Reclaiming the Frost, page 1
Copyright © 2024 by Mallory Wanless
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters, and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
Mallory Wanless asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
Cover design by GetCovers
First edition
ISBN:
Paperback: 979-8-9888284-0-2
Ebook: 979-8-9855733-9-8
To those who love with their whole heart and refuse to give up.
Content Warning
This book contains mild descriptions of child abuse, torture, rape (not seen on-page), moderately gruesome murder, and has an element of "why choose?"
If any of this makes you uncomfortable, please put this down and walk away. Not every book is for every reader and that is ok.
Contents
1. Chapter 1
2. Chapter 2
3. Chapter 3
4. Chapter 4
5. Chapter 5
6. Chapter 6
7. Chapter 7
8. Chapter 8
9. Chapter 9
10. Chapter 10
11. Chapter 11
12. Chapter 12
13. Chapter 13
14. Chapter 14
15. Chapter 15
16. Chapter 16
17. Chapter 17
18. Chapter 18
19. Chapter 19
20. Chapter 20
21. Chapter 21
22. Chapter 22
23. Chapter 23
24. Chapter 24
25. Chapter 25
26. Chapter 26
27. Chapter 27
28. Chapter 28
29. Chapter 29
30. Chapter 30
31. Chapter 31
32. Chapter 32
33. Chapter 33
34. Chapter 34
35. Chapter 35
36. Chapter 36
37. Chapter 37
38. Chapter 38
39. Chapter 39
40. Chapter 40
41. Chapter 41
42. Chapter 42
Support the author
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Chapter 1
When Roska walked into the Great Hall on the eve of his eighteenth birthday, he found his brother and sister waiting for him. They might have been triplets, but their personalities couldn’t have been any more different. Elena was clearly anxious, wringing her hands as she paced back and forth in front of her future throne—assuming King Niko ever got off his ass and proposed. Her brilliant blue lightning practically danced underneath her skin in her stressed state. Quinn, on the other hand, was considerably more laid back. Lounging on the King’s throne, flames dancing in his hands, weaving in between his long fingers and casting strange shadows on the walls.
One solar cycle ago, Roska had been sitting around the table in the Great Hall with his brother, sister, mothers, father, three orphan sisters, and the new King of Waverly. They had been eating dozens of cakes to celebrate the birthdays Quinn and Roska hadn’t acknowledged. Elena, being the kind-hearted woman that she was, had surprised them with a party to make up for all the birthdays they’d missed. It had been wonderful and magical and brought tears to Roska’s eyes.
Roska shrugged out of his travel cloak and dropped his pack into an empty chair. Demoni, his clever little frost dragon familiar, slithered down his back and jumped off to join his siblings’ familiars. Agon—Elena’s electric weasel—and Lyra—Quinn’s sarcastic firefox—where they were curled up on several large pillows before the low fire smoldering in the Great Hall’s large stone hearth.
“Oh, thank the gods! You’re back!!” Elena rushed across the room and threw her arms around Roska’s neck. He stumbled back, surprised by her outpouring of affection, instinctively wrapping his arms around her.
“Of course I’m back. Why wouldn’t I be?” Roska leaned back, trying to get a better look at his sister. Despite having been born only minutes apart, Elena fretted over both him and Q as though she were their mother, or at least their much older sister. In fact, according to Beatrice—their actual mother—Elena was only three minutes older than Roska and a full two minutes younger than Q. A point Quinn often liked to bring up when she was fussing over him.
“I was so worried.” Elena released her hold on him, slightly, moving her hands to his shoulders as she tried to turn him this way and that to examine him for obvious signs of injury. “We hadn’t gotten word from you in a while. I feared the worst.”
“She always fears the worst,” Quinn said, his eye-roll practically audible.
