Melt Page 3

  Kun waved her hand airily. "If you tried to take him home, he would undoubtedly freeze to death anyway. He has no family, no one who cares, except the girl he was trying to impress when he fastened his sled to your sleigh. Once she starts to miss his company, she will come to claim him. But if you do not, she will not yet care…and you will have to find another way to make this match."

  Briska wrung her hands. "But if anything happens to him…I can't make a match if the boy's dead. And it's a dangerous journey up the mountain alone. All sorts of things might happen to the girl before she gets here."

  Kun laughed. "The girl will not be alone, for she'll have plenty of help. You're not on that lonely rock any more, with nothing but deer. You just concentrate on keeping the boy there, ready for when she arrives."

  "But…"

  "That is an order."

  Briska slumped. "As you wish, Mistress."

  "If you tire of watching him, then perhaps you can make a new match while you wait. Lubos and Molina, a prince and a miller's daughter…"

  Briska stared at the unlikely pair, wondering what could attract a prince to some common peasant. Oh, she was pretty, she supposed, but not unless she stretched out naked before him, at precisely the moment when he fancied a roll in the hay…

  Men. So predictable. She would have this pair so tightly entwined with one another not even the king himself could break them apart. And before Kai woke, too.

  "Yes, Mistress. I will match them, too."

  "Good. Watch out for Rumpelstiltskin, though, for he will try to stop you at every turn."

  Briska opened her mouth to ask for more information, but it was too late. The mirror's surface returned to a reflection of the icy walls of the palace. Only then did Briska curse the day she'd ever agreed to become a djinn. A prince and a peasant, some man with a strange name, plus this frozen boy and a girl intent on rescuing him…Briska could feel it in her bones: neither match would not turn out well for her, at all.

  Twelve

  Daily, Briska asked her mistress about the progress of the girl who was to save the increasingly pale boy in her palace.

  "She is travelling down the river by boat."

  "She has been captured by a witch."

  "She seeks word of him from flowers."

  "Some crows have taken her under their wing."

  "She is at the royal palace, sleeping in the prince's bed."

  Each answer seemed worse than the last.

  "If she has become a prince's mistress, then surely she will not want the boy. May I send him home?" Briska asked, reaching out to touch the boy.

  "Of course not. She merely sleeps in his bed. The prince has a wife of his own, and shares her bed. The girl mistook the prince for her match, the boy you hold, and you must keep him still, for she will come for him. She will be along shortly, for she will soon meet the reindeer who pulled your sleigh, and the beast will bring her to you."

  Then the mirror clouded again, before reflecting the wall.

  Briska should have felt relieved, knowing the match would be made soon, but she couldn't shake off an awful feeling of foreboding. After all, that Hansel and Gretel pair had seemed like such a simple match to make, and they'd nearly killed her.

  Curse that Gretel girl for hiding her powers. What kind of witch did such a thing? Why, the girl deserved to be a djinn for misusing her powers so. It was only a matter of time before she came to the attention of her king, and what monarch would want a fire witch free in his kingdom?

  The sooner the better, really, for if the girl found out Briska had survived the blaze…Briska shivered, and not from cold.

  And here she was, waiting for what had to be another witch to arrive, for Gerda must have some magic in order to speak to plants and animals.

  Dread settled in Briska's belly, like she'd swallowed a stone. She had to wake the boy, and take him home. No, take him home, then wake him.

  A portal. She needed to cast a portal, the kind of magical doorway that would let her travel from here to his home.

  Briska bit her lip, praying she could cast it this time. She traced a circle with her hand, then another, and another…

  Over and over, she sank her teeth into her lip, until all she could taste was blood, but the portal never opened. Briska fell to her knees, defeated, and let her tears fall. Only they tinkled as they hit the icy floor, frozen the moment they left her face.

  With the temperature dropping, both she and the boy would need more blankets. If they could not leave, then they must endure…and wait for the inevitable.

