Page 49 of The Artist
Freya thought about it and answered with a soft voice, “It’s hard to say. I’m not sure how large the snow cave was. Its size would determine the amount of oxygen you had available. Every person is different, and it would all depend on your layers of fat, your strength, and whether or not you had any alcohol in your bloodstream.”
“I didn’t.”
“Which was good, because alcohol causes vasodilation.”
I sighed. “You always use such difficult words!”
“It just means the opening of blood vessels that causes your body to cool down.”
I drank some more of the tea and gave Freya a small smile. “I’m so grateful that they didn’t give up on me. Your brother, Indiana, and Mason were brave to come and save me.”
“Brave is in their blood.” Freya rose from the bed. “How about some breakfast? You must be starving.”
We walked to the kitchen, where she made me pancakes while answering my questions.
“When did you know that I’d survived?”
“Once you were in the drone, Thor contacted me and Aubri. You should have heard the loud cheers in the house. We were all gathered in the living room. Some were biting their nails while others were crying as we waited for news.”
I sat on a bar stool with my elbows on the countertop. “Who cried?”
“Celeste and the Motlanders. Aubri and I refused to give up hope, but everyone else seemed to believe Victor and Simon’s words that there was no chance you could have survived.”
“How did they react?”
“Simon and Victor?”
“Yes.”
“They were pale, quiet, and solemn. Everyone had a different reaction, but when the call came that you were alive, we collectively screamed with joy.” Freya placed the last pancake on top of the small stack she had made. With the plate in her hands, she walked around the counter and sat it down before giving me a hug. “I’m so happy you’re here, Belle.”
“Me too.” I hugged her back before we pulled apart. The pancakes smelled delicious, so I soaked one with syrup and cut into my food.
Freya watched me eat. “We were supposed to discuss our visions for a shared world tonight, but the Motlanders suggested that we push that into tomorrow. Instead they want to focus on a collective group session to reflect on the trauma of yesterday. They say it’s healthy to talk about it instead of moving on like nothing happened.”
I chewed on my pancake and made a disgruntled sound before swallowing. “Do we have to?”
Freya was wearing dark pants and a white knitted sweater with sleeves that were too long and covered her hands. Pushing the sleeves up, she asked, “You don’t want to talk about it?”
“I feel like I already did, with you. I don’t need for there to be a group discussion.”
“Hmm, well, I would think they would respect that, but who knows? Motlanders tend to think they know what’s best for everyone.”
“Isn’t it hard for you? I mean with your mother being a Motlander and your father a Northlander, you have a bit of both in you.”
“True, but since I grew up in the Northlands, I don’t feel like a Motlander. Don’t get me wrong. I admire my mother, but I think of her as an exception. She’s kind and gentle on most days, but I’ve seen her stand her ground with my father. He sometimes jokes that she used to feel horrified when people cursed around her. At least she got over that, although she still doesn’t like it when Thor and I use bad language. My mom would tell you that she has adapted well to her environment, but to be honest, I doubt she’ll ever give up on trying to influence my father to see things her way.”
Reaching across the countertop, I touched her wrist. “It’s good to have some alone time with you. We haven’t had much time to talk in private.”
With a warm smile, Freya squeezed my hand before letting go. “I know.”
“So, what have you been up to? Is your father still pushing you to marry?”
“Yes! But my mother keeps reminding him how he hated it when his own father pushed him to marry and that if he had married young, my mom and dad wouldn’t be together.”
“But is there someone you like?”
Freya sat down next to me. After brushing her brown hair back, she rested her elbows on the counter. “I wish, but men of the Northlands are a bit…” She thought about it. “I mean they are wonderful in so many ways, but it’s like something is missing.”
