Frost (27 page)

I nodded, feeling a surge of sympathy, which drained away as quickly as it had come when I remembered my next question. “Why didn’t you tell me the queen wants me to fight in some battle? Leif had to be the one to tell me, of all people. I thought he was doing it to scare me until the queen mentioned it today.”

He grimaced, rubbing his forehead. “I’m sorry. It wasn’t confirmed you’d be fighting until today. I didn’t want to scare you.”

I scowled at him. “This is insane. I can’t go to battle.” I slammed my hands down on the table. “I’m not her precious daughter. I’m seventeen years old for God’s sake. I’m supposed to be gossiping in the school bathroom and worrying about my hair. I’m graduating next year, not chopping people’s heads off.” The thought made my stomach squirm.

Erik shook his head. “The battle isn’t any time soon.”

“It isn’t?”

“It might not be for years.”

My pulse started to slow a little, and I felt my shoulders relax. “Why?”

“The queen waits for a sign that was prophesied.” The crease in his brow deepened. “When frost meets fire in its own abode, it is then that the war horns will sound.”

I raised one brow. “Is that supposed to be the prophecy? What does that mean?”

He shrugged. “It’s been interpreted a few ways, but the queen thinks it means we’ll catch a traitor amongst our people. That’s why the elite guard has doubled patrols in the last few months, and we have regular checks through the villages. And every so often, she finds someone she thinks might be the traitor and…questions them.” His face went a shade paler, and he cleared his throat.

I didn’t want to know what he meant by that.

He straightened up and took a breath. "Anyways. The battle could be years away. Centuries, even. The queen wants you caught up on everything, not just fighting. She wants me to teach you our history, but I think it's more important we get on with your ice training. You'll need that in battle more than history books."

For the next hour we worked on my training, and I tried to push aside all thoughts of prophecies and battles. I was pretty good at freezing simple things by now—bowls of water and cups of tea. This time, we started working on freezing another frost jotun. According to Erik, it was what the queen wanted me to work on the most.

That would come in handy if Leif tried something. It didn’t prove Lady Edda right.

It was frustrating, to say the least.  I tried to make Erik's hand freeze, but I couldn't even make his skin change temperature.  He kept telling me to release myself to being a frost giant, to accept who I was. Accept who I was—that was funny. I had to bite a sharp retort back every time he said it.

How was I supposed to accept who I was, when I wasn't even sure anymore?

Charlotte was in front of the vanity when I pushed my way through the big double doors. Becca was crouched beside her, one hand on Charlotte’s chin, applying eyeliner with careful strokes, brows creased in concentration.

"Hey, Megan!" Charlotte waved enthusiastically and was soundly scolded by her makeup artist.

Becca straightened up and gave me a smile as I came in, pushing her hair out of her face. Both girls were dressed up, Charlotte in a silky blue gown and Becca in flowing silver.

"Why are you two getting all fancy?" I said.

"We're going on the starlight walk," Charlotte said excitedly. "Becca just told me all about it. It's a ritual every evening. You meet handsome men under the stars..." She sighed, so obviously smitten with the idea that I had to keep myself from laughing. "They invited me to go."

I couldn't help feeling suspicious. "Amy did?"

Becca went back to the eyeliner, place one hand under Charlotte’s chin to tilt her face up. “Amy might be the ringleader in her own little brain, but we do things without her. It's just me and Charlotte and Margaret tonight. You're welcome to come if you like."

"You should!" Charlotte clapped and then sat still again when Becca shook a finger at her.

"Sorry, guys," I shuffled over to the bed and flopped on top of the covers, groaning at how good it felt to be off my feet, "but my entire body aches. Leif and I had a pretty epic sword fight."

"We know," Charlotte said in a hushed voice. "
Everyone
 knows."

"Leif is pissed." Becca actually sounded amused. "I mean 
really
 mad. Okay, you’re done, Charlotte."

I sat up. "Wait, is he telling people? I can't see him bragging about that."

