Page 22 of The Enchanted Frost

“Of course not.” He hastily dismissed the notion, but though he didn't shiver again, I couldn't help but notice him draw closer to me, as if instinctively seeking warmth from our proximity. His breath became visible in the icy air, a puff of mist that seemed almost out of place. Though as the King of Winter, the elements shouldn’t affect him, his strained tone was less than convincing.

As we walked back to the ice castle, an unsettling feeling gnawed at me, a sense that something fundamental had shifted—not just in the landscape around us, but within Frost himself. I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. His expression remained as stoic as ever, but there was a softness to his features that I was certain hadn’t been there before. His breath, visible in the chilly air, contrasted withthe sharp angles of his face, once as cold and unyielding as the ice he commanded, now less severe, almost...human.

I hugged my arms around myself, more as a subconscious shield from my growing apprehension than to ward off the cold. But even that was different now. The icy chill that once clung to me whenever I was near him had lessened, replaced by a gentler, more bearable sensation—not exactly warmth, but far from the bone-deep freeze I’d come to associate with him, as if his presence had lost some of its icy bite.

The surrounding landscape also showed signs of change. The snow beneath our feet that had once crunched with the crispness of untouched ice now felt slightly slushy, as though on the verge of melting. My shoes sank into it, the dampness seeping through reminding me of my last night before entering this realm when my inadequate footwear had allowed the wet snow to submerge my feet, chilling them to the bone. Now, patches of exposed earth peeked through the thinning snow, a jarring contrast to the flawless winter landscape I had first encountered upon my arrival.

I watched as a few delicate snowflakes drifted down from the sky, only to dissolve before they touched the ground, not so much melting as simply disintegrating. Frost had conjured these elements effortlessly before, but now they seemed less vibrant, as if fading away with approaching spring. Though his expression remained impassive, I detected a hint of confusion as he surveyed his altered realm, unspoken worry tightening his eyes.

We continued in silence, the only sounds our squelching footsteps against the snow and the distant drip of melting icicles. Frost walked slightly ahead, as if subconsciously trying to distance himself from my body heat, his normally graceful steps now slower, more deliberate. I could see the faintest hints of fatigue in the way his shoulders slumpedslightly, as if the effort of maintaining his wintry domain was wearing on him.

Was it possible that our time together in the cavern and the warmth we’d shared had done this? Could the simple act of holding each other during the storm have somehow diminished his power? My heart ached at the thought, but even as I worried for him, I couldn’t help but celebrate this strange connection growing between us, as if the more human he became, the more my own indiscernible feelings for him deepened.

When the towering spires of his ice castle finally came into view, I felt a pang of unease. The structure, once a masterpiece of glistening ice and sharp, crystalline edges, seemed softer, almost as if it were starting to thaw. The walls, which had always shone with a blinding brilliance, now looked duller, their surfaces marred with faint cracks that spiderwebbed across the once-flawless ice. The drawbridge lowered automatically in greeting, but creaked ominously as we passed over it.

Frost paused at the entrance, his hand resting on the door, his fingers brushing over the surface. The ice beneath his touch didn’t respond the way it once had. Instead of glowing with a frosty light, it seemed to absorb the warmth of his hand, leaving behind a faint imprint that quickly faded.

He finally glanced at me and I saw something in his eyes that made my breath catch—doubt, as if he’d lost the previous self-confidence that had accompanied him ever since our first meeting. It was a fleeting expression that faded as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by the calm, measured look I’d come to know.

Yet I couldn’t dispel the deepening sense of unease that something was wrong. “Does spring ever visit the winter realm?” I asked.

He gave his head a rigid shake. “But there is nothing toworry about. Our time together has simply distracted me from my duties. A bit of magic, and everything will be back on its proper course.” His voice hitched, as if trying to convince himself rather than me.

I frowned. Whatever had changed between us after what transpired during the storm, I felt I understood him better than before, enough to sense that he was lying. “Are you certain?”

He nodded, but the gesture was small, almost reluctant. “I’m fine,” he replied, his voice steady but lacking its usual cold detachment. “Just…tired.” He pressed his lips together, as though he regretted the admission and wished he could take it back.

