Chapter 11
Dalla’s sleep that night was fitful. In her dreams, Kolfrosta hovered over her, teeth red with Dalla’s blood.
Then, Kolfrosta bowed over a graveyard of Dalla’s family—eleven headstones paired with one open hole for Dalla’s body.
Kolfrosta, silver lashes fluttering as she leaned down to give Dalla a kiss; Kolfrosta between Dalla’s thighs, looking up at her with those dark eyes that held a thousand secrets.
Kolfrosta, Kolfrosta, Kolfrosta. Chasing, licking, killing, kissing.
Dalla woke with her heart pounding. Faded daylight flooded the room through the window, an overcast sky’s light reflected from the snow. The sheets were so warm that getting out of them was unthinkable.
These were not her guest rooms, but the rooms of the ruler of this palace.
Next to her: Kolfrosta, her captor and, at least once, lover.
So much less imposing asleep and bare, her hair tangled up around her shoulders.
Her body rose and fell with even breaths.
Dalla stroked Kolfrosta’s spine with the back of her finger, pressed a kiss to her skin.
Kolfrosta was deep asleep, and the snow under her skin seemed to slumber too, eddying in lazy circles.
“Happy Yule,” Dalla murmured. It was not lost on her that Kolfrosta’s Yules were far from happy.
Dalla’s stomach rumbled, and in response, a delicious smell filled the room.
To the left of the bed, someone had left a tray of food: sweet bread in the shape of a sun and a bowl of something hot.
She picked up the bowl. Warmth seeped into her hands, comforting and inviting, and she lifted it to her lips.
Creamy chocolate met her tongue. She took one long sip and then froze. What was that? The reflection of her eyelashes peered back at her from the murky liquid.
Peppermint. She tasted a hint of peppermint.
Hundreds of times growing up, she’d woken from her feverish nightmares to this beverage. Only one person had ever prepared it for her.
Dalla set the bowl down. “Fonn?” she whispered to the air.
There was no response. But then, the invisible servants had never spoken to her… Because they didn’t know who Dalla was, she realized, hand flying to her mouth. Not anymore, anyway.
Dalla eased herself out of bed, careful not to wake Kolfrosta. She donned her discarded clothes, strapping her dagger around her waist and sliding the lost ring back over her finger.
What other purpose was there in the servants’ invisibility, if not to hide their identities from Dalla? And Kolfrosta had said she was not a murderer, but Dalla wasn’t sure she’d heard correctly.
It made more sense, then, for Kolfrosta to erase the royal family’s memories and keep them around, serving her until they died. And Dalla’s older sister was among the invisible servants here, perhaps devoid of any memories of her past life.
Even so, enough of Fonn’s mind remained that she prepared Dalla a cup of chocolate with peppermint after witnessing her struggle in her sleep.
Was it similar to muscle memory, Dalla wondered, the way her own arms remembered how to swing a sword?
Or did more of her family’s memories remain than base instincts and servitude?
Her mother and father deserved to pay for their actions, Dalla knew from experience and from reliving her mother’s memory. Most of her siblings, too, though Dalla had not been as personally affected by them, only their neglect.
But Fonn? Sweet Fonn, who tucked Dalla into bed? Who gave her her first book and taught her to read? Who protected her when she needed protecting and consoled her through her nervous attacks?
No. Fonn did not deserve the same fate as the rest of her family—of that, Dalla was sure. She needed to get her out of here.
But how?
The answers were in this room, she realized with a jolt.
The wooden box under Kolfrosta’s bed—from when Kolfrosta offered Dalla the memories of her first visit—contained a number of baubles.
Dalla had assumed some kind of importance regarding herself, like they were all her memories.
She tried to recall how many of them there were. Likely, around a dozen.
One of them had to belong to her sister. If she dashed it on the floor like she did with the others, her sister’s memories would be fully restored.
“Fonn?” Dalla whispered again. “Are you in here?”
The lack of response frustrated her. Fonn had communicated with her by preparing the drink, whether she meant to or not. And Dalla had no way to understand any response from her. Did Fonn remember Dalla’s name? Did she remember anything about who she was before Kolfrosta took her memories?
In the bed, Kolfrosta’s steady breathing continued. Dalla did not know what time it was, but Kolfrosta slept in quite late yesterday; surely, she would do the same today. Dalla crouched and crept back to the bed, fingers roving underneath the mattress. They found the box and pulled it forth.
