CHAPTER 7
“If a war breaks out, the Games shall return for the Gods. There shall be no woman ever to compete in the games. This has been written in the ways of the Deskyiara that once ruled the Kingdom when the first war broke out three hundred centuries ago. After a century of torment, the Deskyiara daughter, Sikenly, fulfilled her duty and brought peace upon the Realms once more. Remind your people to never be foolish again.” - Book of Azure
ICE. ICE IS EVERYWHERE.
Stretching as far as the eye can see as I scan our surroundings.
It's a frozen wilderness. Beautiful with its crystal-like presence sparkling everywhere. Majestic mountains of ice towering, jagged tips piercing through the swirling, cold smoke that cloaks us from the sky above. A thick veil of mist dances over us as I let my hand slowly rise, fingers stretching upward into the chilly sky. The cool mist dances around, playfully caressing my skin as we glide forward. The horse’s hooves pound against the thick blanket of snow beneath us as it strides forward, each step sending up plumes of thick, powdery-white snow.
I should be used to riding horses by now, but my thighs scream in pain.
My shoulder blades ache every time I squeeze Florian’s body, holding on tightly so I don’t fall.
I fear if I fall into the snow beneath us, it for sure would kill me.
This winter air is like nothing I have ever felt before and the air is thickening, making it harder for me to inhale deeply.
With every breath, my throat rattles, as if frozen ice is freezing inside of me. Torturing. Chilled. Agony.
But I must breathe.
Even if it's brutal to do so.
I look back at the desert beginning to fade into the distance, the sands giving away to this frozen expanse.
The wall, visible yet see-through, prevents the beasts from coming into these lands.
The sand dragons, with their sinuous bodies twisting and diving back into the rocky terrain, can no longer follow us into this icy wilderness.
I won’t miss that place.
I never want to go back there. Honestly, if I never see any of this ever again, I will be okay with that.
I suck in a shallow breath, feeling the icy air filling my lungs. My chest tightens. “It’s too cold.”
Goosebumps have risen all over my body as tiny ice particles begin to attach to my dark hair. My skin, once a rosy red, now is turning into a deep blue.
Florian glances over his shoulder, his autumn eyes widening as he sees the condition I am in. I am not dressed for this weather, but I feel, even if I were… the cold here would still freeze me to death.
He whips the reins, the horse picking up speed, sprinting through the Ice Nation faster than I have seen before. Maybe this is why he said no one ever rides faster than him.
No beast.
No person.
My arms tighten around his broad frame, desperately burrowing into his warmth with my cheek, clinging to every trace of heat I can steal. As if he is my anchor, my lifeline, and I hold on for dear life.
“You’re so warm,” I whisper through chattering teeth, my bottom lip quivering uncontrollably.
“We're almost there, I promise.” His voice drops to a deep command. “Don't fall asleep.”
I nod, my body seizing with each violent shiver.
“It's hard to… breathe,” I gasp, words escaping in ragged puffs as my eyelids flutter open and shut.
“Stop talking!” he growls, wielding the reins with violence, urging the horse into a frenzied gallop. His voice, a sound so unfamiliar… as if fear has crept into him and there is a hint of worry.
But that's impossible. He can’t worry about me. He wants me dead.
But as I stare up to him, watching his golden strands fly in the wind, I catch his jaw tense and his muscles tight, desperate to get us out of the brisk air.
Maybe I have him all wrong. Just maybe.
To my right, I notice a magnificent, towering castle with a bluish tint, nearly merging with the surrounding ice-covered mountains.
There's a frozen waterfall on the left, beyond two mountains that nearly obscure it.
The tall frozen trees stand with leaves as white as the snow blanketing the ground.
A bridge, elegantly sculpted from frozen water, extends gracefully to meet the ice wall that encircles the castle.
The dull sun, blocked by the smokey air, hits the castle perfectly, revealing the golden swirls of details within the ice.
As we ride over the bridge, the smooth, crystalline surface glistens, casting shimmering reflections onto the surrounding snow.
Guards posted in silver uniforms stand vigilant at every post, their breath visible in the crisp air, while their sharp eyes survey the scene at the entrance.
We ride through and within seconds, the cold vanishes. My body melts, feeling the heat I have been craving. The ice begins to melt off my hair, dripping against my exposed shoulder and down my arms.
