The Winter Queen

Contents Title Rights Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Epilogue Acknowledgments About the Author Also by J Gala Also by Jessica Gadziala Guide Contents Start of Content The Winter Queen J. Gala Copyright © 2023 Jessica Gadziala / J Gala All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without permission of the publisher is unlawful piracy and theft of the author's intellectual property. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for brief quotations used in a book review. "This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental." CHAPTER ONE Marielle It was a land devoid of color. Melancholia wrapped its long, cold arms around me, squeezing tight, chilling me down to the bone. Or, perhaps, it was simply the snow-laded landscape and my thin cloak that did nothing to stave off the chill within the carriage. The metal foot warmer that had been filled with boiling water at our last stop had long since gone cold. From the looks of things, I would need to get accustomed to the cold if I were meant to become the so-called “Winter Queen.” Or it may kill me yet, saving me from this marriage I did not want, but had no choice in regardless. It was well into spring in my homeland. There, the fields were bright green with fresh grass, little yellow, purple, and white flowers dotting the landscape, promising warmer days still. But this new land that was to be my home showed no signs of the seasons changing. Even the sun that was perched high in the sky, casting its dappled light through the trees and into the windows of the carriage provided little to no warmth. Casting a glance to both sides, though I had been quite alone since the beginning of the journey, save for the two men leading the carriage seemingly halfway around the world, I slid my hands into my bodice, pressing my frozen fingers against my warm breasts, trying to bring back feeling. I did not know much about surviving in the cold lands, but I had heard stories of fingers and toes getting so cold that they turned black and fell off. I did not have high hopes for my future, but I did at least wish to hope to retain my appendages. On a sigh, I turned my attention back out the window, taking in the barren trees, the thick snow, the occasional large black bird drifting through the endless white landscape. “Lady,” a voice called several long hours later, making me jerk fully awake. “Yes?” I asked, trying to pull myself together. “This is where we leave you, lady,” he informed me, waving toward a small building with white smoke billowing out of the chimney. A pathetic shiver racked my system at the very idea of a fire. “Leave me?” I asked, brows furrowing. “Yes, lady. From here, your husband’s guards will take you the rest of the way.” I wanted to object. I did not know my husband’s guards. I did not even yet know my husband. “Will I be safe?” I asked, hearing the tremble in my voice, but I had never been very good at hiding my true feelings. “They are the men who defend your husband, lady, who will defend you for the rest of your life,” my guard reasoned. There was not much concern in his voice. And why should there be? He had no loyalty to me. Not since my beloved father had passed. He now defended my uncle, the very man who had condemned me to a life in a frozen wasteland. He likely wanted to get back home. To spring. To warmth. To a life I would never again know. I could hardly begrudge him his eagerness. “Yes, of course,” I agreed, giving him a tight nod. “Here they come,” he said, nodding toward the small inn where several large men were making their way toward the carriage. I had never seen men quite so massive before. Tall. Wide. The men in my land were not much larger than the women, all of us rather slight and petite in size and stature. These men, in my homeland, would be seen as giants, as myths come to life. Outside of the carriage, one of the men and my current guards exchanged some words before the leader of this new group looked at the carriage, then moved forward to wrench the door open. Then there he was. I had known the flicker of attraction in my life. I had once fostered a small girlish crush on a stable boy with kind eyes and a strong body. But the sensation that worked itself down my spine and between my legs took me completely by surprise as I looked at his ruggedly handsome face with its wide, strong jaw, his dark eyes under stern-looking brows, and his hair so dark it was almost black. His gaze moved over me, but his eyes were so guarded, I could not determine his thoughts. Then his hand was shooting outward toward my feet, making me gasp and pull them back until I realized he was going toward the foot warmer, pressing his fingerless gloved hands against the frigid thing. “Fuck,” he hissed under his breath, making my eyes widen. Of course I had heard men and women swear before. Mostly servants who did not know they were being overheard. But I