  Thirteen

  The moment Briska saw the reindeer outside, she looked for a place to hide. But where did one hide, when every wall of her palace was made of crystalline ice, so clear you could see through them?

  So she left the boy in the chamber with her mirror, and hid in the farthest corner of the palace from him. For hours she huddled in her corner, waiting for the couple to leave.

  Finally, when it was dark enough outside for the aurora to be seen, she crept from her hiding spot. The light played across the walls, spinning and fracturing and reforming around her, but Briska ignored it. She would use the mirror to contact her mistress and tell her the match was made, and then –

  Something crashed into the back of her head, sending her tumbling to the floor. Briska's hands scrabbled for purchase on the frozen floor, but she found none. The best she could do was to turn herself over to face her attacker.

  "That’s the witch who bespelled me," the boy said, pointing.

  The girl hefted an icicle in her hand, a deadly point as long as her forearm. "What did she do to you?"

  Briska scrambled back, skidding on the ice until her back met the wall. "I didn't do anything. I didn't, I swear!"

  "She cast some spell on my sled so I couldn't unfasten it from her sleigh, and I couldn't get off, either. Then she cast some other spell on me so I couldn't move, and dragged me here to freeze to death. There's no other food here. She must mean to eat me!"

  "No, I – "

  The girl advanced. "We can't let her live. If she planned to kill and eat you…how many others has she murdered already?"

  "Please – "

  The boy stretched out his hand. "I should strike the blow, not you, Gerda. After all, it was me she meant to kill."

  Gerda held the icicle out of his reach. "Get your own and we'll do it together. I'll watch her, and make sure she doesn't try anything." She turned her glare on Briska.

  For the second time, Briska found herself facing a witch who wanted to kill her. Why hadn't she been gifted with more than a whisper of magic power? The only spell she knew she could cast would only make her situation here worse, for the one thing this girl desired most was Briska's death, and Briska could only heighten that desire, not change it.

  "Please, I mean you no harm. Just take your friend and go," Briska pleaded.

  But Gerda was deaf to her pleas.

  The boy returned, carrying an icicle as thick as his arm and easily a yard long.

  Briska's voice died. She could only look from one to the other, begging with her eyes.

  "On three," the girl said grimly.

  "One, two…three!"

  Briska screamed as two ice spears drove into her body. Something warm gushed down her back and she dimly realised that one of the spikes had gone right the way through her.

  She slid to the floor, her vision fading.

  The last thing she saw was the boy and girl, lifting the mirror between them to smash it on the floor, before they walked out of the palace, hand in hand.

  Briska's last thought was that at least she'd made the match right before she died. Mistress Kun couldn't fault her on that.

  Fourteen

  Rasping again. Amani tried to shout for whoever it was to stop, but the only sound was a gurgle, for there was nothing but water in his cramped quarters. How he was still alive, he did not know.

  Then the horrible feeling of being squeezed and crushed came again, before
Amani drew in the most beautiful breath of air his lungs had ever tasted.

  "How may I serve you, Master?" he boomed, ready to reward whoever had freed him from his tiny prison.

  "It talked! The lamp smoke talked!"

  Amani found himself facing two shabbily dressed camel drivers, one of whom must have dropped the lamp when he fell backwards in surprise. The two men ran away.

  Amani sighed. He allowed himself the luxury of looking around. He was no longer in the Sultan's palace, judging by the desert dunes on all sides of the tiny spring. Definitely outside the city gates. He had no idea how much time had passed. A day, at least, for the sun was sinking and it had been night time when he was last forced into his prison.

  He nudged the lamp with his foot. Such a tiny thing, but he could see the magic twining around it, and him, biding them together. Imprisoned in a common, tarnished lamp. The Sultan had truly intended to insult him. And he'd succeeded, curse him.

  "Who are you?" an imperious voice demanded.

  Amani looked up. The voice belonged to someone dressed as richly as the Sultan, or Amani himself.