Tired. The word hung between us, heavy with implications. Frost had never admitted to such a human weakness before. I reached out, my hand hovering near his, unsure if he would welcome the touch or if it would only remind him of what he appeared to be losing. But before I could graze his skin, he turned and pushed open the door, leading us inside.

The interior of the castle was just as grand and imposing as I remembered, but there was a subtle difference in the air—not only was it not as cold as before, but many of the frosty carvings decorating the snowy walls had faded. In addition, the ice sculptures that lined the halls seemed to have lost some of their definition, their edges smoother and more fluid, missing some of the intricate detail from before. Even the light filtering through the icy walls was dimmer, less vibrant…and warmer.

My mind whirled, the signs around us impossible to ignore—Frost was changing, and with it his power seemed to be waning. What did that mean for not only him, but the balance of the winter he’d always maintained?

CHAPTER 11

Frost

Istood at the edge of my domain, staring out at the vast expanse of snow and ice. The cold winds whipped around me, but they no longer offered the comfort they once had. Instead, they felt hollow, as if the very essence of my world was slipping away from me.

What was happening to me?

Panic cinched my chest, a foreign, painful feeling that I struggled to suppress, making every effort to keep my expression stoic so that Blanche wouldn’t notice. An internal battle raged within me as I found myself torn between not wanting to worry her and an unexpected longing to lean on her and seek comfort from her presence, a strange and unsettling desire when I’d managed just fine during my eternity of isolation.

For the centuries measuring my forever, my powers had been unwavering, constant in their strength, their only alteration coming with my discovery of new and innovative ways to wield winter’s might as I mastered them over time.Though my creations inevitably faded in the mortal world with the arrival of spring, that season’s reach had never extended to my realm, where winter was a perpetual presence. The cold, once an extension of myself, now felt like a burden, biting at my skin instead of invigorating me.

I’d awakened with a mix of delight and horror. Rousing to find Blanche still nestled in my arms—finding solace and warmth in my embrace—stirred a sense of joy and protectiveness that was entirely new to me. Yet the realization that I’d inadvertently fallen asleep while guarding her from the storm filled me with unease at just how far I’d lost control; while I’d enjoyed an occasional nap in the past when my work was completed and I wanted to relax, this was the first time I had ever fallen asleep unintentionally.

With every gentle rise and fall of her chest, I could feel the subtle shift within me, the softening of my power as warmth begun to seep into my very being, a force I couldn’t control no matter how hard I tried, not when that warmth was inextricably tied to her.

I willed the cold to seep back into my heart to freeze the warmth that had taken root, but I knew it was hopeless—she had become a part of me, woven into the very fabric of my existence, and no amount of ice or snow could erase that…nor did I want it to any longer. At the realization, something niggled at the back of my mind, something I should be putting together…but I couldn’t quite grasp it.

Everywhere I looked, I noticed unsettling changes. The once-transparent walls were slowly turning cloudy and smooth, as if they were beginning to erode, while the thick icicles that had once hung from the eaves now dripped steadily, forming small puddles on the floor, their echoes ominous in the grand halls. Each change served as a stark reminder that winter’s cold grip was loosening.

Closer examination revealed that the frost that hadcoated every surface of my crystalline domain was thinning. The once-pristine, icy façade of the castle was showing signs of wear and decay. Patches of ice on the pillars had melted away, leaving exposed sections I would need to repair. When I brushed my fingers against the walls, even in the places the ice remained solid the magic within pulsed faintly, a sign that the enchantment holding it all together was weakening.

Each new sign of winter’s loosening grip deepened my anxiety, as if a raging storm had formed inside me, urging me to investigate my realm and see what else was changing. But I hesitated, reluctant to leave Blanche’s side, especially after the night she’d spent in the cave during the blizzard. The thought of parting from her filled me with a dread I couldn’t quite explain.

As I prepared another makeshift meal for her of roasted fish and winter fruit, I kept glancing her way, watching as she curiously followed my movements. Even though the storm had passed, I felt a constant pull towards her, as if something would happen the moment I looked away.

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