Frost

by E. Latimer

  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 She wants to destroy an entire race because of some outdated prophecy.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."

  My smile slipped. "What if you get caught? You'll get in a huge trouble. The queen will—"

  "Don't worry about me." His smile was softer this time, and his eyes sparkled. He looked too pleased with himself. "I'll be fine. Think on what I said. We don't have to go to my city. We can go anywhere you want." He held his hands up when I started to protest. "Just think on it. I'll be here. I'll come to your room each night."

  The thought made my stomach flutter, but then I remembered Charlotte. "You can't. I have a roommate. My friend, Charlotte."

  Loki brows shot up. "Ah, well...if she's your friend, then she'll have to come with us.”

  I gave him a warning look.

  "If you decide to come with me. Can Charlotte keep a secret?"

  "I think so." I couldn't see Charlotte giving a life-or-death secret away for the sake of gossip. "Yeah."

  "Tell her, then," Loki said. "If you trust her, then I trust her. I'll be back tomorrow night. I'll bring in a tray of food so it looks like you've requested room service."

  My stomach fluttered as he stepped closer, touching my arm. I was pretty sure I was blushing, but hopefully he couldn’t see my face too well by the dim light of the fire.

  "I'll see you tomorrow night." Then he turned and strode for the exit, leaning back to give me a quick and cheeky wink before he shut the door behind him. "Sweet dreams, Megan."

  After he was gone I stood there for a little while, staring at the fire. Then I realized I’d just had an entire conversation with Loki while wearing a fluffy terrycloth dressing gown, and my face went bright red all over again.

  Groaning, I shuffled over to the bed and let myself crash onto the mattress.

  Who exactly was I supposed to trust? Loki seemed like he was telling the truth. He seemed open and honest and charming, but it could easily be a façade. He could be tricking me. I could leave with him and then find out that it had all been an elaborate lie.

  But if he had been sent to kill me, he wasn't doing a very good job of it. He'd already snuck into the palace and my room. He could have assassinated me right then and there, but he hadn't. Why gain my trust only to kill me? And what about his story about Amora? Nobody at the palace had mentioned that.

  I groaned and rubbed my temples. My brain was on overload. I was sore, exhausted, and confused. Sleep was the best course of action right now. Tomorrow, I would figure out who I could trust.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  It must have been distraction that made me go wandering the halls by myself that evening. Charlotte hadn't come back to our room, so I went to find her. It felt like, lately, between learning how to fight and lessons with Erik, I hadn't spent much time with her. It made me feel guilty. I needed to talk to her. The secret of Loki's visit was burning in my chest. I had to tell someone.

  During the evenings, the hallways were mostly empty. People tended to hang out in the dining hall, since an hour or so after dinner, lavish desserts were wheeled out, and the time in between was filled with socializing and wine. Either that or they retreated to the lounge.

  The dining hall was closest, so I made my way there, thinking about how I would phrase this new piece of information. Hopefully Charlotte wouldn’t freak out. She would probably tell me that I was insane to start trusting him again. She’d say he was tricking me into coming with him because he couldn't kill me in the middle of the palace without the queen realizing she was under attack.

  I faltered, slowing down, finally stopping in the middle of the hallway.

  If she did say that, she would have a good point. It made sense. Was I being incredibly foolish here? My cheeks started to heat up. Those text messages had been real. He'd been talking to someone about killing me. He was either lying to them or lying to me.

  It was impossible to know which.

  Shuffling footsteps up ahead jolted me out of my thoughts. If the servants found me standing there like an idiot in the middle of the hallway, staring at nothing, the gossip would be rampant. They'd probably make up some story that I was losing my mind.

  But it wasn't a servant who rounded the corner—it was Gunnar. His blond hair was caught up in a short ponytail, and he was wearing a loose cotton shirt that hung open at the chest. The worst part was what was slung over his shoulders. At first glance, I mistook it for a pelt of some kind—until he got closer and it became obvious it was an actual wolf.

  Gunnar grinned, hitching the dead wolf a little higher on his shoulders. The animal was bigger than a normal wolf, with pitch black fur. Its head flopped forward, face frozen in a garish snarl, eyes still open wide and glazed over. Dead eyes, yet...somehow, still hungry. Sort of the way Gunnar was looking at me now.

  I kept walking, bile rising in my throat. If only I had my phone to glance down at, anything to avoid making eye contact. Gunnar smiled, his eyes fixed on my face. For a moment, it seemed like he wasn't going to say anything at all. Like he’d keep walking. My heart lifted a little.

  At the last second, something caught my elbow hard.

  "Where are you going, queen's pet? At least say hello." He tugged on my elbow.

  I turned around, my body tense. He was hurting me, but I made sure to keep my face straight. If I showed him fear or pain, it would only make this more enjoyable for him. I didn’t know how I knew that. It was something about his face.

  Gunnar relaxed his grip, but he didn't let go. Somehow, he still managed to balance the dead wolf on his shoulders and hold on to me. "It's rude not to say hello. At least, that's what they tell me."

  "Well, then...hello." The words came out flat, but at least my voice didn’t shake. It was astonishing, since my insides were quivering.

  His face was too close to mine. Since the wolf's head was propped on his shoulder, the animal's face was right next to mine as well. Two sets of dead eyes staring straight at me.

  The nursery rhyme came back to me then. Who's afraid of the big, bad wolf?

  I am. I am very, very afraid.

  He didn't stop smiling. It was creepy on him. Unnatural. "Hello back."

  That was it, then. He was just toying with me. He didn't even have anything he wanted to say. No threats, no messages from Leif. A simple case of cat playing with mouse. Anger washed over me, and I let it come, trying to internalize it as a cold, hard force, not something that would make me hysterical. I tried to mimic the marble mask Queen Eira used.

  "You should stop trying," I said.

  Gunnar's smile faded slightly. "What?"

  "Smiling. It looks unna
tural on you." His smile vanished, and a surge of triumph rose up in my chest. I'd clearly caught him off guard.

  Gunnar's face went suddenly blank, and my triumph dissolved into a small, cold spot in my stomach. The fake smile might have looked fake, but at least it had been something. Now, his face was...empty, but somehow still cruel.

  "I guess you're not completely useless, then." Gunnar's grip on my elbow tightened. "At least you're observant."

  I couldn't help wincing this time. "What are you, a psychopath? Some kind of genetic freak?"

  He shrugged. "Both, I suppose. I'm modified by magic, designed for the special task force for the elite guard. But what I'm best at is...hunting." He flicked his gaze at the dead wolf on his shoulders. "I enjoy hunting."