Chapter 3 - Cold Secrets
Wrenora
I woke well before the rest of the fortress, shivering beneath my blanket.
The cat was gone, and I already missed the warmth.
It seemed an unlikely place for such a creature—frozen, bare, nothing cozy whatsoever.
I couldn’t see the prince being tolerant of anything that didn’t fall in line, and a cat was the last thing that would follow anyone’s orders.
I listened for any sounds other than the heavy breathing of sleeping humans.
Emptiness crept in the longer I listened, filling the spaces of my mind with a hollow yearning.
I needed to get up and out of this cot. Maybe I could find a spot in the laundry to warm up until I needed to start work for the day.
I crept into the kitchen, glaring at the strange bread ovens built with the same enchanted metal as our shackles. Row upon row of empty work benches stood with clean surfaces, ready for the day’s work of feeding whoever it was that lived in this fortress with His Royal Broodiness.
On silent feet, I walked from room to room on the lower level, admiring the dedication to keeping everything dreary and frigid.
No fireplaces, no sources of warmth anywhere other than for cooking.
Light came from sconces illuminated with the soulless elven magic I’d come to learn were called wisplights.
It made sense that a frozen castle wouldn’t have any fireplaces, but my human skin craved the warmth, the golden glow, and the crackling sounds and cozy scent of burning wood.
Instead, we were surrounded by ice and snow—monochromatic and sterile.
There were no tapestries, no rugs, no decorations of any sort on this level, and from memory, I could say the same for the main hall and throne room.
The ornamentation was the ice, glittering facets that sent shivers down my spine.
I stood at the base of the servants’ staircase that wound up to the dining room.
I had no business climbing these stairs, but the way they twisted back on themselves hid what laid above in a way that made me burn with curiosity.
Something tugged at my soul and dragged me forward—the same nagging itch that had pulled me from my bed.
Swallowing my fear, I took a step.
Nothing happened. No icicles falling from the ceiling.
No blocks of ice melting beneath my feet.
Not that I thought there would be, but the prince had armor and a sword made of literal ice.
His reputation as a vicious warrior and powerful frost mage was well known.
These weren’t rumors. These were facts. I guess I expected more security measures to keep us in our place, but perhaps he was confident he didn’t need them.
I took a few more steps, pausing to listen. The fortress was still asleep.
I climbed the rest of the steps.
I paused at the top, gazing out at the formal dining room boasting a massive table with forty seats.
Each chair had been pushed so all the backs lined up, the space between each perfectly equal.
Over the table, a massive chandelier made of hundreds of icicles clung to the ceiling with wisplights mounted inside the frozen sculpture, casting shimmery slices of light over every surface.
It was beautiful, throwing fragments of rainbow in all directions.
I couldn’t deny how gorgeous it was, but like everything else, it was frozen solid. Cold.
Lifeless.
Something tugged in my chest, my feet taking several more steps in the direction of the door leading to the main hall. It felt like I was being pulled along toward the throne room, and I was helpless to stop my feet from taking each step with a little more confidence than the previous.
The throne room was as it had been, except the remains of Heirod had been cleaned up, the only evidence of his death a patch of ice the slightest bit shinier than the rest.
I wandered closer to the frozen woman in her never-ending vigil before the throne.
Her back was to the hall, but as I stepped around her, my breath caught in my throat.
Her eyes were wide, her mouth gaping in a cry for help, one arm outstretched toward the throne.
Each individual thread of frozen hair floated around her shoulders, so fragile I feared if I breathed too deeply, she might melt away into nothingness with the warmth of my breath.
Tenuous, like my life in the hands of a cruel prince.
Goosebumps erupted over my skin at the soft sound of footsteps echoing in the hall.
I spun to face the door. If I was caught on this level, who knew what the prince would do to me.
Have me executed, most likely. Perhaps kill me himself.
I was about to run, but...Perhaps it was a guard doing midnight rounds, and if I stood perfectly still, they might not notice me shivering in the dark.
I held my breath, putting the frozen woman between me and the door as the footsteps grew closer. I looked into the woman’s gaping eyes and swallowed my fear.