  "I am Amani, the most powerful sorcerer in all the world," Amani said grandly. Hope swelled in his chest at the realisation that he hadn't been forced to bow to the man. Was he somehow free?

  "He came out of this, Your Highness!" one of the camel drivers said, seizing the lamp. He shook the sand off it, then presented it to the well-dressed man.

  "What was a powerful sorcerer doing inside a lamp?" the well-dressed man asked.

  "I was imprisoned inside it for my crimes, Master," Amani said, hating the words that he could not stop himself from saying. "I am the slave of the lamp, ready to obey your every wish."

  "Hmm." The well-dressed man eyed him thoughtfully. "I have no need of another slave, but if you are telling the truth about being a powerful sorcerer, perhaps I might find some use for you. Rejoice, for you now serve Prince Philemon of Tasnim!"

  Tasnim, the mysterious underground city that owed its wealth to its water wells, deep under the desert, that travellers paid a great deal to drink from. In better circumstances, Amani might have offered his services to the Prince of Tasnim. But he could not rejoice, no matter how strong the order. Some magic was beyond even Amani.

  For without Briska, life could hold no joy.

  So he said, "Yes, Master," and waited. For what, he did not know.

  Fifteen

  Briska blinked her eyes open, barely believing she could. "Is this paradise?" she asked.

  "Heavens, no. If paradise were this cold, even the virtuous souls would have revolted by now. I'm sure it's as fitting as fire is for hell. Hardly a reward."

  "Mistress," Briska managed to say as Kun's face came into view. "Why am I not dead?"

  "Don't look to me for miracles. You're a djinn. You can't die. No matter how many holes that ungrateful pair punched into you."

  Briska coughed, then doubled over in agony as the movement set fire to her chest. She reached to touch her torso, feeling for the holes that were no longer there. "How?"

  "I pulled them out. Then your body simply healed, like djinn do. Enslavement isn't all bad when it includes immortality." Kun shrugged. "It's supposed to be a punishment, prolonging the period of servitude. You don't age and you don't die. Some djinn have lived for centuries."

  Centuries of this? "Better to die outright than to suffer it over and over again."

  Kun regarded her. "You are allowed to use your magic to defend yourself, you know."

  "My magic is not strong enough for that."

  "After the fire and now this, I wonder what use your magic is at all." Kun hung the mirror back on the wall, which appeared to have never been broken. "Perhaps I should have just left you here, impaled on ice."

  Briska moistened her lips. "Thank you for saving me, Mistress," she said. "If you give me another chance, another couple, maybe…but not a witch. Djinn or not, I do not think I can survive another spell."

  Kun laughed. "Who do you think you are matchmaking, if not witches? Someone must see that another generation of magic users is born, and tend the bloodlines. Every match you make is for a witch."

  Briska shrank against the floor, wishing she could sink right through it. "Then help me hide from them, Mistress," she begged. "I will make the match, cast what spells I can to help love blossom between whoever you command, but please hide me from them. If there was some way I could stay here, far from harm, and still bespell them…"

  "Perhaps there is," Kun said, stroking the mirror. "But you must promise to match every couple I send you, without protest. There shall be no repeat of the Hansel and Gretel affair."

  Briska shook her head, then winced. "No, Mistress. I shall match every couple." That Gretel girl still gave her the shivers. "Is there any way you can hide me from Gretel, too?"

  "I shall cast a spell on the mirror, allowing you to use it to not only see the couple you are to match, but cast spells through the glass, too. And I shall hide this palace, so that no magic may find it. All you must do is stay within its walls, and you may hide from the world. And I will not have to come here to save you again."

  Briska lay back, breathing a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Mistress."

  Some time passed before Kun said, "There. It is done. On the morrow, I will send you a new couple to match. Take care that you do not let all the ice up here freeze your heart, so you can't even cast your feeble love spell."