"No way." Charlotte stood up and smoothed her dress down, smirking. "Getting his butt kicked by a newbie isn't something he'd want to talk about. All the nobles were there though, so now, the whole palace knows.”

"Gossiping is somewhat of a 
sport
 around here," Becca said dryly.

"Oh." I flopped back over, pressing a hand to my forehead. "That's great. Everyone will hate me even more now."

Charlotte spun in front of the mirror, her face glowing as she watched the dress flare out around her legs. "Have a nice, relaxing bath and don't worry about them. Leif's just sour because you handed him his butt on a platter."

 I snorted and let my head fall back onto the pillow. "Thanks. You two have fun."

The door slammed, and I heard them giggling all the way down the hallway. Then there was only silence—glorious, uninterrupted silence. After a minute, I got up and shuffled into the bathroom, running the water as hot as it would go into the big, marble tub.

I stuck my toe in before it was even halfway filled. Nearly scalding. Perfect temperature for my aching bones. I dropped my clothes in a pile on the floor and climbed in, sliding in an inch at a time, gasping a little at the heat before settled my body into the molded backrest.

It only took a few minutes for my eyes to start drooping.

~ * ~

Water lapped at my chin, and I gasped, struggling to sit up and stop breathing liquid into my lungs. I must have been more exhausted than I'd thought. The bathwater had gone from hot to tepid.

Stumbling out of the tub, I grabbed one of the white terrycloth robes from the hook on the door and shrugged into it before stepping carefully onto the bathroom tiles, which were warm against my bare feet. In the mirror, I noted dark circles under my eyes.

For all the sleep I got, you'd think I'd look refreshed, but at least I hadn't dreamed this time.

I pushed the bathroom door open with my shoulder, tucking my hair up into a sloppy bun to keep the wet ends from brushing my shoulders. Halfway through the doorway, the hair on the back of my neck prickled.

Something was wrong. The fireplace was lit, crackling noisily. The scent of pine filled the room. The fireplace had been empty and cold when I'd gone into the bathroom.

Heart in my throat, I crept forward a few inches, my gaze darting around the dim room. To the right was the king-sized bed, the sheets rumpled and unmade. Empty. To the left...a dark figure loomed. I gasped, staggering backward. My shoulders hit the doorframe. 

A servant stood in the center of the bedroom, dressed in the customary drab garments. His blond hair was unusual for a half-blood, long and straight, brushing his shoulders. He turned his head to look at me, and the fire light glinted off a pair of thick glasses.

"Sorry, princess," he said. "I didn't mean to startle you."

My face went hot, and I grasped the top of the bathrobe and pulled it tightly closed. "Why would you just walk in here?"

My mouth dropped open as the servant reached up and grabbed the ends of his long blond hair. He yanked on it, and the wig slid to one side, revealing dark-brown curls that sprang up wildly. He took his glasses off, tossing those aside as well, giving me a huge, sheepish grin.

"Sorry about that, I honestly didn't mean to scare you."

My heart was suddenly thundering against my rib cage. "Loki?"

My first thought was to run, but he was standing between me and the door. Alarm bells sounded in my head, and I took a step backward. "Are you here to kill me?"

Loki held up both hands. "I'm not here to hurt you. I promise. Just hear me out?"

"Do I have a choice?" I tugged on the neck of the bathrobe, feeling horribly exposed.

He cleared his throat and ducked his head, staring down at the floor. "I really have the worst timing—"

"Explain," I said sharply, and Loki jerked his head back up. "And you had better do a damn good job of it. I read your text messages."

"I know." He ran one hand through his curly hair, brown eyes searching my face. "I'm sorry. I should have told you. "

"Should have told me what? That you were supposed to kill me?"

 "No—that I took the job to make sure no one else did."

 I narrowed my eyes at him. "So you 
were
 supposed to kill me!"

He rubbed his forehead. "Technically, yes. We were aware of the queen's experiment with her husband. Surtr decided that, if they didn't have you to rally behind, they might not try to annihilate us again. But when I heard you were half human, I knew I had to take the job, to make sure no one else was sent after you.” He laughed abruptly, the sound devoid of humor. "My people are desperate. One of the other warriors would have done it without assessing if you were an actual threat or not.”

