Frost

by E. Latimer

  Leif moved closer, first one step and then another. He bared his teeth and leaned toward me. "Making proclamations now." He reared back and threw his hand up. "Let her be a servant!"

  There was real laughter this time—and not just from the wolf pack.

  "Aren't you theatrical," Leif sneered. "And the queen herself doing the bidding of a mere human child. You seem to have some kind of strange hold over her."

  The laughter tapered out, and there was a low rumble. Agreement? It was hard to tell from people’s expressions. Everyone just looked...hostile.

  My hands shook, so I clenched my fingers into fists and glared at him. "It was a suggestion—"

  "Oh, but she really seems to think you have some sort of idea how to deal with her subjects." Leif shook his head, faking admiration. "I've only ever seen her hold off a sentence for one person. So this is something to be proud of, Megan. Oh, should I call you Amora?" He leaned in close again. "She seems to really believe you are Amora. Wouldn't you say?"

  By this time, the crowd outside the lounge had swelled so much that it didn't seem likely there was anyone in the actual lounge anymore. A ripple went through them at Leif's last statement.

  "Is she going to give the throne to a human, do you think?" Leif threw his head back and laughed.

  The laughter was echoed by a few people in the crowd. His wolf pack laughed too, but it was different. Darker. The girl with ginger streaks in her blond hair winked at me, making my stomach plunge.

  "Well, you have a good night, Megan." He emphasized my name. He'd been doing it for the entire conversation and it made me want to slap him.

  Leif turned away, pushing through his pack of wolves. They patted him on the shoulders as if he'd done something clever.

  Then he strode away down the hall, his entourage in tow, leaving me staring after him like an idiot, my face burning. Tears started prickling the backs of my eyes, so I turned abruptly and grasped Charlotte's arm.

  "Let's just go back to the room."

  "I... Yeah. Okay."

  We both walked away. I refused to look at anyone as we passed the crowds, keeping my head up and my eyes fixed straight ahead. People were filing back into the lounge, but there was a noticeable group of them still standing in the hallway as if they, too, were shell-shocked. The buzz of conversation rose and fell. Not normal conversation—something that felt more urgent.

  I quickened my pace. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  “He did that deliberately." I stretched out on the bed

  Charlotte fiddled with the powders and brushes on the vanity table, apparently bored enough to start dusting herself with sparkles. "Who, Leif?" She looked back at me in the mirror, pausing in the middle of her application. A cloud of sparkles showered off the brush and onto the table, covering her from head to toe. “Did what? Acted like a complete douche? I think we know that's pretty deliberate."

  "Right. But not what I meant." I rolled over and propped my chin in my hands, staring at her reflection in the mirror. She went back to dusting her cheeks.

  "He spoke really loudly. He wanted to draw a big crowd."

  She frowned, setting the brush down. "That guy has a real problem with his mother."

  "He’s not even an actual prince. Everyone knows that," I said.

  Charlotte's eyebrows went up.

  Why had I jumped in with that? I didn't even trust the queen, so it wasn't like I was jealous of Leif. But if I was some sort of weird reproduction of Amora, I wanted to assure myself that I wasn't related to Leif by blood. Not even close.

  "Anyways, did you notice the way he talked about the queen? He's trying to start something." I didn't have to add, "And he's using me," because Charlotte had come to the same conclusion.

  Her eyes widened. "So...you think he's using you to cast doubt on her? Like...to start a rebellion or something?"

  "Do you think he wouldn't?" I glanced over at the door.

  On the off chance that someone was listening, this could be a potentially dangerous conversation. Leif either knew or suspected that the queen had plans to make me her heir someday. Either way, I didn't want to take the chance that he might have someone spying on us. So I dropped my voice to a loud whisper.

  "You don't think he's reckless enough?"

  "Good point." Charlotte's expression went dark. "Think we should tell someone?"

  I pursed my lips. "Tell them what? That he said bad stuff about his mom? It's not like that's proof of treason." Sighing, I let myself flop over onto my side, only to sit straight up as the door crashed open.

  I had a moment of sheer panic, sure it was Leif’s spy breaking in to silence me, but Amy stood in the doorway, laughing.

  "Oh my Gods, Megan. We heard you had a showdown with Leif in the hallway. I'm so sad I missed that."

  Alicia chimed in. "Are you crazy?"

  "You should have waited for us." Stacey leaned against the doorway, tapping her nail file against the ice. "We could have backed you up."

  I flopped back over with a groan, trying to shove my annoyance down. Everyone else around here hated me, so I wasn't about to piss Amy off. Still...

  "Amy, don't you ever knock?"

  "Tell us everything." Amy ignored the question, crossing the room to the bed, sitting down heavily.

  I groaned. "There's nothing to tell other than the fact that he's a colossal jackass."

  "We heard he said you were going to be the heir." Becca's eyes were wide. "Is that true?"

