Chapter 1

"Hello? Sir? Are you in there?"

William knocked on the heavy wooden door, but no one answered. My father will be so upset. He fumed, knowing that if he didn't return home with his father's package, his immediate future would doubtless be rather unpleasant. William stepped back from the door, pulling his cloak up around his neck and face to protect him from the bitterly cold wind.

After a moment's thought, he decided it was better to return home late than empty handed, and set off for the main avenue of the village. He would simply wait for the apothecary to return.

It's not fair, he thought angrily as he walked through the village bazaar, I hate winter. All around him people walked stooped over, protecting their faces from the wind that nipped at them every step of the way. William remembered when the land was as warm as summer all year round, but that had all changed in an instant.

William had been a child when, nearly a decade ago, Miranda—known to most as the Ice Queen, though it was never said to her face—had whispered lies in the king's ear, forever changing the lives of William and his father.

Before Miranda, William's father—a powerful wizard—had been an advisor to the kingdom's aging leader, but the sorceress's sweet tongue had convinced the king his loyal servant coveted his power. The king—without heirs and ever fearful of an attempt on his rule—had ordered the wizard put to death.

William and his father had fled deep into the forest to a new home. This one was protected from prying eyes by powerful hexes. Miranda had flown into a rage at the wizard's escape, and despite the pleading of the king, had used her magic and spells to throw the nation into eternal winter as punishment. She had promised a return of summer only when the wizard was captured and brought to her. But the weather had hardened the hearts of the people and, although there were a certain few who knew of the wizard's general whereabouts, no one had informed on him to the Ice Queen, which infuriated her further.

Although banished, William's father still felt a responsibility for watching over the kingdom. Certain reagents could only be had in the village, and for a price, so once a month he sent William to see the apothecary. In exchange for a handful of coins, the warty old man handed William a package wrapped in cloth and twine. How the man knew his father's order, William never asked. And his father had ordered him to never look inside the packages.

But today the apothecary was nowhere to be found. It never occurred to William that one of the Queen's spies had seen him going to and fro to the apothecary's door. Word of such a thing immediately found its way to the Queen. All her men were immediately put on alert to watch for the fair-haired boy.

William knew none of this, of course, so he trudged the snowy village streets, blissfully unaware of the danger, waiting for a moment when he might return to retrieve his father's package.

Ahead, William heard the sounds of a crowd and hurried to see what was causing the commotion. To his delight, it was a street fair. He laughed as he saw the expressions on the faces of the children. Their wonder and astonishment was clear to see, even through the bitter chill.

As William admired a contortionist, a vision of beauty passed in front of his eyes, and his breath was taken away, as it always was. She was beautiful, with long blonde hair that fell to her waist. Her skin was pale and flawless, her cheeks rosy from the cold. She appeared almost dainty. Fragile. William couldn't tear his eyes away.

He never could. For as long as William had been coming to the village he had seen her, and each time he saw the fair-haired maiden, his mouth dried up and a lump formed in his throat. Someday I'll speak with her, William promised himself. Someday I'll learn her name.

As he watched, the girl took the arm of an elderly lady and began steering the old woman through the crowd. William moved closer, wanting to get a better glimpse of this beauty, but found himself cut off as a crowd of people surged past.

Finally, he managed to break through the crowd, but the girl was nowhere to be seen. Saddened, William kept moving along the street until he came upon a street magician.

William scoffed. This was no wizard—the man had no real power—but he was good at his craft, and the crowd was entertained. Trying to decide where to go next, William looked over the crowd. There was the girl, standing close by, also watching the magician. William's heart skipped a beat

William edged slowly toward the girl, unsure if he would speak to her or just bask in her presence. As he neared, the crowd hushed.

No doubt the magician is preparing his final trick, William thought.

Suddenly a child screamed, then a second and a third. William jerked his head around, and was terrified to see a dragon flying above the village square. It was blood red, and steam billowed from its nostrils as it soared through the gray skies.

"Run!" William screamed, but the crowd seemed transfixed by the beast. It circled overhead, gradually sinking lower and lower until it seemed to William that he could reach out and touch it. Then he realized it was heading straight for the girl, who seemed frozen in place.

