Miss Frost Chills the Cheater

by Kristen Painter

  Sin shrugged. “Maybe he won’t.”

  “Why wouldn’t he? He’s already done it twice. But I don’t care. It’ll just prove my point that he’s a sneaky snake.”

  “Maybe being confronted with his lies will put an end to it.”

  “I’d love for it to be that easy, but I have serious doubts.” I shook my head at the commendations on the wall. “I just need to have some face time with him and see for myself what kind of man he is.”

  “I agree,” Sin said. “He must think he’s really untouchable to publish such lies about the family that’s responsible for his job.”

  “I’m sure he—”

  The door swung open, and a very flustered August Woolsey rushed in. His tie was slightly askew, and the sheen of perspiration shone on his forehead beneath a few wayward strands of steely blue hair. He swiped at the hair and shut the door. “P-Princess Frost.”

  He did a little bow as I stood. “Mr. Woolsey.” That bow was not going to sway me. “I’m sure you know why I’m here.”

  “Yes, and I’m very sorry.” The wrinkles around his eyes deepened as he spoke. “Those articles, those terrible articles—I printed a notice saying they were editorials and do not reflect the views and opinions of the Pole Post.”

  That sort of stopped me short. “Then why were they published? And why were they on the front page?”

  He went red. “Because the editions I approved for printing were changed without anyone knowing about it. Those articles should not have been on the front page. They were not approved for the front page. They were not approved at all. They weren’t even written here. If they had been, they never would have been given headline space. At best, they would have been in the Op Ed section. But honestly, they’re not even appropriate for that.”

  I stared at him. Of all the scenarios I’d imagined, this wasn’t one of them. “Then why did it happen twice?”

  A look of deep mortification came over him. “Because I didn’t think it would happen twice. I am ashamed I made that assumption and was so very wrong.”

  I wasn’t quite sure what to say to him in that moment. He’d messed up. Big-time. But he knew that.

  He exhaled an utterly worn-out sigh. “I know you’re here to fire me. And I accept that. But I want you to know that I am deeply sorry. I had planned on sending you a letter of explanation and apology, then I thought perhaps I should come see you in person, then I wasn’t sure you would see me, but I suppose it’s too late for either of those things.”

  Behind him, Sin leaned over and shot me a questioning look.

  I shrugged. Woolsey could be making this all up, but he seemed genuine. And he looked like a man worn thin by stress. That wasn’t as easy to fake. “You said there was a notice printed about the articles being editorials and not approved?”

  “There was. I put it in the afternoon edition, but I sent a copy to the palace as soon as I had it written up, but I don’t suppose that ever got to you or your father.”

  “I’ve been gone all day.”

  “Again, I am deeply sorry. I love my job. At least, I did.” A little noise somewhere in between a groan and a sob slipped out of him.

  I started to worry about his immediate health. “Mr. Woolsey, please sit down. I’m not here to fire you.”

  For the first time since he’d entered the office, he lifted his head. “You’re not?”

  “No. But I am here to get to the bottom of this.” I took my seat again, ready to ask more questions and see if any of the answers gave us a clue as to who was behind all this.

  He nodded and sat behind his desk. “I’m happy to help. Happy. These articles are sullying the paper’s reputation too. Whatever you need, just ask.”

  “Good. You said you were going to write a little note of explanation. Why don’t you start by explaining who wrote the articles?”

  “If only I could.” The lines on his forehead deepened. “I have no idea.”

  Sin snorted. “You’re the editor in chief, are you not?”

  I lifted my hand toward Sin. “This is Sinclair Crowe, Mr. Woolsey. The man someone seems to think is going to be the end of the North Pole as we know it. In case you hadn’t already figured that out.”

  Woolsey’s hands were trembling a bit. He nodded. “Very good to make your acquaintance, sir. I have to say I do not share that person’s view. And yes, I am editor in chief, but what I approved for print was changed after hours. Between the time I approved the final layouts and the time they went to printing, someone added those articles.”

