Frost by E. Latimer

tight on my sword, my smile savage. The words of my queen are still warm in my breast. 
"My daughter, you make me proud. Continue to do so today. Take them while they are engaged in their foolish revelry. Overturn their tables. Spill their extravagant feasts to the floor. Bring me the head of their king and their women and children for slaves."
I remember the firm touch of her hand on my shoulder, the iron strength in her pale arms as she spoke.
“Fight for me, Amora.”

Chapter Thirteen
 
I bolted upright, my thin nightgown clinging to my back. The darkness was unfamiliar, and it took me a moment to remember I wasn't in bed at home. I was in a seedy motel room, being chased by mythological beings—giants, things that shouldn't exist. And, if ruining my entire life hadn’t been enough, they were invading my dreams every night.
And…Amora. She’d said that name in my dream. What the hell did that mean?
My entire body shook. I curled my knees up to my chest, huddling miserably in the center of the bed. Tears burned the backs of my eyes, and I finally gave in to the inevitable, pressing my forehead to my knees, shoulders shaking as I sobbed.
Who was this queen invading my dreams, and what did it mean? It couldn’t be the same queen Erik had talked about. It felt like I was going insane.
I shivered and uncurled, stretching my legs. Somehow, I was sweaty and cold at the same time. Shuffling to the bathroom, I hit the light switch, and squinted at the sudden onslaught of light. Right now, having a hot shower and collecting myself was the priority. I would deal with all of this tomorrow.
Maybe Erik could explain. Maybe he'd be able to tell me why I became some kind of sword-wielding nutcase every time I closed my eyes. And why this strange, cold woman haunted every dream.
I stripped the sticky nightgown off as fast as I could, moving for the shower. A flash of movement in the mirror caught my attention and I stopped, pulse fluttering.
The woman in the mirror wasn't me. Couldn't have been me. She had all the same features: tall and lean, with small breasts that had been the subject of many frustrating bathing suit shopping trips, long legs with knees that were just a little bit knock-kneed, a scar near my left hip from when I'd run full tilt into a glass coffee table. She had a pointed chin and a too-thin bottom lip—but that’s where the resemblances ended. Her eyes were the wrong color. Pale blue.
Like Erik's eyes , a sensible little voice in my head said.
The eyes weren’t the only disturbing thing the mirror showed me though. My hair was now several shades lighter than it had been that morning. There was no getting around it. I wasn't blond anymore. My hair was white .
I let out a wheezing gasp and sagged forward, bracing myself on the counter top. It had to be my tired eyes playing tricks on me. I shut my eyes tight, grasping the edge of the sink.
Snap out of it.
A crackling sound made me jerk upright, staring down at my hands, and cold sweat broke out on my forehead. The bathroom sink was encased in a thick sheet of ice, and the wooden cabinet beneath it was covered in thin, white frost. I couldn't keep doing this.
Sooner or later, I was going to hurt someone again.

Chapter Fourteen
     
I was used to certain morning sounds—birds chirping or Dave singing in his off-key tenor in the shower. Instead, my morning preparations were set to the soundtrack of the dull, repetitive thump of someone's headboard against the other side of the wall.
The sounds of the hotel were not the least bit soothing. As if I hadn’t had enough to keep me awake last night, someone had been stomping around on the floor above, slamming doors. A screaming match had ensued somewhere over my room, a woman and a man with a deep baritone voice.
Out of all the craptastic hotels, I’d picked this one.
I sighed, my stomach roiling in protest as I shuffled to the bathroom. In the mirror, everything was still the same. My hair was still white, my