Frost

by E. Latimer

  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.

  "Why did you lie to me?"

  "What are you talking about?"

  I shrank back as he grabbed a fistful of my shirt, snarling in my face.

  "You're familiar with this. You were doing the movements before I got to them. Don't think you can make a fool out of me, girl. Where did you learn? I thought you lived with the humans until now."

  "I-I did," I stammered. "I didn't learn it. I've never done this in my life."

  "Very well. Since you are so confident in your swordplay, we'll move straight to hand-to-hand. Set the sword down in the corner."

  I swallowed and moved to set the katana down, reluctant to part with it. My heart was beating out a steady rhythm in my ears, and the palms of my hands were sweaty. Something told me he wasn't going to go easy on me.

  "You attacked my cousin the other day." His face was hard. "She's an annoying twit, but you can't go around punching people whenever they make you mad. What I'm going to teach you is for battle. When someone attacks you, they're not going to fight fair. The first thing I'll do is teach you how to block a punch."

  He stepped toward me, his fists raised, and I stumbled backwards, half thinking about running for the door.

  He’d probably been dreaming about this for days. An excuse to beat the shit out of me.

  "No," he said. "No flinching. The last thing you want to do in a fight is shut your eyes. You'll hit the floor before yo
u even know what's going on."

  My lips pulled back in a snarl. "You barely gave me any warning.”

  "Oh, and all your attackers are going to give you a nice formal warning before they're about to hit you?" He planted his feet and squared his shoulders, shaking his blond hair out of his eyes. "I'll show you how to block. Throw a punch at me."

  "What?"

  "Try to hit me."

  I just stared at him, feeling queasy. It wasn't that I didn't want to hit him. All I'd done since I met him was fantasize about it. But this felt like a trap.

  "You want me to...hit you?"

  Leif snorted. "I doubt you'll land a blow. Just punch straight out like you're going for my face."

  "Um, all right..." I could definitely do this. In fact, it would feel pretty damn good. I took a deep breath, trying to channel the anger boiling in my stomach, and swung.

  He dodged to one side and laughed, flicking his hair back with a jerk of his head. "What was that? You're pulling back. Put your body into it. Don’t you want to hit me?"

  "I can't say I didn't think about it during your little stunt yesterday." I wanted him to know I knew what he was doing, that he was trying to set me up for something. I wasn't a sucker. "You really think people will fall for that?"

  He bared his teeth. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

  "What is your problem anyways?" I was so angry that my arms were trembling. Just the way he looked at me made me want to punch him, even if it was an invitation for him to hit me back.

  “I can see you’re angry enough. Come on. Try it.” He held his fists up, just under his jaw, eyes glittering. “Come on, Amora.”

  I hated the way he said that name like it was a dirty word. His voice filled me with anger, and I tried to channel it, bringing my arm back and swinging at his face as hard as I could. Leif twisted sideways incredibly fast, catching my outstretched arm as he turned. The room spun as he wrenched my arm up behind my back.

  I gasped, tears stinging my eyes, my joints burning under the strain. It felt like he was about to break something.

  His voice was low and gravelly right next to my ear. "Not so confident anymore, are you?"

  I tried to keep my voice from shaking. "You're hurting me."

  "Battle hurts. Fighting hurts. You need to get used to pain. Push through it." He laughed, and the sound grated on me like broken glass on cement. "You're soft. The other girls are far ahead of you. You really think you're cut out to be heir?"

  Did he actually know what the queen had said? Or was he just bluffing, hoping I’d admit he was right?

  He released my arm, and I pulled away, clutching it to my chest, glaring at him. The room swayed, and I blinked. I can’t let him see me cry.

  He stared, face cold and impassive. "They probably won’t let you fight in the battle anyways. It's not like you have anything to worry about."

  My mouth went dry.

  Leif’s smile was ugly. "Oh, didn’t you know? We're preparing for the ultimate battle. The one to end it all. I'll lead the charge, and the sons of Muspel will fall. After that, the kingdom is mine." He turned away, tossing over his shoulder, "Of course, she might want you to fight. If she does, I doubt you'll last five minutes. You're obviously too delicate and pampered. See you tomorrow, princess."

  Part of me longed to spit venomous words back at him. To tell him what his own mother had said. His fears were true. She did want me to be her heir. But I didn't. I just watched him walk away, leaving me in the center of the training room, my shoulder throbbing.