"Doesn't that just make you a saint." I glared at him. "So, where exactly where you taking me, then? Were you really going to take me to California and help me escape?"

"That was the original plan, but obviously, the queen pretty much thinks of you as her daughter now. There's no way she'd ever give up the search. That's not an option anymore."

I blinked at him, incredulous. "There
 are
 no options! I'm staying here. I don't trust you at 
all
."

"I know." Loki's face was earnest. "I don't blame you. But you can't stay here."

My voice came out in a growl. "What are you 
talking
 about—" He took a step closer, and again, I backed up, bumping my shoulder on the doorframe.

His voice was low and urgent. "Queen Eira is a nutcase, Megan."

It had been so long since anyone other than Charlotte had called me Megan. It made my stomach drop. Even though Erik had reassured me that the genetic memories couldn't take me over, maybe I was doing that myself. Maybe I was so used to that name that I had started to identify with it.             

"The queen can't be allowed to do what she's planning,” Loki said, and his voice was low and rough. “She wants to go to war, but my people won't have a chance. There aren't enough of us. We suffered because of her. She wants to destroy an entire race because of some outdated prophecy. She wants to destroy my 
home
..." His voice broke, and anger flashed across his face. "And she wants to use you to do it. This will be the second time she's tried to massacre my people. The woman you are named for knew it was wrong too. She ended up disobeying orders because of it."

"What?" I took a step forward, curiosity driving the fear away. "What happened? Tell me what you know about Amora."

 He smiled, but his eyes were hard. "During the battle, Amora led them. When it was over, there were hardly any of us left. Soldiers who lay down their arms on the battlefield weren’t spared, not even for slaves. The story is that Amora breached the city walls, killing the guards. They took the city. She was supposed to leave no one alive, but in the end, she refused. The soldiers burned the city that day, but before they did, she gave orders to allow the survivors to escape."

I stared at him, wanting to believe what he was telling me. But why hadn't Erik told me this part of the story?

My voice was breathless. "What about you? Did you fight? How did you survive?"

"I almost didn't. The frost jotun were foolish, overconfident in battle. They didn't check the dead to make sure they were really dead. There was enough blood on me to make it look like I had been fatally wounded. So like many of the other soldiers, I pretended. My father did the same thing. King Surtr."

My mouth dropped open. "Your father is the king?"

 Loki shrugged. "That's why I can get away with this stuff. That's why I can disobey him with regards to you." He spread his hands. "Come back with me. Come with me to the city of Muspelheim. I'll talk to my father. You can take refuge there. You can't stay here."

"Are you kidding?" I couldn’t believe his audacity. "Your father gave orders to 
kill
 me. I'm not going back there just 
hoping
 you're charming enough to talk him into sparing my life. Forget it!"

"He's not stupid," Loki argued. "He knows having you on our side would be a big asset. It would be huge! Once he gets to know you, he'll like you just as much—" He stopped abruptly and then cleared his throat. "He'll like you a lot."

What had he been about to say?

I stared at him curiously, and he gave me a wide-eyed look, hands folded together. It was somehow ridiculous and adorable all at once. I'd grant him one thing—it was hard to say no when he looked at me like that. But I wasn’t about to be talked into what could turn out to be suicide.

"No way." I folded my arms over my chest and planted my feet to let him know I couldn't be swayed on this. "I'm staying right here. At least I know the queen doesn't want me dead."

Leif’s obnoxious voice popped into my mind as if on cue, telling me that, once her fascination faded, I'd be executed. Was I really safe here? Maybe Loki was right and she was crazy. But there was no saying that this Surtr would be any better. So what the hell was I supposed to do?

The urge to flee seized me just as strongly as it had been the day I'd read the text messages on Loki's phone. I wanted to burst out of the bedroom doors and run down the corridors. Escape the ice palace and strike out on my own again.

