Page 101 of Frost and Death
Did Palaena have a previous monarch with abilities like mine? Is that why we are here?
I remain quiet, fighting through the anger and resentment festering in my chest, hating how I need him more than he needs me.
When Jerrick adds the seventh book to the stack I carry, I stumble and catch myself.
“Any more books and I might collapse,” I grumble.
“Think of it as strength training, then.” Jerrick exhales and waves off my remark.
I want to fight his logic, but again, deep down, he is right. I could gain a little more muscle on my limbs.
He drags me along to ledgers and more books.
Tilting my head, I examine the titles I carry, but I trip and fall forward.
Books explode as I brace for impact, and I tumble into Jerrick. I cling to his tunic while my already sore feet tangle around each other as books drop on top of them.
“Fuck!” I yelp in pain, hopping.
Jerrick chuckles as I turn red, fumbling through my toe-piercing pain.
I tighten my grip on his tunic as I steady myself, my toes curling in my boots. Sweet Makers, that fucking hurt.
Jerrick helps me upright. “Are you alright?” He assesses me and the pile of books I dropped, then squats, picking up each one.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to drop them, I was trying to—” I stop and watch him in silence, guilt eating at me.
I bend down to help with the mess I made.
With the books gathered, we stand, and I tilt my head up to him.
His height seems worse in these damned boots, my short stature making my neck extend all the way back to meet his gaze.
My nose pinches a little at the tinge of sweat in the air, and my pulse quickens at being his sole focus.
His chest is close to mine, and the inkling I have to touch him again has me wiggling my fingers.
I turn toward the stacks of parchments, ledgers, and books, knowing the aroma of parchment will stifle Jerrick’s scent.
He passes by, and I hate that my gaze tracks him.
Jerrick approaches the soft chairs, first placing the books in one and moving a short wooden table to rest between the lounge area. He separates them into various stacks, gesturing for me to sit.
I hesitate momentarily, doing as he says, loathing how I have to wait for his next move.
Jerrick smacks down the last book on its stack. “Here we have Palaena’s ledgers on glamour magic and some paperwork and correspondence between your mother and my father.” He points to each of the piles.
My brows furrow in confusion.
Jerrick’s mention of my mother throws my intentions for the day off course. I feel underprepared and exposed, yet again, in his presence. And that pisses me off.
“Wait, why are we looking into glamour magic and letters between my mother and your father? I thought you said we were starting small for my magic?”
Jerrick sits in the other lounge chair, propping one of his boots on the corner of the short wooden table. “We will get to that. But you have to earn the right first.”
I clench my fists on the armchair as I lean forward, the ability to stifle my rage fleeting the more I’m around this man.
“Andhowam I supposed to earn that right?” I demand, irritation thick in my voice.