  "No." The lie tasted bitter on my tongue. It dropped down into my stomach and settled there like a rock, which only grew heavier as the girls stared at me.

  Charlotte pressed her lips together and returned to her face powders.

  Did she know I was lying?

  If I told them, they might hate me. Maybe not all of them, but I was sure Amy would. Amy, who was already regarding me with a calculating expression, her eyes narrow. She didn't believe me.

  "Leif said a lot of stuff," I said defensively. "He seems to hate me for some reason, and he had to entertain the crowd that was watching, I guess."

  "People are definitely talking." Amy patted her hair, her eyes fixed on the far wall.

  Her hair was in a twisted updo today. In fact, so was Alicia's and Stacey's. Margaret and Becca were the only two who had their hair down. It was interesting to see who was adapting the queen's style and who wasn't.

  "They're talking about the queen." Amy fixed accusing, blue eyes on me. She had lipstick on too—the same deep red Queen Eira wore. "Of course, no one is saying anything outright. They don't dare."

  "No one would be that stupid." Stacey laughed, wandering over to the vanity to peer over Charlotte's shoulder. "Wow, there's a ton of makeup here. Way more than I got."

  "Right." Amy raised one eyebrow at me. "You got a better room, more clothing... hell, I heard the tailors are making things special for you now."

  I didn't say anything, but my face was starting to heat up. This was beginning to feel like an interrogation.

  "So you can see why people are saying the queen might make you her heir. And people don't think it's wise. Hence...the gossip." She smirked and lay back on the covers, tucking her hands behind her head. Her movements were careful. Clearly, she didn't want to mess her hair up. "But, of course, Queen Eira will nip that in the bud."

  "There's nothing actually going on though." I shrugged, trying to feign carelessness.

  She knew. Of course she knew.

  Maybe it was common knowledge at this point. Maybe that's why everyone acted so weird around me and some of the jotun were downright hostile.

  And Leif was playing on that hostility. Fanning the flames.

  I didn't know him well. I'd only met him twice now, but the way he'd looked at me each time, with a mixture of loathing and sly satisfaction, had made me certain he had a plan. And it wasn't going to be good.

  "Right. Not on the surface." Margaret settled on the bed on the other side of me. Unlike Am
y, she actually looked worried. "But the others are talking about you...a lot. Even the new recruits have heard the buzz. And Leif..." She hesitated, glancing over at Amy. "Just...be careful. I don't trust him."

  Amy rolled her eyes. "Oh Gods, you're so melodramatic, Marge. That's what happens when you read too many fantasy books. Leif isn't out to get anyone. He just doesn't like new people. He hates all the new recruits equally."

  Not equally, I wanted to say. Nothing like equally.

  But Amy had already changed the subject, prattling on about training with Leif. How muscular he was. How dreamy she found his cheekbones. It was nauseating, but she seemed to have forgotten she'd been interrogating me.

  "Get married already," Stacey said, and the girls burst out laughing. Even Charlotte cracked a smile and turned around in the chair to join in. "Can you imagine forcing him into a tux? Good luck."

  "He'd look so good in one though," Amy said. "With a rose corsage and me in a white-satin mermaid gown."

  "I will only show up if you make Leif wear the gown," I chimed in, and everyone dissolved into giggles.

  For a moment, I let myself grin, happy for the distraction, that Amy no longer had that look on her face. As much as I hated sucking up, I didn't want to lose them as friends. It couldn't just be me and Charlotte against a palace of hostile jotun. The idea was terrifying.

  So I smiled and laughed and made jokes about what Leif would look like as a wedding cake topper, all the while trying not to think about the fact that soon I’d have to train with him in a room full of weapons.

  This was not going to go well.

  ~ * ~

  Saturday morning, I woke up terrified. The first thing I remembered was the presentation ceremony. One of the servants was supposed to come get me, but I woke up early enough that I had an hour to lie there and worry. By the time I heard the faint knock on the front door, I was ready to vomit.

  I launched myself out of bed and scurried over to the door, opening it so fast that the girl on the other side flinched back. The servant was small and mousy-looking, with dirty-blond hair and blue eyes. She gave me a tentative smile once she had recovered.

  "Lady Amora, my name is Mary. I'm sent to get you ready for the ceremony."

  "Yes," I stammered. "Sorry to scare you like that. I'm just super nervous."

  Her face brightened considerably, and she stepped in, motioning for me to follow her over to the vanity. I couldn't help noticing she was dressed slightly better than the other servants. Her blue dress was made of simple homespun cloth, but it was still pretty. There were no patches or holes.

  "Don't be. It's a simple ceremony. We just have to make sure you look nice, and you won't have to say anything. Just smile around at the people watching."

  "Have you seen one done before?" I trailed after her, watching as she started to lay makeup and hair products out. "I mean, is it very long?"

  "Well, sometimes, the girls and I sneak in the back and watch, or we'll be serving the wine." She placed a cloth bag on the middle of the table, and it unrolled into a line of makeup brushes. "It's not long at all, ten minutes at the most. Now, you go wash up while I lay out your dress." She shooed me toward the bathroom.

