Chapter 1 #4
Jack was not seated in his designated spot next to his mother, and my heart sank, though I made sure not to show it.
I’d half expected he’d at least come out of his cave for this meeting.
All this was making me even more unsettled.
The queen’s violet gaze roamed over me with confusion.
Seemed she’d expected me to arrive with her son.
Apparently, we’d both just experienced the same disappointment, though hers spread like ice-fire throughout the room.
An enormous marble hearth raged, yet the cold fury seeping from her bit at my skin even through my cloak.
A part of me thought about apologizing for Jack’s absence, but I quickly changed my mind. I might’ve been the newly appointed captain of the guard and his closest friend, but I wasn’t his keeper. Let him clean up his own mess. I bowed my head. “Your Majesty.”
A glower was her only reply.
Handing my cloak to one of the court staff, I ambled toward the fireplace when the doors to the War Room swung open and in strolled the Son of Ice himself, knocking the breath from all our lungs.
I took in a short gasp, relief raking through me, though my heart fluttered inside my chest like a butterfly looking for escape. Seeing him after days of his absence felt like I hadn’t seen him in years.
Though I still wanted to smack him upside the head for torturing me for the past seven days, now that irritation was simmering. Instead, that irritation was replaced with the unrelenting desire to run to him and wrap my arms around his neck, grateful the bastard was okay.
He kept his gaze down as he strolled in, his presence filling the room like one of Skadgard’s winter storms, brutal yet arrestingly beautiful.
His six-foot-four frame demanded attention while his muscles moved with the calculated grace of a wild cat prowling through its territory, every step measured and deliberate.
His broad shoulders were squared back beneath his fitted cobalt velvet tunic, enhancing the muscled sculpt of his chest and arms.
Though softened by silver, feather-like short hair that barely brushed the base of his neck, his chiseled face was a mask of stone, every angle sharp enough to carve through granite, his expression one of regal indifference, even though as usual, he’d forgone his crown.
He didn’t need it to command respect, and he didn’t wear it because he found crowns pompous and pretentious. And then there were his eyes…
When he finally raised his gaze, the room quieted. There was no missing the intensity of their crushing blue color, so vivid yet steely they seemed capable of reducing anyone to shards of ice should he decide to wield the magic in his veins.
He didn’t rush to his seat, the sound of his black boots against the marble floor echoing through the chamber with quiet authority. Every gaze in the room was drawn to him, some filled with disdain, others with fear.
But I knew better. Beneath his typical veneer of control and power was a vulnerability and tenderness few ever witnessed.
But now there was something else skimming below his cool exterior, beneath that brilliant, moon-pale skin.
There was a shadow about him, a heaviness on his shoulders that he couldn’t quite hide, something I’d never seen before.
His eyes, for all their brilliance, swirled with a chaos I couldn’t place, as if a brewing tempest was readying to erupt.
His hands remained loose at his sides, fingers flexing slightly, like a musician preparing to strike the first note of a powerful symphony. I ached to know what could possibly be coiled around him this tightly, as if an avalanche loomed over him, waiting for the slightest tremor to break free.
He finally glanced at me, and my spine went taut like the string of a violin.
For a fleeting moment, the facade dropped, his eyes softening.
Every royal pretense fell away, and all that remained was the friend I’d known practically my whole life.
There was no need for him to say anything, because his expression said it all as unspoken words passed between us—an apology laden with sadness.
My heart squeezed, the weight of his gaze and whatever it carried leaving me breathless.
But there wasn’t time to explore the silent language we’d perfected over the years as the queen interrupted our exchange.
“How kind of you to finally grace us with your presence,” she said, her tone clipped yet restrained, completely controlled even in her fury.
Jack dipped his head slightly, the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. “My sincere apologies, Mother.”
His voice was smooth, sensuous. He’d not come intending to spar with his mother in front of her court, but he wasn’t going to offer any explanations for his absence, either. That only deepened the ache in my chest. I’d wanted answers. Needed them.
The air in the room seemed to shift as he took his seat, every advisor stealing wary glances at the prince. The queen resumed speaking, but her words barely registered. My thoughts were on Jack, the shadows in his eyes, and the questions that clawed at my mind.
I needed to get to the bottom of it, even if my gut was trying to warn me that whatever had happened to Jack in that storm would shatter me.