Frost knelt deathly still and quiet in the shadows of the trees, 
Winter’s Kiss by his side, scrutinizing the scene.  So far Rory’s 
personal glamour was holding up exceptionally well.  None of the 
guards had detected him as being Frost’s stand-in.  Rory was known 
for being one of the best at personal glamour, with perhaps only 
Merry herself topping him.  And he appeared to be cooperating.  He 
had not alerted Cel to the deception.  At least not yet.  He knew he 
was being watched.  Or maybe he was telling the truth and Cel’s mind 
was not his own.  Cel DID seem to be more maniacal than his normal 
self. Yet Rory’s glamour would not hold through any torture session, 
especially at the hands of the Queen.

‘Kevames,’ Frost muttered to himself mentally. The last time he had 
seen the Seelie warrior known as “Poison Oak” on the battlefield was 
during the Goblin wars.  His whip inflicted a poison that slowly 
rotted the immortal body and his body fluids enslaved the mind, 
beckoning its darker desires for Kevames to manipulate.  And now 
Taranus had managed to infiltrate the Unseelie court using Kevames.  
It was obvious how he had enslaved the Queen.  The exchange of bodily 
fluids during intercourse was the norm.  But how did he infiltrate 
Cel so easily? Frost wasn’t even sure he really wanted to know the 
answer to that. Perhaps some kind of transfusion to keep the prince 
from completely losing his mind at the mercy of Branwyn’s tears and 
thus escaping Kevames control.  That's what he would keep telling 
himself anyway.

Frost himself had been subjected to Kevames lash back during the wars 
and had almost succumbed to its contagion.  If it hadn’t been for one 
person who knew the cure. A simple someone.  One of the earth.  A 
brownie.  Merry’s grandmother had come to him in his sick bed all 
those years ago.  The process had been long and arduous, but it had 
worked. But how to reach her now? If he left to contact the brownie 
woman, then surely Doyle would expire before his return…or Rory be 
discovered.  He couldn’t afford to lose time.  Then his eye spotted 
the girl with Doyle run from the group and into the trees at the 
other end of the parking lot.  Apparently she’d been let go. 
Unimportant.  ‘That’s what you think Kevames.  That’s your first 
mistake.’ Frost smiled coldly.  

As soon as the guards took the captives under control and left, Frost 
spread his physical being out on the wind until he was only a winter 
chill on the breeze.  It didn’t take long to track the woman and 
catch up to her.  He re-materialized behind her and grabbed her from 
behind cupping her mouth with his hand to silence her frightened 
protest. “Be at ease, Laurella,” he soothed quietly into her 
ear. “I’m a friend.” He didn’t mention his name out loud for fear the 
Queen would hear it on the night wind.  He turned her body in his 
grasp and she relaxed as soon as she spied his face.  He did move the 
hand over her mouth however. “I need you to do something for me.” He 
eyed for a response and she nodded.  “Do you know the house where 
Merry’s grandmother resides?” Laurella nodded again, not sure what 
that had to do with getting to Merry and warning her about Doyle’s 
capture.  She couldn’t believe that Frost had gotten away.  Surely 
they’d be after him any minute now.

“I need for you to go to her as quickly as possible.  Tell her 
everything that’s happened.  Tell her we need the cure for the Poison 
Oak’s whip.  She will understand.  I will come to you when it is 
safe.  Do you understand?”  Laurella nodded once more, but her eyes 
looked confused.  Slowly he lifted his hand and she whispered, 
shaking with terror. “But shouldn’t we tell Merry what’s happening 
first? She has to come…”

Frost cut her off mid-sentence, “DO NOT!  This whole play is a trap 
being set for Merry.  I’m not sure what they’re up to, but if Merry 
comes here…all will be lost.  Do you understand me? Go to her 
grandmother’s and wait for me.”  Laurella eyed the silver warrior a 
moment more before nodding. “How did you get free from Cel and the 
guards? Won’t they be looking for you?” she questioned.  He smiled 
down at her conspiratorially. “I didn’t get away.  At least that’s 
what they think.” He winked at the quite, green-haired beauty at his 
side.  He’d seen through the years the little glances between her and 
his friend.  Confirmation of his suspicions that they had feelings 
for one another shown brightly in her tear-glazed eyes.  He reached a 
hand up to cup her face in comfort.  “I will get him out. Have faith 
in that, little one.”  She smiled at him.  

“How did you know that they had set a trap for you outside the 
mounds?” she asked. “Logical deduction.  As soon as Doyle and 
Barinthus left the banquet hall, they would know he’d called for 
help. They would have set a trap.” She furrowed her lovely 
brows, “How do you know?” He stroked down her hair, finally pulling 
her into a gentle embrace until he could feel her trembling 
lessen.  “Because that’s what I would have done,” He replied matter 
of factly.  She laid her ear against his chest listening to his heart 
and it calmed her nerves.  This man was Doyle’s best friend.  If 
anybody could save him from what awaited them, it was him.  She could 
only believe that and do his bidding.  “What will you do now?” she 
asked softly.  “How will you get into the mound without being 
detected?  How will you get them out?”

Frost looked off towards the mounds.  His precious home.  He’d spent 
centuries tucked away guarding the premises.  He knew every nook and 
cranny.  He knew every entry point; both those that were guarded and 
those that were unguarded. “I have the element of surprise on my side…
and for the rest, I’ll improvise.” He murmured resolutely over the 
top of her head.  Improvisation was the best offense.  One could not 
counter something that was un-predicted even by the offender.  Still 
time was against him.  He turned Laurella towards the old brownie’s 
home and sent her off, “Now go. And be careful, Laurella.  Doyle’s 
life depends on it.”  He watched her move away quietly into the night 
and then turned toward the mounds.  Once again spread himself out on 
the wind and made for the ancient faerie home.  If anyone had been 
paying attention, they would have noticed the sudden chill that 
permeated the atmosphere.  But no one was looking for him. ‘Paybacks 
are hell, Kevames.  Ready or not, here I come.’ He whispered into the 
night.