Frost (21 page)

I tried to go along with the other girls—since none of them seemed to realize what the announcement might have actually meant—and laugh and joke with them, but it was hard. Hard not thinking about the lesson tomorrow.

Leif would probably be "more unpleasant than usual." God help me.

The harsh buzz of the alarm clock jerked me awake. Someone's arm was in front of my face. Startled, I leaned away and the arm dropped. My arm. Apparently, I'd been flailing in my sleep.

My vision started to clear up a little, and I squinted at the clock—eight a.m.

The first day of training with Leif. Dread bloomed in my stomach as I glanced over at Charlotte. She was still completely dead to the world in spite of the alarm. Lucky.

I swung my legs over the side of the bed and forced myself to shuffle to the bathroom and get ready. My stomach gurgled. Not with hunger, but with nausea. Breakfast was out. There was no way I’d be able to keep food down. It had been years since I'd barfed out of pure terror, but I still remembered the feeling of hot and cold. The shaky hands, the rolling stomach. Not that far off from what I was feeling now.

I will
not
puke in front of Leif. Unless it's directly on his shoes.

In the shower, I washed up as quickly as I could before stepping over the edge of the tub, rubbing the mist off the mirror with the corner of my towel. What did Prince Leif see when he looked at me? I saw hair that had gone too white for my liking, bright-blue eyes full of worry. And he saw what? A threat? A usurper?

I snorted and turned away from my reflection. What the hell kind of word was that anyway? It sounded like...like someone who tested soups for a living.

Right, think enough weird thoughts and you'll distract yourself from what's about to happen. Good job, Megan
. Or did I think of myself as Amora now? It seemed everyone else did.

My head began to hurt, so I dismissed the thought and went to pick an outfit. Combing through the wardrobe, I mostly found dresses and skirts. There was no way I was going to show up wearing a skirt though. Leif would probably laugh his stupid head off. Finally, I found a drawer full of training outfits and picked a tank top and a pair of black, wide-legged pants made of light cotton. I tied my hair up, took a deep breath, and stepped out into the hall, trying to remember where the training room was.

The corridor was nearly empty this early in the morning, and the sneakers I'd found in the wardrobe made little tapping sounds on the ice floors. It sounded loud in the stillness.

I hesitated when the passage in front of me split. Even though I was petrified at the thought of seeing Leif again, I was almost relieved when I rounded the corner and the hallway ended with the big double doors of the training room. The girls had told me how to get there before they'd left last night, but I didn't trust my sense of direction.

The sound of battle washed over me as the doors creaked open. There were three people in a ring at the center. A huge blond boy with an overabundance of freckles was fighting two smaller jotun.

An archery range lined the back wall, red bullseyes painted on white targets. The recruits were there, and I picked out Elliot's muscular frame right next to a woman with dirty-blond hair. When she turned and lined her bow along her cheek, it revealed a jagged scar. Karina.

She released the arrow smoothly and it hit dead center on the target. Karina whirled around and punched Elliot on the arm, a rare smile lighting her face.

Not sure I wanted them seeing me, I turned away.

Most of the racket came from a sword lesson taking place in the far corner. The instructor, a woman with straw-colored hair and a severe jawline, shouted commands, holding her sword up a different way each time. There were only about ten students, each of them copying her movements in unison.

These jotun were much smaller. Shorter than any of the others and very slight. Their features were different too. More rounded, slightly darker.

Jotun children, I guessed. I stared at them, fascinated.

An entire kingdom and there were only ten children? No wonder the queen was desperate enough to start experimenting with humans.

"Megan!" Amy pushed past the other recruits, jogging across the training floor toward me, her face bright red from exertion.

The other girls followed at a more sedate pace.

"All ready for your training? The recruits are just finishing."

I nodded.

Prince Leif walked just behind them, his face carefully blank. "You girls run along. It's Amora's turn now." There was venom in his voice when he said the name, and I suppressed a shudder.

The girls filed out, and Becca, the last one out the door, shot me a sympathetic look. She might as well have said it out loud—
good luck
.

Leif’s regarded me with narrow eyes, his nostrils flared, as if he’d stepped in something particularly foul. "You're late."

"You weren't even done yet." Searching the wall for a clock proved futile—there wasn't one. Just a wall of glistening weapons and endless targets. But it couldn't have been more than a few minutes past.

"You will be here at nine sharp every morning," Leif said firmly. "Sharp."