Only where would I go that no one could find me? When I got out of the castle, I wouldn't even be in Grande Prairie. I'd be in some weird, otherworldly dimension.

Loki had stepped closer without me noticing, and now, he gently took my hand. My body went rigid, and I yanked my hand back, and he had the nerve to look wounded.

"I swear to you I don't want to hurt you. I'm not going to force you to come with me, but I can't leave you here at the mercy of these people. They're 
evil
. They massacred us. Do you know how long it took to rebuild our kingdom? To repopulate with only a handful of men? They did this to us, and I feel like it's my fault you're here. Like I chased you into their arms."

Loki stared into the fire, the flames reflected in his dark eyes. "I know you don't trust me. No one could blame you." He turned back, eyes alight. "Why don't we just get away from here? Go anywhere. We don't have to go back to my home. We can hide out on our own."

Instantly, memories of the hotel came flooding back. Of lying in bed with Loki, on separate sides of the bed, my body tense with nerves and excitement. Our fingers brushing and the thrill it had sent through me.              

And the text messages.

My voice was nothing but a shaky whisper. "I can't."

He ducked his head, looking down at his feet. "You think I'm lying."

"I don't know what to believe." My voice cracked. Frustration filled every part of me. "
They're
 telling me you're the enemy. You're telling me you were supposed to kill me but you can't and the queen is evil. What the hell am I supposed to believe?"

Loki looked right at me, and the full force of his brown eyes made my breath catch in my throat. "I won't leave without you. I'm going to prove to you that I mean what I say." He reached out and caught my hand again, and this time, I didn't pull back. "I won't let anything happen to you."

Heat flooded my face. My heart, which had settled into a regular rhythm after the shock of first seeing him, began thumping hard again.

"You can't stay here” I said. “What if they catch you?"

He gave me an easy grin. "They won't catch me. I'm a master of disguise. And you have no idea how easy it was to get into this place. They're so arrogant. They think nobody would dare challenge them." He released my hand and bent to pick up the wig and glasses he'd chucked on the floor. "No one ever looks twice at the servants. And the servants themselves are so downtrodden they hardly notice what's going on around them." His smile faded. "That's why this place is so vile. That's what it does to people."

"You don't have servants at...Mus—whatever?"

"We do, but they're paid. That's the difference. The servants here are little more than slaves." His voice was thick with disapproval.

"I don't understand you." I stared up at him, studying his face. It was open and friendly, not the face of a killer. "Why did you take the job? Why did you care if I was good or bad?"

"I wanted to meet the person who was most like Amora." His voice was quiet. "I never got to meet her, but I think she was a hero." He sighed. "My father was a fool to send me. He knows I just do whatever I want. He must have known I had an agenda of my own.”

“To find out if I’m an innocent human, or some kind of evil Amora knock-off?”

“That was pretty much it.”

An evil twin. I snorted. "So, if you had judged me as
bad,
you would have killed me?"

"Nah." He tilted his head to one side, eyes fixed on my face. "I still don't think I'd have the guts to flat-out kill a girl in cold blood. I probably would have just stranded you somewhere unpleasant and reported back that I'd done it."

Was he really telling the truth? Or just backpedaling by denying that he'd ever planned to kill me? I sighed, wishing I could hook him up to a lie detector.

“I’d better go.” Loki carelessly shoved the wig back on his head. It listed to the left, making him look ridiculous, and I couldn't help grinning.

"You might want to fix that."

Instead, he stuck the glasses on and gave me a huge, dorky grin, and I clapped my hand over my mouth to muffle my laughter.

He straightened the blond wig and cleared his throat, dropping his eyes to the ground. He hunched his shoulders, looking almost meek. "Will that be all, miss?"

My mouth dropped open. "You 
do
 look like a servant. That's a bit creepy, actually."

"It's all about posture and mannerism." Loki straightened up, grinning. "Anyone could pull it off. No one looks at you twice as long as you're not underfoot and you're working away at one menial task or another. I don't think anyone thinks a fire jotun would be stupid enough to try to sneak in. That works to my advantage."