Page 156 of Frost and Death
A flicker of life gleams in his gaze. His features relax as his thumbs caress my cheeks.
He leans in, and the comfort of that should scare me, but it feels so right—so perfect.
“Accept yourself, Frostbite. Flaws and all. Only then will healing and controlling your magic get easier. And maybe then you’ll find your happy again.”
I don’t hesitate with my response. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to do that.”
He kisses my forehead, sending a twinge of warmth to spread from tenderness I don’t deserve.
Selfishly, I indulge in the heat of it, and when our eyes lock again, determination and hope shimmers in the depths of his blue eyes.
“If anyone can, it’s you.”
Jerrick’s kiss lingers as he leaves me to my thoughtsin the training arena, but really, he granted me the freedom to run through the castle.
I push my strides hard, taking the brunt of my exhaustion and emotions, stomping into the varying surfaces of stone, rug, and stairs, inching me closer to my chambers in hopes of an escape or a reprieve—anything to prevent me from feeling anymore.
If anyone can, it’s you.
I want to banish the sentence from my mind. Anything to remove the image of his eyes, his kindness, his touch. My deepest secret confessed to a man who I believed to be my enemy yet never was.
The guilt of lying to Jerrick has been eating me alive this entire time. I’ve been pretending to help break his curse, using it for my own personal gain to learn about my magic and to stall him while preparing Axidoria for battle.
What have I done?
I want to slap myself in reprimand, hating how my mind and body are at war with one another when it comes to this man. My heart skips from the heat on my brow, forcing me to count the stairs below me.
Don’t trip, Tove.
I bite my lip in concentration, almost tripping on the final step, grabbing the wall for balance. I hunch into myself, exhaustion taking over. But I fight through it, catching my breath to push on.
Someone coughs at the end of the hallway, and I shoot upright when the shadows reveal Jonas coming from my chambers. “Are you alright?” he asks, concern raising his brow.
I don’t know how to answer, and the words I try to formulate into a full sentence won’t make any sense. Heaving, I throw my hands and head up in defeat. It’s pointless anyway.
I sulk down the hall to him and to my chambers, and he follows as I open the door, gesturing for him to enter.
“What is it?” he asks again.
“Just get inside,” I command, my voice harsher than I intended.
He doesn’t react, and I trail him, pausing to close the door.
Spinning to my bed, I wave toward the lounge chair for Jonas to sit and make himself comfortable as I flop onto the bed. I have not a care for the world as I roll, grab a pillow to hold over my face, and scream.
My screams are loud but muffled, and I continue until the scratchiness of my throat forces them to halt. Even then, I take my time before removing the pillow, throwing it off to the side and staring up into the canopy of my bed.
“Training bad, huh?” Jonas asks.
I humph a reply, exaggerating the sigh to convey more than what I can vocalize right now.
Jonas hums as we sit in the silence while I try to get over the ringing in my ears caused by my screams. One thing I have come to admire about Jonas is his patience.
Every time I’ve met with him, he has been observant and attentive, offering me a chance to voice my concerns and always finding a compromise. He’s been like that outside of the meetings, too, recognizing everyone’s body language and moods, while navigating a way to ease any tension in a room.
But the silence he offers now…
I am not sure if it is helping or making me feel worse.