Without a thought, William threw himself in front of the girl, even though he knew his skinny frame could never protect her from a dragon attack. He looked for some sort of weapon, but saw only a muddy garden hoe. It would have to do. Brandishing the tool by the handle he waved it in front of the dragon, but still the beast grew closer.

As it hovered directly overhead, William gave a strangled yell and thrust the sharp end of the hoe up into the soft underbelly of the beast with all his might. The crowd grew silent. William was scarcely able to breath, thrusting again and again until the dragon seemed to deflate and promptly fell to the ground. William exhaled heavily, nervous sweat pouring out over his forehead.

He looked down, noticing for the first time the dragon looked... flat. Confused, William poked at the dead animal with the hoe.

It was paper!

All around him, people whispered and pointed and laughed at the red-faced William, who was still holding the garden hoe protectively at arm's length. He looked at the girl, standing beside him. A small smile playing over her face.

"The magician," she said softly. "It was his trick."

Her voice! William was in love with the sound of her voice. So enamored was William that it took a moment for her words to register, but their meaning was quickly clear as the crowd parted, letting through an angry little man. His face was as red as the dragon.

"What have you done?" the magician yelled at William, pointing to the ground. "You've ruined it! You fool!"

William shrugged helplessly.

"I didn't know," he said. The magician glared in disbelief before turning and stalking away.

"Don't move," he threatened over his shoulder. "I'm going to get one of the king's guards."

William prepared to bolt, but a tiny hand caught the sleeve of his tunic.

"Thank you," the girl said quietly. "That was brave."

"But it was paper," William said. He had never felt so foolish.

"You didn't know, and you fought to protect me. A lady is forever grateful to her brave knight," she said, blushing slightly, and stood on tiptoes to plant a soft kiss on William's cheek. "Thank you."

William stood, nearly speechless, embarrassed at the sudden attention.

"I... I'm William," he finally blurted.

"I am Celeste," the girl answered. The two stood there, staring into each other's eyes, unaware of anything around them.

William found himself, almost without thought, leaning toward the girl. Her eyes widened a bit as she realized his intent before she too moved to meet William. Their lips met in a kiss, sending little tremors of pleasure up and down William's spine. Her lips were so soft as they moved against his. He reached out, pulling the girl against him. Her softness pressed delightfully against him. She moaned into his mouth as he ran his fingers over the back of her neck.

Suddenly, they were interrupted.

"There he is! That's the man!" the magician yelled, pulling a guard behind him. "Arrest him!"

William pulled away, feeling dazed and a bit unsteady. The kiss had been... powerful. The girl looked as if she felt the same. Celeste gave William one more quick kiss before putting her hands in the middle of his chest and pushing him away.

"You'd better go," she offered with a giggle, before stepping in front of the guards' path to block their progress. She looked back at him, urging him on with her eyes. "Run!" she said.

William ran.

"Get out! All of you! Out!" the Ice Queen screamed at her servants, who went scurrying from her private chambers. Miranda was beyond outrage. Ten years it had been, and all her efforts to get rid of the weakling king had so far failed. Her desire for power was becoming all-consuming.

When the noise and activity from her servants finally ceased, Miranda walked to a cabinet, temporarily unbinding her spell with a wave of her hand. The cabinet was empty, but for a single, shallow bowl. Reaching in, Miranda gently cradled the dish in her arms and carried it to a low, wooden table.

After wiping the bowl clean of any dirt or dust so that it shone in the dim candlelight, Miranda reached for a pitcher filled to the brim with pure spring water. Careful not to spill a single drop—for the power of the spell demanded an exact amount be used—Miranda filled the bowl.

As always when she performed a seeing, the pitcher appeared too full, the bowl not large enough. Miranda poured until the pitcher was empty and the bowl nearly overflowed. Now began the waiting, for the spell demanded complete stillness. Miranda stood, scarcely daring to breathe, while the water settled. The room, Miranda, the bowl, and the water itself must all be perfectly still.

After many minutes, Miranda approached the bowl, gathering her robes tightly to avoid any accidental touches with the water. Any disturbance now and the spell would be broken. Leaning down so that her face was but a hairs' breadth away from the surface of the water, Miranda began chanting.

She watched, entranced as always at the way the water ebbed and flowed from just a gentle breath, but knew the bowl was acting on its own, now. A faint glow seemed to come from just under the surface of the water. It was ready.

