First look at WEB OF FROST by Lindsay Smith!
A too-young queen
must learn to control her powers in order to save her empire, but can she trust
the man who’s taught her to use her gift?
About WEB OF FROST
The saints of Russalka
work their blessings in mysterious ways, allowing the royal family to perform
miracles for their people. But the young princess Katza fears her powers.
She’s seen grave visions of her bloodied hands destroying her family’s empire.
When her older brother succumbs to illness, leaving her next in line for the
throne, Katza turns to a young rebellious prophet named Ravin who promises to
teach her how to control her gift. As unrest grows in Russalka and a foreign
monarchy threatens, Ravin understands Katza's fears and helps her find
confidence in her gift, and her own heart. Under Ravin’s unorthodox training,
Katza learns to hear the saints once more—until revolutionaries claim her
father’s life.
Reeling and desperate,
Katza draws upon darker and darker powers to stop the revolutionaries, the
foreign invaders, and the members of her own court who would see her fail. But
the more Ravin whispers in her ear, the more Katza questions whether he—and the
saints—have her best interests at heart. She must choose between her love of
Ravin and her love of Russalka itself—and decide whether her empire might not
be better off without her.
Here is an exclusive excerpt from WEB OF FROST:
“An
incredible show of power,” Ravin said. “But you are capable of even more.” He
paused, and turned his head, almost peering back at her over his shoulder.
Again her gaze was drawn to the sharp line of his forehead, his nose beneath a
dark sheaf of his hair where it had fallen across his brow. “Show me.”
Katza
rolled her shoulders back. She had never before prayed to Saint Morozov; she’d
never had reason to. She scanned the icons in the sanctuary, looking for his
face—the blue eyes piercing with ice, the gray pallor of his skin as flecks of
frost wreathed him. But all the colors were washed out on the ancient icons—he
was hard to find. Saint Morozov. Her lips worked as
she sought him out. Saint Morozov. Grant me the chill in
your bones . . .
“No,
no.” Ravin stalked toward her, shoulders bristling with cold fury. “You don’t
need to focus on his icon. You must be able to draw the power anywhere.
Anytime. Morozov is only a filter for turning the raw power into ice. You must
reach past him.” He trembled with intensity. “Seize the power for yourself.
It’s already there, just waiting for you to grasp it.”
“I—I’m
sorry.” Katza bit her lower lip and looked down. Morozov.
Let your cold envelop me . . .
And
then she felt it, crawling inside her skin—the faintest threads of ice. If the
saints were filters for Boj’s raw power, then Katza imagined herself reaching
through that filter to grasp it at the source. Her breath crystallized before
her as she exhaled, then twinkled like glass as it fell to the floor. Frost
coated her hands, her face, and yet the cold was soothing, hardening around her
like a shelter . . .
No.
Like a tomb.
Katza
thrashed, panicking as her skin became solid, stiff with cold. “O, Boj,” she
cried. “I can’t—”
“You
have to release it,” Ravin shouted. “Don’t keep it trapped inside you!”
Katza’s
throat was closing up, turning into a block of ice. She tried to scream. Tried
to move her arms—she had to force the cold away from her—
She
flung her arms out wide.
Frost
shot out from all around her, spinning fine as a spider’s web. It spread up the
chapel walls, crunching and cracking as it went, riming the icons and choking
the candles Ravin had lit. Katza’s breathing eased and she felt a tide surging
through her. She was one with the ice, letting it into her as she spun it from
her, a perfect symbiosis.
Katza’s
chest rose and fell as she admired the ice thickening into columns and pillars
and intricate lacework all around them. With a command, she could pull it all
away. But she wouldn’t. She had made this, and she was in control, and everything
was beautiful.
A
voice inside her sighed happily and whispered in her ear, Yes.
“Incredible.”
Ravin was breathing heavily too as he approached her once more, stepping around
a pillar of ice. His dark eyes danced, reflecting the sunlight-kissed frost.
“You are truly in control of it.”
Katza
tested, fingers twitching; a column of ice thinned, melting, then thickened
again at her command. “I am. I can feel that power you were talking about, that
well. It’s just below the surface. But it’s rolling through me, a give and take
. . .”
“Yes.
You are in control of your power. But I, too, am blessed by Saint Morozov.” He
drew closer and raised his palm. Ice sheathed his fingers, glinting with the
menace of steel. “Can you stop it when someone else is using that blessing? Can
you melt it all away?”
Katza
staggered back from him, but backed into one of the columns of ice. She tried
to melt it, but it was one he’d created—she had no power over it. Frost fringed
onto her clothing, her hair, her neck, as if the column were consuming her,
swallowing her up. Again she felt that burn in her chest, crystals sprouting
and slicing her up, but it wasn’t in her control. She couldn’t push it away.
“Careful,
tsarechka.” Ravin laughed behind pressed lips. “Or
I’ll make a martyr of you.”
Panic
spiked through her, a shard of ice in the warmth of the saints’ gifts. “Please,
stop!”
His
face loomed before hers. Gray washed over his features; his lips were deathly
blue. “You must stop me.”
Katza
swallowed. She couldn’t. She would never be strong enough—but she had to. It
was what Russalka needed.
It
was what she’d been craving, all along.
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Other Books by Lindsay Smith
SEKRET http://amzn.to/2AXTMHu
DREAM STRIDER http://amzn.to/2EEox6y
Author Bio
Lindsay is the author of the
young adult novels Sekret, Dreamstrider, and A
Darkly Beating Heart, and is the showrunner and lead writer for Serial
Box's The Witch Who Came In From the Cold. Her work has appeared on
Tor.com and in the anthologies A Tyranny of Petticoats, Strange
Romance Vol. 3, and Toil & Trouble, and she has
written for Green Ronin Publishing's RPG properties. She lives in Washington,
DC with her husband and dog.
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