Page 11 of Gifted to the Frost King

Despite the grandeur, the castle has a distinct look of disarray. Frost licks over exposed cracks in the wall. Most of the furniture is covered with sheets or removed from the walls, leaving behind old nails and some wires.

We keep traveling deeper within the castle until Glimmer stops me outside two massive double doors. Like all the others, a large snowflake has been carved and backfilled with silver on each one. Glimmer drops my finger and flies up in front of my face.

Her glowing eyes are serious.

“There isn’t much time,” she whispers. “Your freedom—all of our freedom—hinges on the King.”

I lick over my dry lips.

“And he can’t just let me go. What happens if I try to leave?”

Glimmer shakes her head. “The magic would stop you.”

I roll my eyes. “Great. Well then, I better get started on figuring out…whatever it is you want me to figure out.”

The snow fairy nods, deepening her color.

“Nothing is what it seems.”

“You mentioned that already.”

Glimmer purses her lips before buzzing up to my ear. I feel her soft hands hold onto my hair.

“Find the secrets hidden within the past. If you do, all this shall pass.”

I pull back silently and arch a brow.

“Did you just rhyme past with pass?”

Glimmer gives me a grin before beginning to shimmer. In a moment, she is nothing more than a whisper of sparkling, blue fairy dust. With a deep sigh, I turn back towards the door. I have no idea what will await me on the other side.

All I can hope for is figuring out what’s happening before it’s too late.

8

THE FROST KING

She sits stiffly at the end of the table.

She does not speak a word. He watches her through the eyes of the beast. Her color has returned—the bath has restored her glow and brought a shine to her hair. The dress molds to her body, the same one he had glimpsed when?—

He swallows down a snarl, refusing to give the memory any purchase in his head.

They have not spoken a word to each other. From the moment she arrived in the dining hall, looking like a vision from his sweetest dreams, tense silence surrounded them. However, the beast does not dream or understand the need for this farce. It is a pointless waste of time.

He should be preparing, not having a tense dinner with someone he never should’ve taken.

“Fool,” a voice snarls from deep inside him. “Let me out before you ruin everything.”

This voice is familiar—it makes his hackles lower.

“You remember me,” it says. “Remember who you are. It is not too late. There is still time.”

The beast feels warm. Warm enough to let the exhaustion of keeping up his icy walls dissipate. He doesn’t have it in him to fight right now. Not when the sweet release of a nap beckons him into the darkness.

Yes, he will rest now and make preparations later.

“Very good old friend,” the voice praises.

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