"The king," she hissed. "Show me the king." The water seemed to quiver for a moment before suddenly freezing in place. Just below the surface of the water, an image seemed to flow in, becoming more and more clear until the bowl became a window into the king's chamber.

Miranda watched as the king—sickly and feeble—lay in his bed, surrounded by his advisors and guards. As always, she looked for signs of weakness around the king but there were none. He had an army ready to defend him, and Miranda knew her own magic would be useless against so much steel and brawn. No—she would have to wait for him to die on his own, and make her play for power then.

With a wave of her hand, the view of the king flowed away. After a moment, the water snapped back into place, ready for Miranda's next request.

"The wizard," Miranda intoned. The wizard had no name, or at least none she'd ever heard. He was always just "The Wizard." Rumor had that he had come to the kingdom from across the sea. Some said he had arrived one hundred years ago, some said a thousand. Nevertheless, Miranda knew the wizard was her only hope to overthrow the king before his death. If he would not aid her in her quest for power, he would die. If she could find him.

Miranda knew the wizard had not vanished, although that clearly was his wish. No, the wizard was out there—somewhere—still protecting the king. His spells were everywhere, annoying and effective, making Miranda's attempts to seize power more and more difficult every day.

"The wizard," Miranda said again. She sighed in frustration. The bowl—as with every attempt to locate the wizard—revealed nothing of the wizard's whereabouts.

"Show me his son," Miranda requested. "The wizard's son." She expected to see nothing, and was surprised, then outraged, to find the boy, much older than she remembered, in the village! Miranda even knew the place. He was standing there talking to a girl. Suddenly the boy turned and began to run—someone was chasing after him.

Miranda was incensed. The boy was there for the taking but, as she watched, the skinny youth vaulted over a horse cart and into an alley, eluding the king's oafish guard who slipped on a patch of ice and fell flat on his face.

It wasn't until William turned to run, however, that Miranda saw the face of the girl he'd been talking to. It was Celeste, the Ice Queen's own daughter!

Her anger boiled over and she splashed her hand down into the water. A few drops spilled over the edge. The glow from inside the bowl immediately winked out, and Miranda was once again alone.

Why did I have to make such a fool of myself? William wondered as he trudged through the forest, leaving only momentary footprints in the snow. Thanks to one of his father's spells, any tracks he made were almost instantly gone.

Celeste. Celeste was her name, and she was beautiful. But she must think I'm a fool!

After escaping from the king's guard, William had taken a long path home, not wanting to risk being followed. Suddenly he heard the distant sound of barking, and a chill went through his body. The dogs were loose again. William heard them through the forest. At the sound of their frantic barking and growling—closer than he'd thought at first—his heart started beating faster, and he quickened his pace.

As the dogs neared, William's long strides turned to a jog and finally into a full run. He scaled a small hill, slipping in the snow, and almost tumbled to the ground. William grabbed hold of a small sapling for support and prepared to run again. The cottage was close. Suddenly the dogs were on him.

"You, boy! Stop your running!"

William looked over his shoulder, and saw one of the king's guards pointing his direction.

"Me?" The man nodded and moved closer. William forced himself to stand still, shaking a bit under the watchful eyes and frothing mouths of the guard dogs that now circled him. William stood—frozen in place—until the guard was standing directly in front of him. The man—out of shape and out of breath—leaned down, staring William in the eye.

"Where were you going, boy?" he wheezed, pushing a meaty finger into William's chest. This was a different guard from the one chasing him in the village, and William felt a chill pass through him. Had they followed him? Had they found his father? Was he to be put to death?

"I'm not a boy." His voice quivered, much shakier than he would have liked.

"What are you, then?" the guard asked.

"I'm a man." William had recently come of age but was slight of build, much to his disappointment. He was forever being dismissed as younger than he truly was.

"Impossible," the guard laughed. "I see no man's growth on your chin. You must be a woman."

William bit his tongue, angry as always at his father's refusal to teach him any spells. If only he could learn just one, William though. If any man deserved to choke to death on his own black tongue, it was this guard.

But William's father didn't feel it appropriate for his son to learn spells or potions.

"They're not for you to learn," he said when asked. "Wizarding is my job. Yours is to grow older and wiser."