  I went, passing the bed where Charlotte was sitting up, mumbling, and rubbing at her face.

  "What time is it?" she asked.

  "Sorry. Apparently, this ceremony is early. Either that or it will take ages to make me beautiful." I retreated to the bathroom and shut the door behind me.

  It was weird to strip my nightie off and climb in the shower knowing that a complete stranger was on the other side of the door. I washed and conditioned my hair fast, not wanting to keep her waiting.

  When I got out, I wrapped a towel around myself and scrubbed at the mirror. Wide, scared eyes were reflected back at me. How was I going to stand up there without fainting? What if I puked on the queen's shoes? Oh hell...

  I turned away from my reflection and yanked one of the fluffy, white dressing gowns off the back of the door, wrapping myself in it like it was a giant terrycloth security blanket. When I reemerged, Mary had the entire vanity table covered with beauty products and Charlotte was hovering over her shoulder, talking excitedly.

  "Oh, that looks nice. Can you use that one?" She spun around and clapped her hands, face glowing. "Mary is going to do my makeup too! Isn't that awesome?"

  "Super awesome."

  When Charlotte turned back to the makeup, I gave Mary a grateful smile.

  It was hard to see my friend constantly pushed aside. Especially after someone like Leif had had the nerve to tell her that she should be a servant and then the run-in with Lady Edda. Charlotte deserved some special treatment.

  "Let's get you done up now." Mary gestured for me to sit.

  I did, trying to ignore the fact that my pale skin had turned completely blotchy from the hot shower. Hopefully the makeup would cover that up. Mary started on my hair first, blow-drying it for what seemed like forever. When it was finally dry, she went to work on it, parting my bangs—which had been growing long over the last week or so—and curling the back of my hair, carefully pinning each strand.

  Watching her work was interesting. Was she a hair dresser for the royalty in the palace? Is that why she was dressed better than the other servants? I wasn't sure if asking would be rude, and Charlotte was already talking a mile a minute as she pawed through the dresses in our closet.

  "I should pick this one. Oh, but this one is really beautiful. Oh wow—sequins."

  "Pick whatever you like." Mary smiled at me in the mirror. "We already picked out a white one for you. The queen specified that.”

  My eyes went wide. "She did? Is that something to do with the ceremony?"

  Mary shrugged, dropping her eyes back to her work.

  Did she know something she wasn’t saying? I didn't press the subject.

  Charlotte was still talking. “Oh, this one."

  I tried to look in the mirror as she placed it on the bed, but I couldn't see because Mary had a very firm grip on my hair.

  "Almost done,” she said.

  "Do I get dressed now?"

  "Makeup first."

  The makeup took another fifteen minutes, and I was trying very hard not to fidget by the end of it. She had turned me sideways so I couldn't see myself in the mirror, so there wasn't much to look at aside from Charlotte jumping up and down.

  "Maybe I should wear this blue one. What do you think?" She waved the dress at me, gauzy fabric trailing in the air. "I mean, you're way taller than I am, and I'm pretty sure these are all measured to your size, but I could probably pull it off."

  "It's nice." Mary's face had gone all pinched.

  I frowned at her. It was obvious she knew more than we did, and this time, I wasn't going to let it slide. "What is it?"

  She flinched.

  "You know something, don't you? About the dresses?"

  "They were Amora's.” Mary's voice was flat, devoid of emotion, but her hands shook slightly. "The queen kept them all, every last scrap of clothing and makeup."

  I recoiled, my stomach churning. "What? You mean...my clothing? Is this makeup—"

  "No," Mary said hastily. "No, I wouldn't do that. That would be strange."

  "No kidding," I muttered and settled back in the chair. I was still slightly uneasy though.

  It was one thing to have everyone call you a dead girl's name. It was another to walk around wearing her clothing. I was starting to understand why Leif had lashed out at me like that. It really must have seemed like the queen was trying to replace her daughter with some kind of strange clone. Like a cheap knockoff.

  I had to put my hand over my mouth to stifle a strangled laugh.

  Mary blinked at me, her expression sympathetic. "I know it's hard to take in, but you had the right to know."

  Charlotte cleared her throat, slowly laying the gauzy, blue dress on the bed. Now, she was eyeing it suspiciously. "That's...weird."

  "That one would look good o
n you though." Mary gave her a bright smile like she was trying to bring the mood back up. "You should go ahead. But wait until we do your makeup first."

  I stared at Mary as she dusted my cheeks and chin with light powder. "How did you know this was Amora's stuff? Did you..." I didn't know how to phrase it, but Mary was already nodding.

  "I was her handmaiden. I did everything for her."

  For one horrifying second, I thought her eyes were going to fill with tears, but they didn't. Instead they went glassy, like she was far away reliving old memories. Then shook her head and smiled down at me. "Now, the queen has requested I look after you."