  Sin crossed his legs, sitting back. “How did that happen?”

  Woolsey straightened his name plate. “I talked to my layout people, my printers, even the security guard. None of them know how it happened, other than someone gained access and made the changes unbeknownst to the rest of us.”

  Sin glanced at me before his next question. “Who has access to this building besides those who work here?”

  Woolsey frowned. “Not many people. Even amongst those who work here, only a handful have keys.”

  That wasn’t unusual. Still, if the building had security…

  Sin had picked up on that too. “Not even your security saw anything?”

  “No, but in their defense, I should point out that the paper has never had any kind of security issues before. At least not since I’ve worked here, and that’s been a long time. The North Pole is a very low-crime area. Almost nonexistent, really. I’m sure Princess Frost can attest to that. And the newspaper just isn’t a place anyone would want to break into. Why would they? There’s nothing much of value here. Our worth is in what we produce, not what’s in the building. Although that worth seems rather questionable now that our content can’t be trusted.”

  He looked miserable. So much so that I felt for him in a way I hadn’t expected. Before I could say anything, he opened the folder on his desk and took out a large piece of doubled newsprint. “This is the current working layout. It’s what’s running tomorrow.”

  He unfolded it and showed it to me.

  The headline read The Post Apologizes.

  I nodded. “I like that. I assume there’s an article to go with it?”

  “Yes. I’ll be happy to get you a copy right now. And I want you to know, I plan on staying here until this edition goes to print to be sure there’s no tampering.”

  “What about your security team?” Sin asked.

  Woolsey chuckled sadly. “Team? The paper has one security guard. Mort Deerman is ninety years old and is probably the only elf who’s worked here longer than I have. Ninety isn’t that old in elf years, but I have a feeling he naps on the job from time to time. I can’t let the sole responsibility of watching over this edition fall on him.”

  Suddenly, Woolsey’s eyes bulged. “Please don’t fire Mort. This isn’t his fault.”

  I leaned forward. “No one’s firing anyone. But why don’t you hire a couple other guards to help out?”

  “We’ve never needed more guards before. But I did put a request in. I’m sure approval will take a few days. I know His Majesty is very busy.”

  “He is.” But I also knew my dad wasn’t a slacker. “When did you put the request in?”

  “Just this morning. Right after the first article about…” He glanced at Sinclair. “When the issue with the tinker competition appeared.”

  I crossed my arms as I sat back. “And the one with the write-up calling Mr. Crowe death?”

  Woolsey fiddled with his collar and answered softly, “Yes.”

  “Mr. Crowe is a necromancer. He’s not death. He’s not a reaper. He simply has the power to temporarily overcome mortality.” He also had the ability to mark someone with his death touch, leaving a wound on them that could only be removed surgically, but sharing that was not going to help.

  Woolsey shifted in his seat. He was now actively avoiding eye contact with me and Sin.

  “Does that make you uncomfortable, Mr. Woolsey?”

  He took a breath. “It’s
not something I’m used to.”

  I supposed a lot of people felt that way. I tried to soften the tone of my voice to be more understanding. “What do you think is most disconcerting about his being a necromancer? What have you heard people say that bothers you?”

  If Woolsey could have left, I’m sure he would have. He almost looked at Sin. “It’s been said…” He coughed nervously. “That a necromancer’s touch causes death. That is rather unsettling. As I’m sure you can imagine.”

  Sin sighed. “I’m sure it is. To say that a necromancer’s touch causes death isn’t exactly true. Not unless you’re a vampire. But my touch doesn’t cause death any more than the touch of a winter elf does. Do you go around freezing people to death, Mr. Woolsey?”

  He snorted. “No.”

  “Nor do I use my gifts so carelessly. Now, are there any vampires in town that I need to be aware of?”

  He shook his head rapidly. “No, no vampires. Just us winter elves, some ice trolls, the occasional snow nymph, you know.” He laughed in an anxious but relieved kind of way.