But that didn't stop him from wishing some sort of ill to befall upon the guard. Perhaps a dragon—a real one this time—would swoop down from the sky and haul the man's fat carcass away. William glared, but said nothing. The guard sensed the boy's anger, and his hand moved to the hilt of his sword as he backed up a step. His eyes were wary and suspicious.

"Where were you going?" he repeated. "This is the king's land. You're trespassing."

"I was going home to my father," William answered carefully. He glanced behind him. He had made it to within ten paces of home. Ten paces to freedom from the prying, bloodshot eyes of the fat guard.

"Home? What home?" the guard asked, peering behind William into the darkness. The guard could see nothing, William knew. The wizard's spells guaranteed that only William and the wizard could see the cottage.

The only reason the guard had made it this close, William knew, was because William himself had led him here. People traveling unescorted through the forest found themselves unknowingly taking a wide arc around the cottage, forever walking in circles around it.

William blanched at his foolish error. He had almost given away their secret location! Wanting to distract the guard, and hopeful his father would sense the disturbance outside in the clearing, William reached down—slowly and deliberately—and picked up his leather satchel. With the guard's watchful eye on him, William stood and held it out to the guard.

"Speak, boy. What were you doing?"

"I was... I was running an errand for my father. I was to pick something up for him in the village."

"What?"

"I don't know." William shrugged his shoulders helplessly. He'd been too rushed to try the apothecary once more, and William wouldn't have known the contents of the package even if he had. His father often sent William on errands, but had threatened his son with painful boils that oozed pus and blood should he ever look inside.

"Fetching packages for daddy, are you?" the guard laughed. "Hand it over, boy, before you lose a finger. Or worse." The guard brandished his sword in front of him, grinning a gap-toothed smile as he advanced on the trembling boy.

"But I don't have any package," William stammered. Suddenly a flash of light burst out from behind William. At once, the guard fell to the ground, his sword ripped from his grip. He writhed in agony, releasing a high-pitched scream as he clutched at his sword hand. Or rather, where the hand would have been, had it still been attached to his wrist. William looked around, but saw only the shattered remains of the broken sword. The hand was nowhere—it had simply ceased to exist, leaving behind nothing but a bloody stump.

"Leave us," came a low voice. William turned at the voice of his father and almost burst into laughter. The mighty wizard, shrouded by the power of the spell, stood in the doorway, wearing nothing but a nightshirt and slippers. He was holding a mug of steaming brew in his hand, all the while shaking his head in disappointment at his son.

But the guard saw something entirely different. To him, the wizard appeared monstrous—ten feet tall and with eyes as red as blood and teeth as sharp as knives. The guard, still holding his injured arm to his side, took one last glance at the apparition and took flight. William knew the man—once he had been attended to—would tell the queen, who would demand a search be made of the forest, but he also knew there once the guard was gone there was no chance of being found. He would never be able to find this part of the forest again.

When the guard had fled down the hill and out of sight, William turned to the house, knowing he was due a tongue-lashing.

"You let him get away?" Miranda screamed, her face inches from the guard's trembling face.

"I'm sorry, milady," the guard stammered, cowering before the Ice Queen. He shook uncontrollably. The Queen looked at the guard, who shrank back as much as he was able from her furious gaze.

"What happened?" she hissed, leaning forward once more.

"I... I don't know. One moment the boy was walking through the forest and the next... the next minute he's gone and I'm left with this." The guard didn't feel the need to mention the demon he had seen appear out of nowhere—the demon responsible for his missing hand. He knew he wouldn't be believed. The guard held up his bloody arm. The stump had been hastily wrapped, but the injury still throbbed with pain and the bandage was soaked through with his blood.

"You fool!" the Queen screamed. "I need that boy to lead me to his father!"

The guard trembled, wondering exactly who the son and father were.

"We have nothing!" Miranda continued, ignoring the guard, who was now down on his knees, begging for his life. "Nothing!" She motioned to one of her private guards, who snapped to attention at her signal. "Take him away."

Her guard roughly grabbed the injured man—still blubbering incoherently— and dragged him away while Miranda fought the urge to scream out her frustrations once again. How could she ever ascend to her throne, when these... these imbeciles around her were unable to perform a simple task?