An Heir: to be, or not to be

Stranger

          I wake with a groan. My limbs are cold and sore from a night spent on the ground. Even stretching is painful. For a second, I wish I were in bed with Rhys, but then his face, full of disappointment, looms in front of me, and I squash the ridiculous fantasy. After four failed pregnancies, I can't face him until I have answers.

          Getting on my feet is a struggle. Once there, I take one look at the lake and almost fall back over. The lake was frozen last night, but my tired eyes didn't see just how frozen. In the daylight, I can see that the lake is entirely frozen. It's just a huge chunk of unbreakable, unsearchable, impossible ice. I groan. How am I supposed to free Koschei?

          My eyes and shoulders droop in defeat, but ... but there are the ashes from my fire last night. The fire I made. What if I could melt the lake? I know my fire powers aren't nearly up to speed, but Rhys won't find me for a long time. I can practice. Raising my hands, I begin.

          "Godammit!" Sore muscles and countless hours later, I slump to the grass. The blades are burnt and smoldering from my failed attempts to melt the lake. My hands ache from trying to wield so much power, but that doesn't keep me from shoving them into the grass in frustration. "Agh!" I cry, "Why is this so difficult? Why ..."

          I'm so busy berating myself that I don't realize someone is behind me until it's too late. A dagger slides a hair's breadth from my throat, and I wince, hating to be in such a vulnerable position. "Who dares -," I try to speak, but the assailant presses the dagger into my throat. "Quiet." Her voice promises death if I don't obey.

          I swallow my threat and glare. A feminine laugh, cruel and wicked, echoes behind me. I grind my teeth together as she speaks. "Rhys sent me to find you." I keep glaring, now annoyed at my mate. "Why would Rhys send you to -," I try again to speak, but she presses the dagger into my throat, even harder this time. "Because," she drawls, sounding bored of my questions, "I know what it's like to not have a child."

          I freeze, and she releases me. I spin around to face her, claws out, but pause when I see her. She's not much older than I am, but her eyes ... those bright blue eyes are ancient in a way that keeps me from attacking. Golden hair spills down her shoulders, the strands shifting in the wind, but she stands still as an asp. She cocks her head to the side, examining me, weighing me.

          She begins to clean out her nails with the dagger, not concerned about anything. "Rhys told me about the miscarriages. And about your most recent ... inability." She continues to clean her nails. "He what??" I spit, but she holds up a hand to stop me, and I want to kick myself for obeying, but I pause. "He thought," she continues, "it would be good for you to talk to someone who can empathize." She gives me a smirk.

          I can barely see I'm so angry. "Rhys," I stumble over his name, "Rhys told you?!!" My voice mounts in anger, and I lunge at her, not able to control my temper any longer. "He had no right!" I scream. My claws close around her, triumphant. And then I scream again, stumbling to the ground. My enemy merely laughs as I stare down at my blistering hands. "What did you do?" I seethe, but it's very clear. She burned me.