Page 74 of Frost and Death
I turn away, crumbling gracefully on the chaise, my head falling into my chest. Deities, I wish I could get a hold of Niko or Betina.
I have to try again before tonight.
I almost laugh at the irony of marrying Jerrick, someone I had considered when I believed Niko was not interested in me. But words from the decree repeat in sentences, the joining of me and Jerrick… not Niko.
I do not understand why or how my mother’s name is on a decree. Yet here I am, following through with it for fear of being separated from them in the afterlife as well as Jerrick’s promise to help me with my magic.
Dorit sits beside me, grabbing one of my hands. “Whatever happens, I will be here for you. I’ve been there—literally.”
I cackle so fast, surprised I even did.
Dorit joins in on the laughter.
I am grateful she is making light of this situation. It reminds me of a time Runa or Niko would do that for me. I am lucky to know someone who knows Jerrick.
Maybe she can give me tips on things he likes, and I can twist it to my advantage to piss him off and keep him at a distance.
“I wasn’t expecting to say this, but thank you, Dorit.” I smile.
She returns the smile, my chest constricting from her pure kindness. “You are most welcome, Your Majesty.”
I squeeze her hand, hating the formality used. “Call me Tove.”
Dorit inclines her head. “It’s an honor, Tove.”
15
This is a First
Holding Mother’s mirror, I run my hand over it in three circles, projecting my reflection to my chambers. The image ripples and glows as my old room comes into view.
My heart remains hopeful, taking what could be my last chance of seeing Betina or Niko before Dorit returns in a few hours to help me get ready for the ceremony tonight.
“Niko? Betina?” I speak into the mirror, only met with silence.
I grip the stem of Mother’s mirror tighter, trying for their names again, once more met with nothing. Irritation swims over my features, and I go to sever the connection but halt when a door opens on the other end, a voice calling for me.
“Hello?” the smooth, baritone voice asks.
I whimper, weeping through pure joy. “Is that you, Niko?”
Footsteps sound, and the image of my chamber is filled by Niko’s loving gaze.
“Tove! Sweet fucking Makers, you’re alive!” He holds the sides of the mirror.
I croak out a sob, unable to stop myself from touching his reflection. Wishing he was near, I bring my forehead to the mirror.
“Tove, the arrow—” His eyes turn from relief to tortured, filled with tears that are pleading and remorseful.
I lift a hand to stop him, shaking my head as my own tears fall. I don’t want to think about that damned arrow. I just want to be here with him.
“I’m okay, Niko.”
He swallows thickly as a single tear cascades down his cheek.
Taking in his appearance, his amber eyes are dim, riddled with bags, and his hair is disheveled while his face shows signs of a beard.
“When Betina told me you had your mirror with you, I thought you might try to reach out. I’ve been worried sick, thinking the worst—” He pauses, looking around my profile and noting my new surroundings. “Where are you?”