My body relaxes and I close my eyes, resting against his back as we trot through the castle walls.
We arrive at the grand entrance of the castle, where the massive, oval, silver door looms imposingly above us, glinting in the sunlight like a giant shield.
Florian swiftly, yet gracefully, dismounts from his horse with ease.
He reaches up, his strong hands gently gripping my waist to assist me down, ensuring my feet touch the cobblestones with steadiness.
“Are you warm now?” His eyes frantically scan my face.
My brows deepen. “I don’t understand how…”
He cuts me off, as if he knows exactly what I am going to ask. “The curse.” He clears his throat. “Which is something you don’t know about. I’ll explain…”
The massive doors begin to open, a booming sound of metal against metal rubbing together as they glide open.
A guard in an all-black attire makes his way down to us, his sun-kissed skin marked with a few silver markings along his neck and black hair that curls down to his chest. But his silver eyes take my breath away.
“He is waiting for you,” the guard says.
Prince Florian deeply inhales. “I’m coming in.”
The guard nods his head, turning his body sharply and running up the stairs.
“Whatever you do…” Florian leans closer towards me, never blinking. “Don’t say anything. And I mean, anything.”
“Yes, your majesty,” I sarcastically say.
“It’s not, your majesty, yet.” He cocks his head to the side, revealing a slight smirk on his lips before taking a few steps ahead of me and up the stairs.
I follow closely, knowing I still am not dressed to fit in here.
And I worry, will the King ask questions like his son did? Will he believe the story I tell him?
The walkway is pure darkness, with intricate ice sculptures glistening around me like frozen sentinels.
The ceiling looms above with onyx cobblestone, aged and draped with timeworn flags, adding a hint of history to the hallway.
Florian's boots resonate with a rhythmic echo, each step he takes ahead of me reverberating through the still air. Everything is quiet. Guards don’t even whisper as I walk by.
I pivot on my toes, spinning slowly, trying to take it all in while continuing to move forward.
It's stunning.
But most importantly, it's warm.
As we enter a large room through steel doors two guards open for us, a throne of ice sits before us.
Sharp, thorn-like sculptures expand outwards from the throne with a walkway of white, powdered snow up to the King who sits there…
waiting patiently for his son. His elbow rests against the ice, his long finger tapping against his chin as he stares out the tall oval windows to the right of us, overlooking the frozen lake and waterfall in the distance.
His white hair flows downward to his stomach with small braids twisted underneath.
A solid crown, sculpted of ice with white tips, sits gracefully on his head with turquoise stones, mixed with silver embedded along the points.
“There you are,” the King bellows, lifting out his hands as we walk up to him. “Ah, is this the woman I heard about?”
Prince Florian halts in his tracks, throwing his arm out for me to stop as well.
“I’m sorry, Father. How did you know—”
“Your brother has told me all about her.” The King's body shifts forward, his elbows digging into his knees as if he is about to watch something fascinating unfold before his eyes.
My eyes dart between father and son, King and Prince, curious to who this brother might be and why there is this tension between the two of them rising by the second.
In the corner of my eye, a striking white tree with gnarled branches draped in white, powdered leaves captures my attention.
The cool, ambient light from the chandelier above casts a shimmering glow upon the tree, illuminating it with an ethereal presence whenever the light strikes it just right.
A man emerges, his onyx boots clacking harshly against the solid teal ice-like floor beneath us.
His tight leather pants hug his form and an unbuttoned shirt is tucked in with three of its buttons left undone, adding a hint of casual defiance to his appearance.
But once my eyes trace up his broad, masculine figure, my heart sinks… all the way down to the pit of my stomach. Maybe even further. Heat flashes up my neck as my insides turn. Him.
His dark, chocolate hair still gracefully curls around his shoulder but this time, some is pulled up in a messy bun, revealing the braids underneath his hair. His icy-blue, emerald eyes meet mine, and a small smirk tugs on his lips. My stomach sucks in, feeling rage burn through my veins.
Him.
I’ve never killed a person before, but I will gladly have him as my first.
But as my body boils with anger, his lingering glare snaps over to Florian and he cocks his head to the side, slowly and deliberately.
“Hello, brother,” he says gracefully. His hands twist behind his back as he casually walks our way.