Dead of Winter by Kresley Cole Page A

his dry wit. I missed reading with him and dancing before his rapt gaze.
    Some part of me had been on the verge of loving him. Even the twins had seen that. Yet that time with him had been canceled out by his actions. “Will he come for me?” I gazed at the walls of the fort. Would the minefield be enough to keep him out? I couldn’t hide here forever.
    â€œMeeting!” Matthew took my hand, leading me away from the tent.
    â€œI need to grow some food and then get back to Jack.”
    He pulled with more insistence. He’d gotten even stronger, was almost as broad-shouldered as Jack.
    At the front of the fort, Matthew gave a nod, and soldiers opened the gates. Before Cyclops could follow, they closed behind us.
    â€œI told Jack I wouldn’t leave. Matthew?”
    He didn’t answer, just continued leading me down a rocky trail, lower and lower as the mist thickened.
    â€œUm, we’re getting close to the shore.”
    â€œStill surface.”
    The trail had opened up into a beach area, similar to the one across the river. “Is it safe here?” Wary, I gazed around. I’d bet kids had once come here, drinking beer and swimming on hot, sunny days.
    I missed those days so bitterly I could weep.
    â€”TERROR FROM THE ABYSS!—
    The call boomed in my head. “What is this, Matthew?” I wrested my hand from his.
    At the beach’s edge, a section of water rose.
    â€œI’m introducing you to . . . the High Priestess.”

15
    When the Priestess had said we’d meet again, I thought she’d meant far in the future—some distant clash.
    Not later the same night!
    That rising water morphed, taking on shape. The details grew finer and finer until the outline of a girl emerged.
    â€œFarewell, Fool,” the water girl said.
    I turned to Matthew.
    Gone.
    Damn it! I turned back to the Priestess. Though she wouldn’t remember our skirmish, the feel of her tentacles was fresh in my mind. “Are you going to attack me out of the blue?” Again.
    â€œNot at present. Though every attack of mine must be out of the blue , no?” How could water sound amused? “Have we peace between us for this meeting?”
    I recalled Selena’s guppy comment. The Priestess hadn’t killed me, was instead calling a meeting. Maybe she could become an ally. “We have peace.”
    The water morphed again, taking the shape of an oval, like a mirror. As the ripples stilled, a firelit temple came into view. The oval had become a window for me to see through!
    Sitting upon a coral throne was a girl about my age with luminousfawn-colored eyes, flawless ebony skin, and long black hair braided over her shoulder. She wore frothy white robes (sea-foam?), iridescent blue opera-length gloves, and a glittering crown of water. A golden trident stretched over her lap.
    She was spellbinding.
    â€œHail Tar Ro, Empress.”
    Huh? “Hail Tar Ro to you too?”
    â€œWhat is your given name for this game?” Her words were warmly accented, the rhythms calling to mind balmy breezes and faraway places.
    â€œI’m Evie Greene.”
    Something unseen skittered around her throne. A real tentacle? “I’m Circe Rémire.” Water sluiced down stone walls behind her. Was her temple underwater?
    Until I learned her location, I couldn’t fight her even if I wanted to. “You’re here, but you’re not here.”
    â€œI can inhabit certain bodies of water. For instance, if the Empress followed a stream from Death’s lair, I could follow her.”
    She’d been watching me. “How’s that possible?”
    â€œHow is any of this possible?” She waved a sparkly blue arm at her temple.
    My eyes widened. She wasn’t wearing gloves. Dazzling scales ran up her forearms, ending with a dainty blue fin at each elbow.
    If I’d deemed Lark cool to have a bird of prey with a little leather helmet, Circe’s