  I limped for the door, and his words rang in my ears. “I doubt you’ll last five minutes.”

  He was obviously lying to freak me out. I wasn’t going to be in battle any time soon. There was no way I was ready, and the queen knew that. Leif would say anything to get to me.

  There was one motivation to get better at hand-to-hand combat though. I wouldn't be content until I landed a blow right in the middle of Prince Leif’s arrogant face.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  After the lesson, once I was showered and no longer feeling like I’d been run over by a dump truck, I headed for the library. Erik had asked me to meet him there.

  One of the pashmina wraps from the clothing chest was draped across the back of the vanity chair, so I snatched it up on my way out, draping it over the straps of the black cotton dress I was wearing. It wasn't like I got cold anymore, but I was pretty sure there were bruises developing on my arms. If Erik saw that, he'd flip out, and Leif was already making everything into a big scene. The last thing I wanted was some sort of confrontation between the two of them. It would only mean more gossip, more black looks from the jotun.

  As I slipped out the door and started down the hallway, footsteps echoing in the wide, open space, I wished I'd found a sweater with a hood so I could pull it over my face. It would have been comforting not to be recognized. Hopefully I wouldn't run into anyone on the way there.

  As if triggered by this thought, I heard the faint echo of footsteps from around the corner. Pulling the pashmina tighter around my shoulders, I straightened my back. Let them come. I'd meet their eyes and keep my chin up. It wasn't like I'd actually done anything wrong.

  The footsteps grew louder along with the low murmur of voices.

  "You ruined it yourself, Nora. We can't afford another one. For the sake of the Gods, girl, I don't know what to do with you."

  "I'm cold though. Look, I have goose bumps."

  "You should have thought of that before you went tramping through the brambles and tore your nice sweater up."

  That certainly didn't sound like any of the snooty, full-blooded jotun, and sure enough, the two women rounding the corner were servants. Their drab, brown dresses were a strange contrast to the shining surroundings. The taller one—who I pegged as the lecturer right away—was wearing a black handkerchief over her hair.

  The servants stopped when they spotted me, and the woman in the black handkerchief grew a shade paler. They both bowed at the waist and stayed that way, and I faltered, clutching the cloth of the pashmina.

  The smaller girl had goose bumps running up her arms, and even bowing low the way she was, she still clutched her arms like she was cold.

  She reminded me of Charlotte a little bit, with a pointed chin and a light dusting of freckles over her nose. Charlotte was always complaining that she was cold too, but I knew she wouldn’t mind if one pashmina went missing. She would understand.

  "Um, you look like you're freezing." My voice was shaky as I pulled the scarf off my shoulders. I hoped they didn’t notice my hands trembling.

  What did the servants think when they saw me? That I was only half jotun too? That it could have been them in my position? I would hate me if I were them.

  The smaller jotun glanced up as I held the pashmina out, her eyes wide. She started to reach for it, but the woman in the black handkerchief said, "My lady, we can't."

  I took a step closer. "Please."

  For some reason, it was important I did this. The girl was cold, and I had at least a half dozen sweaters I didn't even need back in the room .

  "Please, I want her to have it. I don't get cold. There's no sense in me wearing it just for decoration."

  The woman in the black handkerchief nodded slowly. "I... We thank you, my lady." Her voice was husky, her eyes hooded, as if she weren’t sure I could be trusted.

  "Please, call me Megan." I glanced up and down the hallway.

  If Lady Edda had smacked Charlotte just for talking to her, was I going to get these two in trouble? I could imagine the servant being accused of stealing it or something.

  "Look, if anyone challenges you about it, just send them my way."

  The smaller jotun's eyes shone, and she nodded. "Thank you…Megan." She added my name hesitantly, like she was testing it out.

  The older servant gave her a sharp look and then made another low bow. "Thank you, my lady. We will treasure it."

  That was my cue. I gave them
a wide smile, turned, and kept walking.

  It was completely silent behind me, as if they were both too shocked to say anything. Either that or they were waiting until I was out of earshot.

  I might have been missing the pashmina, but somehow, I felt warmer than I had before.

  The corridor branched off, and after a moment of indecision, I turned left.

  It was a shame there weren't maps posted along the walls every now and again, like those instruction centers they had at the mall. It would be weeks before I felt totally sure where I was going.