Page 242 of Frost and Death
Jerrick carries me from his room, guiding us down the hall and the staircase leading to the other levels of the castle.
When we reach the ground level, I study him with anxiety as he guides us to the throne room. Dark thoughts crawl to the forefront of my mind, and I can’t help but think this is all too good to be true.
Maybe Jerrick isn’t in love with me and is taking me to a group of people to kill me on the spot for my part in the catastrophe.
My grip on his tunic tightens with each step he takes.
The guards are armed at both sides of the throne room, smiling at us as the doors open, and I brace myself for the crowd, an executioner, something.
“Are you alright?” Jerrick asks when a whoosh of breath leaves me at the very empty room in front of me.
“I-I…” I chuckle. “I thought you were taking me to my death.”
Jerrick rubs the underpart of my knee in his hold. “We might need to work on removing that fear of me killing you,” he jokes, kissing my brow gently and easing me down.
I look at a frozen section of the throne room in confusion. “Where is…”
“Nikolaj?” he finishes my question, guiding me closer to the frozen area. “I hacked his frozen carcass out with my sword and a few other weapons, used my magic to make sure there was no chance of him living, and got others to help cut him down and carry him away to burn his body.”
Nikolaj and I did the same with Runa.
I wanted to clear the ice from her frozen state, and I’d tried for months before Nikolaj convinced me to give her peace and remove her body from any prying eyes. The memory returns of us having to make a pyre. Nikolaj constantly retreated into the woods to ensure we had enough fuel to feed the fire.
The stinging sensation has me rubbing my chest.
I try to block Nikolaj from my thoughts, crafting Runa’s features instead. When her image runs to the forefront of my mind, I can’t help but feel a surge of love flicker at her memory.
I try not to think too much at the odd sensation, directing my attention to where I had frozen Nikolaj.
The floor is cracked and broken into various chunks, some from the brunt force of removing a block of ice atop it and some from the pressure of frost and ice looming from this one spot.
I can’t help but stare at the bloodstains across the ice.My blood.
Jerrick catches my line of sight. “Have you tried calling forth your magic since you woke?” he asks carefully.
I shake my head and look up at him. “No.” I had not even thought about my magic.
He lifts my hand to his lips, kissing it softly. “I have a theory I would like to try. Do you think you could call your magic?”
“I can try,” I reply, closing my eyes, trying to find my concentration.
Jerrick touches my upper arm encouragingly before leaning in. “I can always use my magic to help speed it along,” he teases, earning a peek from my right eye.
“Already wanting to kiss me again?” I taunt.
Jerrick smirks, pulling me closer. “Always.”
I sigh joyfully as he draws my breath into his. I relax in his hold, trusting the heat running down my throat and skipping across my skin, reveling in the energy coming alive.
Jerrick’s magic is warm and companionable against mine as he draws it out, a small tentative spark of power within me, stretching, yawning as if it, too, was in a deep slumber. And then a familiar, loving ripple of a chilled magic perks its way up along my spine as Jerrick breaks the kiss, our eyes opening to the frost drifting across my skin.
“I don’t think I’m ever going to get over how magnificent you are,” Jerrick sighs, watching the swirls of snow flurries appear on my hands, a cold breeze of air manifesting in my palms.
I smile at the sight, appreciation and a fondness deepening for my abilities. “What is your theory?”
Jerrick eases us both to the floor, touching the frost near us. His eyes meet mine with mischief.
“Kiss me while you try to melt the frost.”