  I laughed too, to help put him at ease. “Mr. Woolsey, if Sinclair’s touch caused instant death, do you think I’d still be sitting here? I hold hands with him all the time. We walk arm in arm. And we’ve kissed.”

  “On more than one occasion,” Sin added proudly.

  I almost choked as I continued speaking to Woolsey. “And I look pretty alive to you, don’t I?”

  He laughed again, this time without reservation. “Yes, Princess, you look very much alive. And happy too. Despite the rumors that have been spread. People don’t think things through, do they?”

  “No, they often don’t.” I smiled at him.

  He touched a silver pen on his blotter. “I’ve been guilty of believing things I shouldn’t as well. I am deeply sorry about that. I will strive not to let it happen again.”

  “You’re forgiven. Why don’t you do an interview with Mr. Crowe? Ask him some questions. Dispel some of the misunderstandings the folks in town have. It would mean a great deal to me if the truth about Mr. Crowe was able to rise above the rumors.”

  Woolsey nodded. “I agree. An interview would be great.” He finally made eye contact with Sin. “Would you be willing to do that, Mr. Crowe?”

  Sin grinned. “Absolutely. If people are going to talk about me, let’s give them something real to talk about.”

  “Excellent,” Woolsey said. “I need a little time to prepare my questions. And we should get a good photo. Maybe two. What do you say about tomorrow morning?”

  “Perfect,” Sin said. Then he glanced at me. “Unless there’s something else scheduled I don’t know about.”

  “Nope,” I said. “That’s a good time.” I put a hand on Woolsey’s desk. “We’ll be here right after breakfast. And I’m going to look into that request for additional security as soon as we get back to the palace.”

  “Thank you, Princess Frost.”

  I stood. Sin and Woolsey followed. I extended my hand. “I’m grateful for your time and your explanation, Mr. Woolsey. We’ll be in touch soon.”

  He shook my hand. “Excellent. I appreciate you taking the time to listen. And not firing me.”

  “Of course.”

  Sin stuck his hand out as well. “See you tomorrow.”

  Woolsey hesitated for half a second, then snorted softly and shook Sin’s hand. “Yes. Tomorrow. I’ll see you then, sir.”

  As we headed for the crawler, Sin took my hand.

  I peered at him. “Do you think you should have explained your death touch to him more thoroughly?”

  “Do you?”

  “No. It’s not his business.”

  “Good.” He shrugged. “It’s not as if I keep it a secret, but it’s not something I readily share. And it’s not like it’s going to happen accidentally. The time it happened at the Black & Orange Ball was a one in a million.”

  “I know.” We’d been frozen in place so that thieves could strip all the valuables from the crowd at the ball. Sin had been using his abilities to try to unfreeze himself, and one of the thieves had brushed against his hand, making contact and taking the brunt of Sin’s power. That small touch had resulted in a mark that required medical attention to remove it and stop the death from spreading. “I don’t think it’s anything anyone needs to know about.”

  “Good, because unless it becomes more of an issue, I’m keeping it between us.” He held the door open for me, and we went back out into the bright sun of the parking lot.

  “Fine with me.” I smiled, ready to change the subject. “That was a pretty productive meeting.”

  “It was. I think we can eliminate Woolsey as a suspect.”

  “Yes, but not my cousin.” I sighed. “You know who would have access to the Post building?”

  “I’m guessing royalty. Including your cousin.”

  “Yes and—” A new thought occurred to me. I glanced at my watch. “Speaking of royalty, we might be in big trouble.”

  “Why?”

  “Because the formal dinner is in less than two hours, and we haven’t started getting ready yet.”

  “It won’t take me long. I’m assuming that’s not the case for you?”

  “For a formal dinner? It’s going to take a little longer than usual. I’m sure my team is already in my suite waiting on me.” I dug out the crawler keys from my pocket.

  Sin’s brows rose and amusement danced in his eyes. “You have a team?”

  “Yes. That’s what it takes to get a princess ready.” I really wanted to tell him he’d have one as well when he became the Queen’s Consort. Instead, I dangled the crawler keys as we approached the vehicle. “You need me to point the way back to the palace from here?”