"Yeah, okay. Sharp. I get it." I spun away from him, meaning to head for the training mat where I’d seen the girls. Leif grabbed my arm and jerked me back. "Ow! Wha—”

"Do not mock me." His voice went low and threatening. "Ever. Do you understand, half-breed?"

I blinked tears back and glared at him. "I got it. Now, let go."

The edge of Leif’s mouth quirked upward. "Crying already? You won't last long here."  He let my arm go.

I ground my teeth hard and refused to say anything as he led me across the training room. Leif stopped in front of the wall of weapons. "Choose.”

"What?" I stared at the swords lining the wall—all real, all lethal-looking—and my heart dropped like a stone. "You're joking right?"

He smirked again, and I wished his face would stick that way. "What's the matter? Are you afraid?"

"I've never used a sword in my life!" I tried to shove memories of the dream battle away. That wasn't me.

"You'll learn fast," he said. "Or you'll get hurt. It's a good incentive." He pointed at the wall again. "Pick one."

My hands were shaking, and I clenched them into fists, determined not to show how afraid I was. How was I supposed to choose one?

I let my eyes drift across the wall. There were swords of every size and shape. Broad-bladed, heavy swords and slender swords with elaborate guards. Curved swords I pictured a pirate using and a few with wicked-looking hooks on the end.

The sun slipped through the training room windows, reflecting off one sword in the far right corner. It was a long, slender blade, slightly curved, with a black leather grip. 

It wasn't like trumpet music started playing, but there was something about it that appealed to me. Reaching up, I carefully curled my fingers around the hilt, pulling it out of the metal brackets, bringing it down to eye level. The grip felt warm and natural in my hand. Deep down in the pit of my stomach, a little surge of excitement made my eyes widen.

This one. It felt right.

"Not the katana."

Startled, I looked up from the sword.

Leif was glaring at me. I'd forgotten he was there for a moment. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that one isn't for you. Pick another."

I stared at him in confusion. "You didn't say I had limited options. You just said pick one. What's wrong with this one?"

"It's not for you," he snapped. His face had gone pale, save for two spots of color high on his cheeks.

Why the hell was he so angry I'd picked this one?

"I want it." My grip tightened on the handle. None of the other swords on the wall would do. Maybe it was because he seemed to hate it, but I wasn't giving it up. I hiked my chin high and glared at him. “No katana, no lessons."

"You will do as I say." Leif’s voice was tight with fury, and loud enough that the woman teaching the jotun children glanced over, frowning.

"Everything all right there, Your Highness?"

His face grew even more flushed, and he nodded and turned back to me. "Fine, keep the damn sword for all the good it will do you. You'll be useless with it regardless."

Grinning, I followed him to the center of the floor, gripping the handle of the katana. He could insult me all he wanted. I'd won this particular battle.

"I’ll teach you basic guards," he said. "Then we'll move to hand-to-hand combat."

My grin faded. Something about the idea of Leif coming at me with his bare hands was almost as bad as him charging me with a sword. The thought of him touching me made my skin prickle and my throat tighten. Every self-preservation instinct I had balked at the idea.

"Bend your knees and distribute your weight evenly." Leif strode toward me, and it took everything I had not to flinch.

I bent my knees.

He held his sword out, a heavy blade with a broad end, and stuck it between my ankles, smacking the flat part on the inside of my shin.

"Ow!" I yelped.

He smiled thinly. "Farther apart."

"Why don't you just
say
that?" I planted my feet farther apart, my chest tight with anger.

"You'll learn faster this way. Trust me."

"I trust you about as far as I can throw you,"

Leif’s only answer was to let the sword drift and smack my other ankle, sending a bolt of pain through my anklebone, and I had to clench my teeth to keep from screaming at him.

He stepped back and held his sword up. "Hold your sword at an angle, like this, away from your body. Point it at your opponent's chest."

I wrapped my hands around the grip and tilted the katana, feeling another rush of pleasure. The sensation of holding a sword was foreign, so why did it make me feel so charged and full of confidence?

"That's
en garde
," he said. "Your other hand will likely be holding a shield if you're in battle. Now, tip it down and bring it across your body like this. You want to guard your left hip. Now, push through the other way."

I copied his movements, the sword flowing smoothly. After a few seconds, I realized I had a huge grin on my face. There was something familiar about this, an old rhythm, sort of like riding a bike—if I had ridden the bike a hundred years ago and only in my dreams. It was familiar and alien all at once.

"What are you doing?" The sword wavered in my hands, and I jerked my head up.

Leif’s face was dark, and the tip of his sword rested on the ground.

"What?" I shook my head, surfacing from the daze.