Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Jack
Shoveling snow leopard waste inside the Palace’s magical beast enclosure sounded far more appealing than enduring another second of the battle debrief taking place in the War Room.
In fact, I could’ve thought of a thousand more mundane tasks I would’ve rather been doing, such as cataloging ancient texts in the archives, even stacking hay in the stables.
Anything was better than having to listen to a group of tired old lords discuss war strategies when most of them had never even stepped foot on a battlefield.
Queen Virelya of Skadgard, the Frost Queen, but also my mother, sat next to me at the head of the Frostbound Court’s council table, her long, black-steel-tipped nails impatiently tapping on the obsidian stone.
The immense table was a marvel of craftmanship, carved from the finest obsidian and polished to a mirror-like gleam that caught the dim light of the metal sconces lining the stone walls.
Every ridge, mound, and divot lay etched in an impressive topographic rendering of our kingdom, outlining the extensive reach of my mother’s power.
And the weight of it bore down on everyone present, including me.
Although I’d grown accustomed to my mother’s strong will, even this was chiseling me down to the marrow, and I didn’t know how much longer I could tolerate sitting there, pretending I didn’t know why we’d lost the battle against Yulreth—the North Pole, as it was known in the human world.
They were our neighboring realm to the east, and home to the beloved Saint Nicholas and his elves.
The words sounded absurd even in my head, and I’d been born into this world. Who would want to wage war against the mythological, jolly Ol’ Santa Claus?
Well, what the non-enchanted world didn’t know was that Yulreth was not only real, and one of Nordveld’s seven magical northern kingdoms that existed parallel to Earth, but it was far from the Christmas wonderland humans fancied to be a magical make-believe land comprised of twinkling lights, sweets, and presents.
Undoubtedly, Christmas was an integral part of their realm; the magic birthed by the happiness and joy it brought the human world fueled their land.
And at its core, Yulreth thrived with cheer and love, not malice or hatred.
But like in all kingdoms, power is paid for in blood, and our kingdoms had been at odds for centuries, especially when Christmas became the prime holiday celebrated by humans, dulling the magic of the Winter Solstice—the magic that had sustained my kingdom for eons.
I rubbed my eyes and fought a yawn. Sunlight was waning, which meant we’d been at this for hours, and the queen would likely keep us here until dawn if she had to.
She was not going to let anyone leave until she had the answers she wanted.
Answers I knew she wouldn’t be getting, or at least hoped she wouldn’t.
And the scorching stare coming from Captain Sylvanna Isenwulf, our apparent newly appointed captain of the guard standing to my left, wasn’t making things any easier.
My skin sizzled under her fierce gaze, and it made me want to fling myself through the War Room’s high story window rather than face her wrath.
Dressed in the captain’s royal standard uniform—a tailored black coat with silver stitching that traced the contours of her lithe form—she stood still as a statue, her arms crossed over her chest as she eyed me carefully from the entrance near the fireplace.
Her shoulders, strong from years of training, bore the insignia of her rank.
Across her chest, the pinned captain’s silver emblem gleamed.
Beneath the coat, black leather pants and boots completed the look, all practical and battle-worn.
Gods, she looked incredible. I’d only stolen a few glances her way, but it was impossible not to notice how well she wore that uniform.
Not because of her ridiculous figure—which admittedly, tugged a string of shameful guilt in my gut for even allowing myself to appreciate her feminine physique—but because she’d dreamed of earning the honor of becoming captain one day, and I couldn’t think of anyone more fit or more deserving to oversee the royal guard.
This had been her lifelong dream, and I was beyond proud of her.
Problem was, Sylvi wasn’t only the newly appointed captain of the guard tasked with ensuring my safety and the safety of the palace, but she was also my best friend, and if she knew the actual reason I’d been gone for the last seven days, she would likely stick the fire poker standing beside her straight through my brain.