  “Nope. I got it.” He grabbed the keys out of my hand, laughing.

  “Good. Just drive fast, will you?”

  “Like you have to ask.”

  Sin got us home in record time, but as I’d suspected, my team was indeed waiting on me. But they were in the hall, not my apartment. That was new. Maybe because I’d brought Spider to the NP with me? I doubted any of them wanted to be the one who let my cat escape.

  And it seemed there was a small team waiting on Sin as well. I guess years of service had taught Gregory how to perfectly anticipate guests’ needs, and he’d understood Sin wouldn’t have welcomed more than a valet and a barber, so that’s exactly who Gregory had sent. I was thankful for that small team, and for Gregory being keen enough to know what Sin might find overwhelming.

  Sin took the additions to his prep in good stride, kissing me on the cheek as we parted ways in the hall and went into our apartments to get ready.

  Our late arrival meant things were a little frantic, but as my lady’s maid, hair dresser, makeup artist and jeweler all started talking, I held my hands up for silence.

  “Okay, I’m late. It’s not a big deal.”

  “But, Princess,” Allene began. She had been my lady’s maid since I was twelve. “You haven’t even picked out a dress.”

  She gestured to the rack near the window. At least a dozen dresses hung there, ranging from all shades of blue to deep purple and emerald green.

  I walked over and gave them a quick look. There wasn’t time for more. “The emerald green. I’ll wear the tanzanite jewelry and my hair down, but pulled back.”

  I turned and smiled at my team. “Good?”

  Allene nodded. “Excellent, Your Highness. We’ll get everything ready while you shower.”

  “Great.” I went to change and shower. I wasn’t washing my hair again. Nesto, my hair dresser, had taught me a long time ago that freshly washed hair was harder to style anyway.

  Twenty minutes later, I was in a robe and sitting in the styling chair in my dressing room. Nesto was working on my hair, Benna was working on my face, and Allene was steaming my dress.

  Davide had gone to the vault to get the suite of jewels I’d requested.

  I wondered how Sin was making out. I was sure that on
ce I’d picked out my dress, his valet had been informed so the appropriate accessories could be supplied, even though Sin had brought his own suit. His valet would probably offer him a tie and pocket square that had some green in them, and Davide would show him a selection of cuff links that complemented my jewels.

  Sin’s valet would also make sure his suit and shirt were pressed and lint free and his shoes were shined.

  I hoped Sin was okay with all of that. Royal life was an odd thing. I mean, I was used to it, and it seemed strange to me at times. How crazy would Sin see it? Would he think it was invasive? Because it was. But these people were just doing their jobs. Jobs that they’d always done.

  Jobs that Sin might think completely unnecessary.

  “Princess?”

  I stopped staring into space to look at Benna. “Yes?”

  She held a makeup brush aloft. “You’re frowning.”

  “Sorry. Just worried about how Mr. Crowe is going to take all this fussing.”

  Nesto took a curling iron off the dressing table. “He seems like a man’s man. He might not like it. But then, your father is a man’s man and…well, your father isn’t so fond of all this either.”

  We all laughed. Allene shook her head. “Sometimes I think it would be nice to have all this help, and sometimes I don’t know how you do it, Princess. So many people in your personal space.”

  “Well, I don’t do it when I’m in Nocturne Falls. But when I’m here, I’m used to it.” I closed my eyes. Nesto’s hands in my hair were almost putting me to sleep.

  “Does Mr. Crowe like the North Pole?” Nesto asked.

  “Mm-hmm. Although not all of the North Pole likes him, it seems.”

  The team went quiet, and I realized some of them might have reservations about the man I loved as well.

  “Your Highness,” Benna started, “I think…people just need to get to know him. If you love him, then he has to be a good man, and everyone else will come to love him too.”

  “I hope so.” I sighed at Nesto’s bliss-inducing touch. “Tomorrow, the Post is doing an interview with him. That will help people get to know him and understand who he is and what the truth is about necromancers.”