Page 70 of A Court of Fire and Frost

Traditional human weapons like guns are obviously out of the question since most contain iron. Even if we could handle them safely, there's nowhere to obtain them nearby.

The first few days after our trip to the Everything-Mart, we just focused on having himnotmelt all the weapons I created for him so he could practice.

After the third straight time he had melted the ice daggers I had magicked for him, we had sat down on a log to eat some chocolate chip cookies together. He had laughed when he found out my chocolate weakness, saying it was entirely unexpected.

“Your fire is amazing, Nathan. Truly, it’s incredible. I grew up surrounded by snow and ice, and seeing it brings me joy.”

He had grinned at my confession, showing off by shaping a rose out of flame and handing it to me, bowing. “It’s an honor to be the bringer of joy for you, lady.”

My lips had tilted up in response, accepting the rose. “And your fire is useful.”

He nodded, running a hand through his hair as a look of concern crossed his face. “I sense a ‘but’ coming.”

Sighing, I slumped against him. “You’re right. How do you do that?”

He tickled my nose, making me smile. “It only seems to work with you, darling.”

Leaning my head against his shoulder, I grabbed his hand. “But Nathan, those Fae are trained killers." I sighed, rubbing my shoulders. "You have to be able to get close enough for your fire to make a difference."

"I know, Elva," he had said, as tiny icicles had hung off his eyelashes. I leaned up, kissing them away, before making him another weapon.

“I appreciate it,” I said, handing him the sword. “Let’s go again.”

Again.

This is the theme of our lives right now. Every day, we wake up, hunt as birds or eat some of the carefully rationed food we had stolen before going back to the clearing to train.

He's trying really hard, and I can't help but feel admiration for him.

As far as I can remember, no one ever went out of their way for me before. Even as a youngling, one of the first lessons I was taught was that you need to look after yourself. But… He’s leaving everything behind to look after and care for me.

This is so far out of his comfort zone, but as he keeps reminding me, he won't leave me. It's hard for me to wrap my head around. No matter how often Nathan reminds me he isn’t leaving, I still have nightmares about waking up and finding him gone.

It’s too good to be true.

Growing up, I thought myself unloveable.

It wasn’t a hard conclusion to come by, as my mother saw me as her heir, not as a Fae needing nurturing. She taught me early on that emotions are dangerous and not suitable for the Princess of the Winter Court.

“You can’t rely on feelings, Elva. You must be firm, unwavering, as you lead this country.” My mother is leaning against the roaring fireplace in a pale blue pantsuit that hugs her curves. Her black hair is braided tightly down her back, showing off her strong cheekbones as she watches me closely.

My gaze is locked on my mother’s hands. My stomach clenches as I stare at the bright red hair streaming down her hands. The pale face of my only doll stares at me, her unmoving green eyes silently pleading for me to help.

I can see my reflection in a mirror on the wall. My eyes widen as I stand before her, running my hands down my arms. My thin, white flowy nightgown is not warding off the chill of the evening. Even for Winter Fae, tonight is cold.

“But Momma,” I say, my childish voice sounding frail, even to my ears, “Helena gave me Rubella. She said that it’s a toy and—"

My mother waves her hand in the air, coating the room in frost. I stop speaking instantly, my hands trembling slightly as I take in her steely gaze.

“You don’t needtoys, Elva. You have a duty to your country and your people. What are you?”

She pushes herself off the wall, coming to tower over me. I cower, though I hate myself for it.

“I-I...” I stammer, taking a step back.

“What are you?” She growls at me as the temperature in the room drops even further. I fight to keep still despite the cold.

“I am the princess, and emotions are beneath me,” I repeat the words from memory, having heard them repeatedly as I grew up.

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