  Without waiting for an answer, the enchantress cast a blinding blue portal and vanished.

  Only then did Briska dare to breathe again. Her heart had frozen the day Amani died, and nothing would touch it, ever again.

  And love spells? No one could cast those, not even the most powerful enchantress, for love had a magic of its own that overpowered all other spells. No, she worked with lust, and seduction. She could seduce a man to her bed in a moment, or stoke a spark of lust into a raging inferno. If that Hansel and Gretel hadn't been brother and sister, she'd have matched them the moment they woke in their prison. As for Gerda and Kai…

  Briska swore she'd do better next time. And if she was safe in her icy citadel, far from the reach of any vengeful witch, Kun would never have the excuse to call her spells feeble again.

  Sixteen

  "Enough," Briska commanded, and the writhing, naked bodies in the mirror turned to reflected blue. Now she was done with them, no one would pry Snow White away from her prince.

  She pressed her hands against the icy wall, then against her flaming cheeks, attempting to cool them. The glassy walls were weeping, it felt so hot in here, almost as though the steamy scene between Snow White and her match had heated up the palace, too.

  If Briska had Amani here right now, she would…

  She closed her eyes, feeling the icy chill invade her heart again. She didn't need to look to know the palace had frozen into its usual crystalline splendour, showing no sign of the recent melt.

  Mistress Kun would be pleased at her success, she was sure of it.

  If only Briska could feel some measure of satisfaction in it, but she felt nothing. While passion raged between Snow White and her prince, her heart was empty.

  There was no one left to love.

  Even her daughter had been torn from her.

  If she could only see Maram again…

  Briska stretched a hand toward the mirror, wishing with every bit of her being that she might glimpse the girl again.

  But Maram was too young for matchmaking. She was barely old enough to play with the dolls Amani had bought for her.

  The mirror surface rippled, clouded, then cleared.

  Briska's breath caught in her throat.

  Maram crouched in the garden, unnoticed in the dark. Light and laughter floated from the harem halls, but Maram only hugged her dolls tighter to her chest. What was the girl doing, awake so late? Had no one put her to bed, as they should?

  Women passed her, taking no notice of the child.

  Briska bit her lip,
sending a spell through the aether to the harem. She let it expand like mist, until it had touched every woman present.

  "Where is Maram?" murmured one, then another, until the whole harem started searching for the little girl.

  It was a concubine who found her, a girl Briska remembered because she'd borne the Sultan a daughter not long after Briska had birthed Maram. What was her name again? N-something. Naheed, that was it.

  Briska dug her teeth deeper into her lip, and sent out the most powerful seduction spell she'd ever cast. Not at Naheed but at the little girl in her arms.

  A chorus of coos from the women standing around Naheed told her the spell had worked.

  "Yes, love my daughter for me," Briska said. "He might have removed me from her life, but she will not go unloved. Every one of you will hold her as dear as your own child."

  She watched greedily as Naheed hugged the girl tightly, carrying her to bed. Briska would have given anything to hold Maram in her own arms, and perhaps one day she would, but in the meantime…she would at least watch.

  As long as her mistress never found out.

  For Kun must never know.

  Briska took one last, longing look at Maram, before wiping the picture from the mirror. She would tell Mistress Kun about her success with Snow White in the morning, and accept her next assignment. One day, the matchmaking would end, and Kun would release her to go home to her daughter. One day.

  However long it took, however many matches she had to make, Briska swore she would win her freedom.

  For Maram.

  Seventeen

  A dragon. A huge, fire-breathing, sword-crushing dragon. Briska stared in awe, hardly daring to believe her own eyes. Giants, unicorns…she thought she'd seen everything with this couple, but she hadn't expected to actually see a dragon.

  It should have been simple, but she'd learned by now that no witch's mind was simple. George had needed barely a nudge from her magic to fall madly in love with Melitta, but the cool, collected maiden didn't seem to experience passion of any kind.