Page 29 of Trapped with the Ice Queen

Alex paused abruptly, her fork suspended mid-air before she set it down. Her shoulders tensed almost imperceptibly, a ripple of hesitation moving through her. “After what?” she asked, though her voice suggested she already knew the answer.

Vivienne gestured vaguely toward the window. “After the storm. After we go back to…wherever it is we came from.”

Alex leaned back in her chair, her expression suddenly guarded. The shadows carved sharper angles into her face, softening only at the edges. “I haven’t thought that far ahead,” she admitted. “I guess I never do.”

Vivienne tilted her head, studying her. “That surprises me.”

Alex huffed a short, dry laugh. “Why?”

“You’re so methodical. Practical. I assumed you’d have a plan for everything.” She offered a small, teasing smile, hoping to lighten the tension. “You probably even had a plan for how to survive if I’d been useless.”

Alex’s lips twitched, not quite forming into a smile. “Not useless,” she said softly, her gaze dropping to her plate. “Just…untested.”

Vivienne felt a strange pang at the word, both a recognition of its truth and a silent rejection of it. She let the moment stretch, their quiet breaths filling the space between them, before daring to press further.

“And now?” she asked. Her voice was gentler now, almost hesitant. “Do you still think of me that way? Untested.”

Alex’s eyes flicked up to meethers, their depths unreadable. For a moment, it seemed she might deflect again, but then she exhaled, the weight of her thoughts spilling into the space between them.

“No,” she said. Her voice was low, almost a whisper, but firm. “I don’t.”

Vivienne felt her chest tighten, not with anxiety but with a tender ache. She leaned forward slightly, resting her elbows on the table.

“Can I ask you something else?” she said.

Alex gave a small nod, her expression open but wary.

“What do you want for yourself?” Vivienne’s words were soft, almost tentative. “Not just what you think you’re supposed to do or what you need to get by. But what you really want.”

Alex seemed taken aback, her brow furrowing as she stared down at her plate. She rubbed the back of her neck and let out a slow breath.

“I don’t know,” she said eventually. Her tone wasn’t dismissive; it was honest, tinged with the faintest thread of regret. “I’ve spent so long just…getting through. Surviving. Wanting something more feels”—she paused, searching for the right word—“risky.”

Vivienne nodded, understanding all too well. She wrapped her hands around her mug of cider, letting its warmth seep into her palms as she weighed her next words carefully.

“Risky how?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Alex looked up, her eyes steady in a way that made Vivienne’s breath hitch. “Because if you let yourself want something,” Alex said slowly, “you have to be ready to lose it.”

The honesty of the statement, the quiet resignation behind it, struck something deep in Vivienne. She looked away for a moment, blinking against the sudden hot sting of tears. When she turned back, her voice was steadier, though her heart was anything but.

“I know what you mean,” she said. “For a long time, I didn’t let myself want much either. I thought if I could just be perfect, if I could keep everything under control, then maybe it wouldn’t hurt so much when I lost it.”

Alex’s gaze softened, a flickerof understanding passing between them. “Did it work?” she asked quietly.

Vivienne shook her head, a wry smile tugging at her lips. “Not even a little.”

They both laughed, the sound low and intimate in the small space. For the first time that evening, the weight of their fears seemed to lift, leaving only the quiet warmth of their shared presence.

“Maybe it’s not about avoiding the hurt,” Alex said after a moment, her voice thoughtful. “Maybe it’s about finding something worth the risk.” Alex looked up at her, catching her eyes. “Or someone.”

Vivienne looked at her, studying her face, the flickering candlelight catching in her eyes. The words settled in her chest like a seed, fragile but full of possibility.

“Maybe,” she said softly. And for the first time in as long as she could remember, she allowed herself to hope.

The fire burned low, its embers casting a dim orange glow over the room. Outside, the storm had calmed to a gentle snowfall, thehowling wind now a distant memory. The cabin was quiet, save for the crackle of the logs and the soft creak of the wooden floor as Alex stepped hesitantly toward the bed.

Vivienne sat on the edge of the mattress, the quilt bunched at her side. She’d been waiting, watching Alex with a mixture of anticipation and unease. She replayed their earlier conversation, looking for clues. She could see it in Alex’s posture that she, too, was deep in thought, the slight tension in her shoulders, the way her hands lingered by her sides as though unsure where they belonged.

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