Roska placed his hands over Elena’s, squeezing gently. “I’m sorry, El. I didn’t send word because there was nothing to say. I should have sent a missive to inform you that I was coming home.” Home. It was such a foreign concept, but that truly was what the castle had become. Roska hadn’t spent as much time in Riverayn as Elena, but the rooms he shared with Quinn in their suite at the capital had quickly become his safe space.
“No news then?” Q asked. He extinguished his fire and stood from Niko’s throne, crossing the room to join them. “I’m sorry, Ros. No one in Nexton knows where she’s gone?”
Roska shook his head, trying to hide his heartbreak. “No. It seems like Brigit just disappeared. I spoke with the tavern owner where she was working when we met, but he didn’t know anything. Couldn’t even tell me about her family or where she was from. I thought maybe she’d gone back home, but no one seems to know that might be.”
Elena’s eyes glittered with unshed tears. “I’m so sorry, Roska. I can talk to Niko, if you’d like? See if he can send some inquirers out to search for her?”
Roska shook his head. “Thanks, El, but no. If she wanted to be found, she wouldn’t make it this hard. She’s moved on, and so should I.”
Roska didn’t miss the sad look his siblings exchanged, but he didn’t want to discuss Brigit anymore. He’d been looking for her for a full solar cycle now. She clearly didn’t miss him. He needed to let her go.
“Besides,” he continued, “I’ve got work to do. The Brotherhood has its minions everywhere. I should be focusing on tearing them down, not searching for a girl I haven’t spoken to in moons and likely doesn’t even remember me.”
“Ros, I don’t think—” Elena began, but Roska cut her off with a firm, but not unkind, smile.
“It’s ok, El. Really. It just wasn’t meant to be.”
Roska spent every waking moment of that planting season interviewing every single employee at the castle. He’d driven himself to the point of exhaustion when Elena and Quinn cornered him in an empty hallway on the way back to his room. Roska planned on taking a quick nap—no more than an hour—before meeting up with Commander Jamieson to discuss their next steps.
“Roska, can we talk to you for a moment?” The hesitation in Elena’s voice caught Roska’s attention more than her actual words. Something was wrong.
“What happened? Who’s hurt? Mother? Belladonna? Gods, did Father finally test his ‘unkillable theory’ too well and actually kill himself?” Their demi-god father, Aiden, had been pushing his supposed immortality more and more these days. Roska was starting to worry the man had a death wish.
“Nah, Ros. It’s nothing like that. We just need to talk.” Quinn threw an arm around Roska’s neck and half guided, half dragged him into an empty library. Unceremoniously dumping Roska in an empty chair, Quinn flopped back into the chair to his right while Elena perched on the very edge of the chair across from him.
Roska looked at them both, eyebrows raised in confusion and mild annoyance. He had things he needed to do. The Brotherhood’s influence still filtered through the castle, and he had to stop them. It was his only purpose in this godsdamned world anymore.
Bit dramatic, don’t you think? That can’t be all we’re good for anymore.
Roska ignored Demoni’s chilled words, focusing on his sister instead. Demoni huffed an annoyed, icy breath, then climbed down from his shoulder, jumping off the chair and joining Agon on the windowsill looking out over the crystal blue lake in the courtyard below.
Frustration radiated off of him as Roska tried to keep his emotions—and powers—in check. “If no one is hurt or dying, then what’s going on? I’ve got things I need to be doing.”
“That’s actually what we wanted to talk about,” Elena began, her nervous gaze flitting from Roska’s to Quinn’s and back again. “It’s just that… well, I don’t really know how to say this without sounding harsh…”
“You’re obsessed, Ros. And you’re going to push yourself into an early grave if you keep going on like this.” Quinn’s blunt words were like ice in Roska’s veins.
No. Ice would have been familiar, comforting even. This was more like his siblings were calling his efforts a waste of time. Belittling his work and making him question everything.
Demoni hissed at him from across the room. “Stop that shyt. You know that’s not what they meant.”
“What? What does he think we’re sayin
“He thinks you think he’s wasting his time hunting down the Brotherhood,” Demoni answered before Roska could even voice his protestations.
