Chapter 10 #2
I wander the castle humming under my breath, the faint tune shaping itself as I go. With every echoing step, my hum grows louder until it becomes something like a song. Playful, wild, entirely unlike the heavy silence that usually smothers these halls.
I glide along the ice-slick floor, letting my boots skim and slide. The chill that used to bite at my ankles now feels almost welcome. I scoop up handfuls of snow blown in through the open windows and puff them into the air, watching the flakes scatter around me like tiny shivering stars.
Soon I am twirling and spinning, letting the movement lift something inside me that has been heavy for weeks. Fear, loneliness, exhaustion, all of it loosens as I lose myself in a rush of carefree madness.
A laugh slips free, real and bright. Then a chorus of chatters, clicks, and flutters brings me to a breathless stop.
One sprite perches atop a frost-dusted statue, its beady glacial eyes peering down at me with deep suspicion. The other bounds across the floor, head tilted, wings twitching with restless energy.
I do not understand a word they are saying, but the question is written plainly across their scrunched little faces. What are you doing, you crazy human?
My answer comes easily.
I bend and scoop up a handful of snow from the floor, packing it tight between my palms, and before I can second-guess myself, I hurl it straight at the sprite on the ground.
The snowball strikes it square in the belly, sending it tumbling backward, wings flapping wildly until it manages to steady itself midair.
The sprite perched on the statue whirls into the air, mouth hanging open in shock. They stare at each other, then slowly turn their gazes back to me.
I burst into laughter. It shakes through me, a release so needed it almost hurts.
But I hardly have time to enjoy it before something cold and solid smacks me right between the eyes.
I gasp as the snowball bursts across my face, sliding down the bridge of my nose. I sputter, wiping away the icy powder.
The sprites collapse into hysterical screeches, rolling over each other on the icy floor, wings twitching in delight at their victory.
I narrow my eyes.
“Right,” I mutter.
I scoop up another handful of snow, pack it tight, and hurl it with as much force as I can muster.
The sprites dodge with infuriating ease, darting left, then right, wings blurring as they shriek with laughter. Then both zip around the corner and vanish.
“Oh, no you don’t,” I call, sprinting after them.
The moment I round the bend, a snowball slams into my cheek hard enough to make me stumble. Another pelts my shoulder. The sprites perch atop the archway, cackling so wildly they nearly tumble off.
When I step forward, scowl deep and deadly serious, they squeal and scatter, and I tear after them once more.
Gods, is this what it feels like to play? To be foolish? To be free?
I never got to be a child. There was always something that needed doing, someone to look after, something to worry over. My life has never been light enough to spare time for joy.
But now, running across icy stone with my braid whipping behind me, cheeks burning and snowballs flying, joy crashes over me so fiercely I nearly forget how to breathe.
I scoop another snowball and throw it with perfect, furious precision.
It clips one sprite’s wing and sends the little creature reeling into a wall.
It lets out a high-pitched squeak before sliding down the stone in a dazed heap.
“Oh, no!” I gasp, rushing over. I crouch beside it, hands hovering uselessly. “Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry. Are you alright? Can you hear…?”
Something yanks my braid so violently my feet leave the floor.
I yelp, kicking wildly as I’m hoisted four feet into the air. The second sprite has both clawed hands wrapped tight around my braid, wings beating furiously, cackling right into my face.
“Put me down! Put me…!”
It drops me.
I hit the floor on my backside with an undignified thud, wincing as the shock ripples up my spine. The sprite, delighted by my suffering, zips away down the hall.
Gritting my teeth, I scramble to my feet and chase it, just in time to see it come to an abrupt halt before the locked door near the rose garden.
The forbidden door.
The one Atilia told me never to enter.
I roll another snowball in my palms, stalking toward the sprite with exaggerated stealth. My smile stretches wide, tongue poking out the side of my mouth as I take aim.
But before I can release it, the sprite reaches for the lock. Frost bursts from its fingertips.
The metal freezes solid, whitening, then graying, before snapping clean in half and dropping to the floor, where it shatters into glittering dust.
My jaw drops.
The sprite turns to me, waggling its fingers on either side of its almond-shaped head, tongue stuck out in a mocking raspberry.
Then with wicked glee it ducks through the door and disappears into the forbidden room.
I pause.
There are so many reasons I should follow the little menace through that door.To win this snowball war once and for all.To drag the creature out by its pointy ears.To discover for myself why this room is forbidden.
But there is one singular, blaring reason I should not step inside.
Luceran.
He has made a point of avoiding me. Ignored every meal I prepared. Boarded my windows shut. I have no doubt that if he catches me in that room, I’ll spend the rest of my short life in the Aurevault.
But still… he’s not here.
Is he?
I take a hesitant step toward the threshold, but a sharp squeak stops me in my tracks.
I jolt and look down. The other sprite, still sore from the snowball that sent it crashing into the wall, scrambles upright. Its wings buzz in a frantic blur as it shoots into the air and hovers mere inches from my nose, shaking its head so violently its whole body wobbles.
I lift an eyebrow.
I take another deliberate step.
The sprite zips in front of me and thrusts a furious little finger in my face, tiny features twisted in warning.
It does not want me to go in there.
Which of course makes me want to go in even more.
I step forward again.
The sprite panics, shrieking in high-pitched protest, flailing its arms, wings beating so hard they send little whirlwinds of frost spiraling across my face.
But I don’t stop.
I cross the threshold.
I step inside.