Her jet-black hair, impossibly dark and almost tinged midnight blue, was tied back into a severe bun, emphasizing her high cheekbones and long-lashed, almond-shaped glimmering eyes—eyes the color of a winter sunset on a clear evening, and brilliant enough to outshine the stars.
They were the kind of eyes that could burrow into your soul and dig out all your secrets, and right now she was looking at me with a preternatural knowing that made my insides tremble.
Gods. She could read me so well, it was unnerving. No one at the table had seemed to notice my unease, except for Sylvi, and the way she skewered me across the room with her narrowed gaze told me exactly what had gone through her mind.
Her brows pinched. You’ve got some serious explaining to do…
I clenched my teeth and gave her a brief side eye. Not now.
She rolled her shoulders as she stood straighter, her crossed arms tightening even further across her chest.
Yeah, she was more than pissed. Her temper was flaring hotter than a supernova.
Fidgeting with my platinum insignia ring on my index finger, I kept spinning it around, trying to concentrate on the never-ending battle debrief instead of how royally I’d fucked up with Sylvi.
A war was brewing on our borders, and something sinister was awakening in our lands, yet the one thing eating me up more was the fact that I hadn’t been here for her when she was promoted to captain.
I hadn’t come to see her when I strolled into the palace last night after being gone for days without a word.
And I hadn’t been honest with her before I’d even left for the border.
My rumbling thoughts were interrupted when the conversation began to stir again, voices rising in a heated debate.
Sitting across the council table from me was Lord Kaelven, my mother’s prime chancellor, a crusty old male with a beak for a nose and a thin white beard, who had somehow wormed his way into my mother’s court.
I couldn’t stand the sniveling snake, and he knew it.
We were constantly at odds, neither one trusting the other.
A handful of her other most trusted advisors were also gathered, their voices clashing like blades as they continued to try to deconstruct how our court’s most recent planned attack against Yulreth on Winter Solstice a week ago had failed.
“The approach from the south was carefully strategized!” Lord Kaelven’s voice carried above the rest as he slammed a fist against the table.
The surface vibrated slightly under the impact, a ripple of tension echoing through the room.
His neck strained, skin flushing red, as if the collar of his black tunic was too tight.
The heat of his anger pinked his gaunt cheeks, though his thin lips remained pale.
“The shields were down. King Claus and the Crimson Guard were miles from the border, yet they were able to not only re-erect the protective barriers right before our army pushed through, but they redirected their forces to the southlands. It’s almost as if someone had tipped them off. ”
My spine snapped to attention at the abrupt turn of the conversation.
My shadow keeper had informed me that the chancellor had stirred up rumors of a potential mole amongst the council members, though no one had seemed brave enough to bring it up to my mother before today’s convening.
I’d hoped that meant he would drop the matter due to lack of support.
Clearly, I’d been wrong.
My mother stopped tapping her nails on the table as she considered his words for a few long breaths, her silence as imposing as the room itself.
The Frost Queen embodied regality and menace in equal measure.
Her snow-white hair sat coiled atop her head like ribbons of light, encircled by a crown encrusted in sapphires and needle-sharp diamonds that resembled deadly icicles.
Her floor-length, deep-sea-colored silk gown was embroidered with silver thread woven along the fabric like freshly fallen snowflakes. The threads reflected light as she leaned forward, each movement enhancing the illusion of narrow rivers of liquid platinum dancing across her body.
The chiseled lines of her features cast brutal angles across her face.
Her ability to keep her expressions schooled into complete stillness was enough to send shivers scurrying down the spines of the most powerful males in our court.
Even my father had known to be wary of his wife when she looked as calm as a pristine lake.
Her piercing violet gaze latched onto Lord Kaelven’s black eyes, narrowing to slits that could slice through flesh.
“Are you suggesting,” she said, her tone cautious, calculated, “that someone within this court has betrayed me?”
The prime chancellor did not flinch, though the room seemed to hold its breath. “Yes, Your Majesty. The quickness with which Claus moved… I see no other explanation.”