He floated through the doorway with the grace of a god—tall, broad-shouldered, and foreboding.
Prince Callan Vostbain wore the same face mask he wore before, allowing only his eyes to peek above.
He walked directly toward one of the massive windows, distracted by the view of the frigid landscape.
The hair rose on the back of my neck. He didn’t seem to notice me, but I’d have to take a breath sooner or later.
After a long moment, I let the breath out as quietly as I could. But when I took a breath in, his head turned slowly in my direction, recognition dawning on his face, his eyes going wide before narrowing.
“You.”
His sword materialized from the frigid air around us, destroying any bravery I might have had. It coalesced into the glimmering blade of ice that he extended toward me, the tip a mere inch from my throat.
“Did I not make myself clear?”
“I...Your Highness, I mean...” I stumbled over my words, trying to think of some excuse for being on this level and coming up with exactly zero.
“Thralls are not to be here,” he said between clenched teeth.
In my building fear, I reached a trembling hand toward the woman without thinking. As my fingers grazed the frozen surface of her arm, the air changed.
A warmth I hadn’t felt in days spilled through me, pooling in the air. She started melting, and not slowly. Water poured off her as she shrank. Gone were the delicate features, and the details in the folds of her dress became nothing but an indiscriminate lump of ice as she shrank into the floor.
“How...?” He took a step back, his sword sagging.
I wanted to run from him as water puddled around my feet. A strange tightness squeezed my chest, but instead of pulling me away, it tugged me closer.
This man would be my death. He would kill me—execute me in the same vicious way he’d killed Heirod—yet, as we glared at each other, something clicked into place.
His shoulders rose and fell with ragged breaths as the block of ice that used to be a woman all but disappeared. He took another step back.
“How...did you do that?” It was as if he’d lost words in the space between us.
I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. When I squeezed my eyes closed to focus, fat tears carved paths down my cheeks.
This was my end. This was when he’d kill me.
“Who...? Why are you...here?”
I took a trembling breath to answer. “I don’t...know. I followed the pull...”
He lowered his sword at my words, his shoulders relaxing. “What?”
“A pull.”
He shook his head, pressing fingers to his temple.
“A tugging...in my chest,” I continued.
He stood there looking at me, his eyes wide before he glanced back out through the window.
“I’m sorry, I—”
“Why are you here?” He wasn’t asking me anymore, instead asking the cloudy dawn sky.
“I’m so sorry. I...Please forgive me, Highness.” I tried to keep my voice level, my breathing even, but it was impossible. I was shaking uncontrollably. “I don’t know why, but I needed to see.”
His attention snapped back to me. My words were confusing, yet they were true.
I’d said what was in my heart. I had felt an irresistible need to follow what was on the other end of the thread pulling on my very soul.
I wished I could see the rest of his face, because it was clear my words meant something to him with the way he seemed frozen in place, shock plain across his brows.
This was when he’d kill me. He’d kill me now when I wasn’t expecting it—one swift swing of his ice blade. But he turned, walking toward the center of the room, his gaze directed at his feet.
Trembling, wishing I’d stayed in my cot, I took several steps back, squeezing my eyes shut. Why had I thought it would be a good idea, or frankly a safe one, to venture up to this level when I knew I wasn’t allowed?
Warm fur rubbed against my shins, and I glanced down at the cat. Where had it come from?
“You shouldn’t be on this level,” he said, far kinder than I anticipated, his eyes stalled on the fuzzy creature. Then, without another word, he disappeared through the doorway that led into the dark hall.
I wanted to run back down the stairs, but I was shaking so violently I could barely stand. I crumpled to the ground, throwing my arms around my knees as the cat rubbed against me. How was I still alive? How could I explain what happened? Should I tell anyone at all?
There were exactly three living souls in this place who knew what transpired tonight. One was a broody prince who could—and would—kill whomever he wished, one was a slave who no one would ever believe, and the third was a cat.
I dragged myself back to the servants’ staircase and raced down to the lower level where I belonged, vowing to never step foot on the upper levels ever again.