Traitor, he thought bitterly.
You’re being a fool. I’m not going to ignore that. You’re dictating my life too, you know. She flicked her tongue out at him. From the outside, it might have just looked like a dragon merely tasting the air, but Roska knew what that tongue flick meant. It meant if she had fingers, she’d be giving him one finger in particular.
“You’re hyper-fixated on this, Ros.” Elena leaned forward, breaking Roska’s staring contest with his dragon. “I agree with you; we need to root out all of the Brotherhood’s dark influence, but you can’t keep going nonstop like this. You need a break.”
“A break?” Roska let loose a derisive laugh. “Do you think the Brotherhood is taking a break? I can’t rest until they’re done. Don’t you get that?”
Gods, Roska was so muxing tired of trying to explain this to everyone. The Brotherhood was the root of all evil in their world. He had to stop them.
Elena raised her hands defensively. “Roska, please listen.”
“No. I can’t stop until they’re destroyed. They’ve caused so much pain and suffering. More than you could possibly know.” Roska shoved up from his chair, roughly brushing his white-blond hair from his brow. “They’re insidious. They’ve snuck into every level of this muxing government and are trying to puppet the entire thing!”
“With all due respect,” came a strong, confident voice from behind him. “No one is puppet-mastering my kingdom and you really shouldn’t talk to your sister like that.”
King Niko strode into the room like he owned the place. Which Roska supposed he did, but at that particular moment, Roska couldn’t have given two shyts if the man was the god of all creation.
“With all due respect, Your Majesty.” Pure, unadulterated sarcasm dripped from Roska’s tone. “You wouldn’t know if you were being manipulated. That’s how the Brothers operate.” Roska wiped a hand over his tired face. “But you’re right, I shouldn’t have snapped like that. I’m sorry, Elena.” Gods, he just wanted to go to bed.
“You can root out evil and take care of yourself, Roska.” Elena’s voice was gentle and full of concern.
“Keeping that in mind, I’m going to say something you aren’t going to like.” Niko sat on the arm of Elena’s chair, facing Roska as he absentmindedly toyed with a lock of her hair. A strong wave of jealousy washed over Roska as he watched the unconscious act of affection. Moons ago, he’d thought he would have Brigit by his side, helping him create a balance between fighting the vile nature of the Brotherhood and finding joy in everyday life. Instead, he was alone and drowning.
“Ros, did you hear that?” Quinn nudged Roska gently with his shoulder.
When had Quinn gotten up? Roska hadn’t even noticed him cross the room. He was so lost in his thoughts.
Roska blinked, trying to wipe thoughts of Brigit from his mind. “Sorry, what?”
“You’re banished,” Niko said with all the grace and authority provided to him by his position as King of Waverly.
Roska’s jaw nearly fell to the floor. What the mux? Banished?
Disbelief and impotent rage flooded his system, icy mist pouring unbidden from his palms and rapidly dropping the temperature of the room.
“Whoa, hang on there, Frosty.” Quinn stepped forward, positioning himself between Roska and Niko, breaking Roska’s fixed glare. “Bro, you’re gonna freeze us all if you don’t reel that shyt in a bit.” Tossing a quick glance over his shoulder, Quinn spoke on a rushed breath. “Niko, you better elaborate quickly. I’m not sure I can counter the shyt that’s flooding out of him.”
Niko rose, hands lifted in surrender. “Roska, I know you’ve got important work to do here. You and Jamieson have already taken down so many sects of traitors just in the last three moons, but you need a break. Banishment seemed like the only way to make you stop and take care of yourself for a change.”
Rage still flowed freely through Roska’s veins, but the truth of Niko’s words slowly began to melt the ice wall around his mind.
Banished.
Where the hells would he even go? He didn’t have any other home. He supposed he could go back to Harbor Ridge and stay with Mother for a while. Or maybe Belladonna would let him stay in her cottage in the Dark Woods for a time?
