell across her face.
Where was she?
She blinked back the cold of snow and drew a sharp breath as she made out the shapes of needled treetops against the sky. How did she get here?
Her pulse quickened as she sat up with a start to find herself in the middle of a winter forest. Trees rocked softly in slips of wind, and dry snowflakes danced through the air.
What was this place? Where was she?
The hair rose along the back of her neck as an icy trickle ran up her spine.
Who was she?
A rush of panic coursed through her veins. She tried to stand but stumbled as a throbbing pain inside her head caught her on the rise, threatening her fragile balance. She pressed her fingers against her temples. What had happened? As she breathed, the ache subsided. Her eyes cleared, but her mind didn’t. Why couldn’t she remember?
She glanced around. The eyes of the aspens stared back at her, watching; the wind swept whispers around her. Fear pushed back the cold. The rush of blood pulsed in her ears. Her body told her to run. But from what? And to where?
No. She couldn’t let panic take over. Her mind would come back—she only needed to give it a moment.
She drew in a deep breath to calm herself as she surveyed the forest around her. Several inches of snow sat on the ground, but only a light dusting covered her. She hadn’t been here long. Frozen tears stippled the corners of her eyes, but she was lost for their cause. She struggled for reason against her clouded mind.
“Calm down,” she told herself. “You’re a grown woman. Pull yourself together.” But telling herself to calm and actually calming were two different things. Still, she managed to keep the second wave of panic at bay.
She brushed her long icy-blonde tresses back from her face and combed the trees as she turned her attention back to her surroundings. The snow held only her own footprints, and they ended abruptly a few steps away. How had she even gotten here? It was as if she’d been dropped from the sky. And she was alone. A pang of fear twisted in her stomach again, but she pushed it down. That wouldn’t help.
Movement startled her, and she jumped to find a winter fox peering out from deeper within the trees.
“Hammel’s hell,” she said breathlessly. “You scared me.”
His white coat blended with the snow, and his black-tipped ears flicked back and forth. A fascinating beauty with an unnatural pull hung about him, and his bright, golden eyes looked back at her with a deep curiosity. For a moment, she forgot about being lost—but only for a moment.
He gave a chitter and trotted off between the trees. How peculiar.
But her mind didn’t stay with the fox for long; she had more pressing matters. She skimmed the trees as her pulse picked back up, and again, she resisted the urge to run. There was nothing to run from, and nowhere to run to, but that settled her only slightly.
She shifted her attention to herself. The cool blue of her dress, layered under a smoky-white cloak, matched the winter world around her. Her sleeves ran long over the backs of her hands. A delicate chain hung from her neck, and she reached up to feel a round pendant at her chest. She ran her fingertips over its braided edge as she looked closely at the raised image at its center: a winterhawk. Surely it meant something, but what?
Turning back to her surroundings, she spotted a break in the woods and headed toward it. When she reached it, she found herself looking out over the rolling hills of an open meadow, where clusters of trees sporadically broke the sea of white. The brightness of winter flashed harsh against her eyes, and she squinted.
She searched for signs of a village or town: a road, tracks in the snow, smoke against the sky—anything. But only winter lay as far as the eye could see.
A chitter sounded behind her, and she turned to see the fox again. He gave a small snort.
“You’re back, are you?”
What did he want? He trotted off into the forest, as if beckoning her deeper into the trees, but then stopped to look back over his shoulder. He twitched his tail, seemingly in agitation.
“What are you doing?” she called. His presence gave a welcome distraction from the threatening panic over her situation. “Can’t you see I have problems of my own?” She sighed, but as she eyed the animal, a small smile came to her lips. “Are you here to help me, little fox?”
He cocked his head at the sound of her voice and then flitted off again, light as the snowflakes around him.
Funny little thing. Did he want her to follow him? She shook her head. That was silly. She ran her eyes along the edge of the forest and then back to the meadow. The meadow seemed her best option; she’d have better visibility and possibly a better sense of direction.
She glanced back to see the fox again. He cocked his head to the side once more and flicked his ears.
“Do you want to come along?” she asked, nodding toward the meadow. “I’d appreciate the company.” Gods knew this furry distraction was the only thing keeping her from losing her last sliver of calm.
He skirted back into an icy thicket at the base of a large tree, peering at her from within.
Talking to a fox was silly. Pretending the fox had a rational mind and understood her was silly. But he was cute, and she supposed she could allow herself a little silliness to help lighten her circumstance.
“Are you sure you don’t want to come?”
He didn’t move from the thicket.
She shrugged. “All right. Well, goodbye, little fox.” She gave him one last smile and then stepped into the open winter.
Now, away from the forest and the shield of the trees, she shivered as the wind bit at her skin. She pulled up the thick hood of her cloak, but it did little to warm her. Her eyes stung, and her fingers ached from the cold.
Her pace slowed in the deeper snow of the open meadow. Twice she stumbled on hidden rocks. Perhaps following the tree line along the forest might have been better.
She couldn’t control her shivering now, and she forced her eyes and mind on only her path ahead. The first cluster of trees wasn’t much farther, and it would be a small reprieve from the gusts of icy air. Her legs burned as she pressed on. She reached the small grouping of trees and huddled against the rough bark, rubbing her arms underneath her cloak to spur some warmth. How had she managed to get herself in the middle of a frozen forest? Where had she come from? Her dress was well made; she seemed properly put together. Surely she hadn’t been out long, which, she hoped, would mean someone would be looking for her and might soon find her.
“You look lost,” a gravelly voice called.
She jumped and turned to see a burly man leaning against a knotted pine. He wore a frayed winter jacket lined in matted fur and a dagger belted around his waist. His unkempt hair fell unevenly over his grimy brow, and he gave a grin of rotting teeth. He rocked his weight off the tree and lumbered toward her.
A shiver ran down her spine. “Oh, I’m fine,” she said, trying to hide her unease with a polite smile. Her mind raced for defenses. “I lost my horse on my morning ride, but I know my brothers are looking for me and will be along soon.”