Page 155 of Frost and Death
The cold, solid stone mixed with the wood of the threshold anchors me as he whispers, “Frostbite.”
I slouch, exhausted, as Jerrick grips the sides of my face, angling it up to his while his thumbs seek to dry away each tear on my soaked cheeks.
Blinking away the tears, I focus on his softened expression, and when our eyes meet, the tenderness he offers cripples me more.
There is a temptation to ask him to use his gifts to make me feel something,anythingother than this guilt and grief, but the courage never comes.
Instead, he curves his body over mine, the pale blue irises scanning my face.
“I am amonster.”
I am a liar, a murderer, a betrayer—and a wicked,wretchedSnow Queen.
Jerrick’s features furrow. “No, you are not a monster.”
I shake my head, denying his claims. “I’ve hurt so many people. Isn’t that what monsters do?”
Jerrick’s lips thin, and he blinks slowly.
He sees the truth in my statement, though he does not know just how much Niko and I intended to hurt people—to hurt him.
I don’t want to be tied to the name Snow Queen, yet I have been preparing this entire time for Niko’s fight, which I never wanted and need to stop.
“Monsters do hurt people,” Jerrick says, confirming my thoughts. “But monsters do not care, Frostbite. You do.” He rests his head against mine.
I pinch my eyes closed at his statement.
I’ve never wanted to hurt anyone and am desperate to ensure it will not happen here in Palaena.
My lips tremble, and disbelief squeezes my chest that I thought this man to be a monster.
More tears fall as I shake my head, unworthy of Jerrick’s kind words.
“I know how this grief feels. I’ve been where you are,” he says, voice quiet.
My stomach hollows out, realizing the depth of his words.
The same day he killed his father was… the same day my mother died…
The same day I killed my sister.
I stare deeply into his eyes, seeing the vulnerable admission for what it is.
We both inherited these gifts—thesecursessimultaneously. And yet here he is, well-trained in his power, knowledgeable, and aware.
He does not show any signs of his grief like I do. Instead, he has spent his entire time trying to manage himself, his kingdom, his magic, and his curse.
How does it not swallow him whole? How did he get past doing what he did?
“H-How do you do it? How did you find your happy again?”
My voice strains as the one thing I have wished for these last five years is laid bare to someone who has everything together.
“I have not found my happy,” Jerrick admits.
My hopeful heart is crushed, but my soul calls to Jerrick again. “How did you heal?”
Jerrick sees me—hasalwaysseen me—and has never once backed down.