She counted twelve baubles: one for each of her parents, herself, and the nine siblings who came before her.
Where the baubles on the tree in the main hall flashed with memories, the ones here swirled like little planets.
They were heavier than Dalla expected. She touched one, expecting to glean which was Fonn’s, but getting not even a glimpse of a memory from them.
This was a much stronger magic than she was used to.
She would have to break one and hope for the best. She reached in, palmed a bauble, and lifted it over her head.
“What are you doing?” Kolfrosta demanded.
Dalla stilled. She nearly dropped the bauble.
Kolfrosta sat up in the bed. Rage contorted her beautiful features. “You—you’re—I should have known. I should have…”
“Wait,” said Dalla. “Listen to me. You have my family trapped here, don’t you? You keep them in servitude. These are their stolen memories.”
“It is a better fate than they deserve,” Kolfrosta spat. “Kinder than death.”
“They deserve it, yes,” said Dalla, licking her lips. Somehow, being here without her memories seemed a worse fate than death, and that made her afraid, truly afraid, for the first time since her arrival. “But not my sister, Fonn.”
Kolfrosta’s gaze latched onto the bauble in Dalla’s hand. Dalla replaced it quickly in the box. Swore to herself. This could fuck up everything. All her work in preparing for this visit to protect her brothers.
Kolfrosta would understand, Dalla thought. She just needed to see Dalla’s perspective.
“If you could tell me which of these belongs to Fonn, I will restore her memories and take her back with me.”
“Why would I do that?” Kolfrosta asked. A chill crept into the room.
“Because she hasn’t done anything wrong. At worst, she is as unaware as I am. Both of us grew up so distant from our parents. We were not taught the same cruelty my older siblings were.”
Kolfrosta laughed, bitter and cold. “I suppose you are as na?ve as you claim. I have her memories. Don’t you think I know how she was raised and the things she has done?”
Dalla was quiet. Surely, if Kolfrosta could see Fonn’s memories, she would understand why Dalla sought to free her?
“You don’t know anything, Dalla,” said Kolfrosta. “Your sister worked with Puck like the rest of them. Her memories are unkind. Fonn kicked people in the street for not showing deference and used her power to hurt others. I can show you every one of her terrible memories.”
Dalla had never seen Fonn act like this, could not picture it. “You’re lying.”
“I am not lying,” Kolfrosta said. “But you were, when you said you would prove yourself to me. All you have proven is that I am foolish for trusting you.”
“You’re misunderstanding me,” Dalla said, feeling the situation spiral out of her control. “Fonn is kind. Maybe sometimes…” She tried to think of a single time Fonn had been anything other than perfect and came up empty. “Sometimes, we all fail to do good.”
“You misunderstand me,” said Kolfrosta. “Fonn may have been a good sister. But power got to her head as a queen, as it did for your other siblings. For you not to know this is a testament to how sheltered you made yourself.”
Dalla crumpled to the ground, deflated. “I can’t see her like that.” But it was possible, of course, wasn’t it? That Fonn had been a cruel ruler, and she did not show that side of herself to Dalla.
“You weren’t like them,” said Kolfrosta angrily. “You were the one who showed me kindness all those years ago despite me having kidnapped you. Ten years later, you showed me that power does not change who you are at the core. It does not corrupt your mind the way it has so many humans before you.”
“I’m so sorry,” Dalla said. “Fonn made me chocolate with peppermint. I thought…”
“It doesn’t matter,” Kolfrosta said. She slid her cloak over her shoulders and tied it tightly around her waist. Her skin was so bright, it was difficult to look directly at her—mirroring the high, burning sun that now swelled through the clouds and flooded past the room’s curtains.
Dalla looked away. “Puck will be here soon. I should go.”
“You will not,” Kolfrosta asserted. “You were going to free someone who is living a comfortable life here without a memory of the miserable tyrant they were. She’s someone who has hurt people, and I’ve given her the best life I can.
I don’t know what other mistakes you may make in my absence, but this one is large enough to give me second thoughts. ”
“No,” breathed Dalla. “Please don’t.”
“Come here,” Kolfrosta said. “Let us get this over with. It will be painless. You will be happy here.”
“You promised to let me go back,” Dalla said, knowing she wasn’t being fair.
“You promised to prove yourself to me,” Kolfrosta countered.
Dalla stepped forward. After this, she would be someone else, a pale echo of her old self.
She lowered her head as though waiting for an axe to come down.