Page 31 of Jilted By Jack Frost

My heart pounds as the pieces click into place. This isn’t just some boy, this is Jack. All this time, I thought he had been human before making his bargain with Winter. But this... this changes everything. He wasn’t some mortal who traded his humanity—he was born into this. Born to be shaped into Winter’s perfect weapon, with a father determined to strip away every trace of warmth and compassion.

No wonder he’s so fucked up about emotions.The realization hits me like a punch to the gut. Jack never had a chance to be normal. His own father systematically tried to destroy his humanity from birth.

Bile rises in my throat as my mind conjures images of a small boy, isolated and afraid, being molded into something cold and distant. Something inhuman. My knuckles turn white as I grip the journal tighter, rage and heartbreak warring inside me.

This must be Jack’s father’s journal. I flip through more pages, scanning entries about magical experiments and observations of a young Jack.

The boy shows too much compassion. Today, he created butterflies of ice to amuse the servant children. Such frivolity cannot be allowed to continue. Winter must be absolute. Pure.

“Fuck,” I whisper, sinking to the floor. The next entry makes my blood run cold:

I’ve consulted the ancient texts. There is a way to purge the warmth from his nature. The spell requires sacrifice, but for the good of the realm, I will do what must be done.

The following pages detail a ritual. Not to protect the realm as the prophecy claims, but to strip Jack of his human mother’s influence—to make him purely winter. My fingers shake as I read the final entry:

The deed is done. My son’s heart is properly frozen now. When he takes the throne, he will rule as winter should—without mercy or weakness. I’ve ensured any prophecy of a mate will be seen as a threat, not salvation. The realm will remain as I decree—eternally cold.

I slam the journal shut, my mind racing. The interpretation of the prophecy wasn’t a warning about me destroying the realm. It was about undoing Jack’s father’s magical manipulation. About restoring balance.

This fucking asshole manipulated his own son.The realization hits me like a punch to the gut. Everything Jack believes about himself, about mates, about ruling—it’s all based on his father’s twisted ideas.

Footsteps echo in the corridor outside. I quickly shove the journal into my pocket, my heart thundering against my ribs. I need time to process this, to figure out how to help Jack seethe truth.

I find Cora in the kitchen, kneading bread dough with practiced movements. She spots me hovering in the doorway and waves me over with flour-covered hands.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” She gestures to a stool near the counter.

“Just doing some light reading.” I pat the journal hidden in my pocket. “Hey, can I ask you something? How long have you worked here?”

“Oh, centuries.” She continues working the dough, her movements rhythmic and soothing. “Why do you ask?”

“I was reading about something called the Year Without Summer. 1816?”

Her hands still. “Dark times. The mortal realm suffered terribly that year.”

“What happened?”

“It was shortly before His Majesty took the throne.” She glances around before lowering her voice. “The king was... struggling. His power manifested in ways we’d never seen before. The cold reached beyond our realm, affecting your world.”

My stomach churns. “You mean Jack caused a global winter?”

“Not intentionally.” She shapes the dough into a loaf. “He was dealing with tremendous pressure. His father had just passed, leaving him to rule alone. The isolation, the responsibility—it was toomuch.”

Like now, I think.When he’s trying so hard to push me away.

“The crops failed that year,” I say. “People starved.”

“His Majesty never forgave himself. It’s why he’s so controlled now, so careful with his power.” She slides the loaf into a pan. “Though lately...”

“The blizzards back home.”

“They’re getting worse, aren’t they?” She wipes her hands on her apron. “Just like before.”

The implications hit me like an icy wave. Jack’s rejection of our connection isn’t just hurting us—it’s affecting both realms.

“Has anyone told him?”

“Would he listen?” Her gentle smile holds a hint of sadness. “His Majesty can be rather... stubborn about certain things.”

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