Page 49 of Jilted By Jack Frost

“Is that mistletoe in a winter palace?”

Jack follows my gaze, his lips curving into a rare smile.

“An ancient tradition. The Norse believed mistletoe was sacred to Frigg, goddess of love. When her son Baldr was killed by a mistletoe arrow, her tears turned the berries white. She decreed it would forever be a symbol of love, not death.”

“That’s... surprisingly sweet for a winter legend.”

“There’s more.” His fingers trace along my jaw. “Winter spirits once used mistletoe to bind promises. A kiss beneath it seals intentions more surely than any oath.”

Heat floods my cheeks. “Are you saying mistletoe is like magical mistletoe?”

“All mistletoe has power. But here, in this realm...” His voice drops lower, making my body tremble. “Here it’s a bridge between warmth and cold, life and sleep, mortal and immortal.”

“So what happens if we...” I gesture vaguely upward.

Jack’s laugh rumbles through his chest. “Would you like to find out?”

Before I can answer, he cups my face in his hands. His touch is cool but not cold.

When his lips meet mine, magic sparks between us—not the raw power we wielded against Gabriel, but something softer, deeper. The mistletoe above us begins to glow with a gentle silver light.

This is what the prophecy means, I realize as Jack deepens the kiss. Not the end of winter, but the beginning of something new.

Jack pulls back just enough to rest his forehead against mine. “I can feel you,” he whispers. “Not just physically. I can feel your essence, your warmth.”

“Is that the mistletoe’s magic?”

“No.” His thumb traces my lower lip. “That’s all us. The mistletoe just... amplifies what’s already there.”

Chapter twenty-one

Jack

The weight of my crown feels different now as I hold it in my hands, studying the ice crystals that have sustained my realm for centuries. My chambers feel hollow without Violet’s warmth, though she rests just down the hall, recovering from Gabriel’s attack.

I almost lost her. My stubbornness nearly cost everything.

Rising from my desk, I gather my magic and craft a second crown from the eternal ice—this one a delicate circlet meant for Violet. Frost flowers bloom along its gentle curves, and each crystal captures light like the opalescent glow I first saw when Violet touched my sculptures.

With a final wave of my hand, I add matching frost flowers to my crown as well, letting them wind betweenthe deadly points. A reminder that even the harshest winter can harbor beauty.

My feet carry me to her door before I can second-guess myself. The guard steps aside with a respectful nod.

I pause, my knuckles hovering over the wood. “Violet?”

“Come in.” Her voice sounds tired but steady.

She’s propped up against pillows, her brown hair tousled, dark circles under her eyes from exhausting her magic. The sight of her drained and vulnerable makes my chest ache.

“I have something for you.”

“If it’s another lecture about staying in bed, save it. The nurse in me knows better than you do.”

A small smile tugs at my lips. Even injured, her fire burns bright. I move to sit on the edge of her bed; the circlet cradled in my palms.

“This is an apology. And a promise. I was wrong. About everything. The prophecy, your presence here, what I thought would destroy my kingdom.”

I trace one of the frost flowers with my finger. “You were never meant to be my downfall. You are my salvation.”

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