“I’ve already planned it all out with Amelia.” Quinn interrupted Roska’s thoughts. “She’s really excited to finally meet you.”
At the mention of this magical woman, both Q and Elena’s faces spread into warm smiles. Amelia was a very special woman to them both, but Roska had never had the nerve to actually travel to Andover and meet her. Even during his cycle of searching fruitlessly for Brigit, he hadn’t wanted to risk meeting her. What if she didn’t like him? What if she saw how damaged and utterly broken he was and decided he wasn’t worth her time? She’d been so kind to Q and Elena. If Amelia didn’t accept him, Roska worried that would mean he was truly a wreck of a person. Undeserving of love, just like the Brothers had always told him.
Quinn clasped Roska’s shoulder triumphantly. “It’s gonna be great, Ros. You’re gonna love her.”
Elena stepped up and gingerly took hold of Roska’s frosted left hand. “She’s going to love you too, don’t worry. Amelia is the best person I’ve ever met.”
Mother Goddess, please don’t let me disappoint this woman.
Quinn accompanied Roska, insisting on doing a “proper introduction” and visiting with his surrogate mother, as he hadn’t seen her in moons.
The woman was a saint. Or a goddess. Or both, Roska couldn’t be sure. The second they’d walked into her inn, Amelia had dropped everything—literally, it was a bit of a mess—and rushed over to embrace Quinn.
“Praise the Mother!” the plump woman cried out with a huge smile that caused her eyes to practically disappear. “I haven’t seen you in ages, boy. Where the hells have you been?” She swatted Quinn good-naturedly on his arm as he blushed from her attention.
“Sorry, Mom, I’ve been a bit busy. You know, helping save the world and all that.” Quinn’s words were sarcastic, but his tone was filled with a love that Roska had rarely seen his brother express. Roska was a little surprised that Q had referred to Amelia as “mom” since he only ever referred to their biological mom as “Mother.” Quinn, seeming to notice Roska’s reaction, draped an arm around Amelia’s shoulders and turned to face Roska. “Mom, I’d like you to officially meet my brother, Roska, and his frosty little dragon, Demoni. Ros, this is Amelia. The only mom I ever needed.”
“I’m honored to meet you, darlin’.” Amelia held out her hand, offering a formal shake rather than the warm embrace she’d given Q. Roska appreciated the space she was giving him, allowing him to make the first physical contact. While he was jealous of the hug she’d given his brother, Roska wasn’t sure he would have been comfortable hugging this woman just yet. He knew she was a kind, thoughtful person, based on the stories his siblings told, but Roska always preferred to reserve final judgment for himself.
Roska clasped her warm, rough hand firmly in his slightly chilled one. “The pleasure is all mine. I’ve heard so many good things about you, I thought it was finally time to meet you for myself.”
“And Niko kicked him out,” Lyra added with a foxy smirk.
Before Quinn could respond, Amelia tutted Lyra’s remark, giving her a chastising look. No words, and yet Lyra seemed to feel guilt at her nonverbal admonishment. It was very impressive. Roska had never seen anyone correct Lyra’s behavior so effectively.
“Well, then let’s get you settled, darlin’. You’re welcome to stay here as long as you like.” Amelia slipped her hand through the crook of Roska’s arm and led him through the inn’s dining hall, into the kitchens, and up a winding staircase to the second floor of the cozy building.
She set them up in Quinn’s old room and told them to come down for some lunch whenever they were ready. Lyra followed Amelia out the door, obviously intent on stealing scraps of food from the kitchen.
Roska looked around the room. It was bigger than he’d expected, although not as big as the bedroom he had in the capital. A single bed sat against the wall under the only window in the room. A desk with a single wooden chair sat in the far corner. A wardrobe took up a decent amount of wall space, leaving just enough room for a fireplace directly across from the bed. Based on its placement, Roska suspected its chimney met up with the massive stone hearth in the kitchen, driving all the smoke from the cooking fires up and out of the inn.
