A Heart of Ice

by Phoenix Briar

  “Dena!” I cry with exasperation. She turns back to look at me, curious and unsettled. I sigh, softening my voice. “Dena…this is all very lovely but…I cannot possibly stay here…This is—was—Catherine’s room.”

  “Exactly,” Dena says. I open my mouth again, but she cuts me off, “Scarlet, Catherine is gone—Chelyah keep her—and this room has been laying here collecting dust. It is not good. Not for Gabriel. Not for Enté. This is just the excuse we needed to clear this whole room out so that it no longer bears resemblance to her.” She sighs and watches me sadly. “I loved Rin too…she was like my big sister… but…but, she’s gone, Scarlet…and I don’t want to look at her things anymore in this room.” She smiles sadly. “Rin would…would be so happy to have this room used again. She took such great care with her things.”

  I don’t have the heart to tell her no again. I sigh and mutter, “Well…can we just change the colors, then…if we’re going to change everything? I feel like I am in some sort of child’s fantasy room with all the frills.”

  Dena laughs. “Of course!” she cries. “We’ll have new bedcovers and curtains brought in, and we’ll get rid of the other things.”

  I panic a bit. “But what of Catherine’s pretty trinkets, and…and those lovely paintings?”

  Dena smiles patiently. “We won’t throw them away. We are girls, you know. Gabriel told us that we could divide the trinkets and paintings among our own rooms…that way she will be a part of all of us instead of stuffed into this room all alone.”

  I sigh and give a little smile. “Alright…”

  “How are things going?” Petara asks from behind me. I turn around and look at her.

  “Splendidly!” Dena chimes with a grin. “She can’t say ‘no’ to me either!” She manipulated me! She knew damn well too!

  Petara laughs. “Can anyone? You’re so spoiled, Dena. Even Claque gives in to your whims. You’re impossible.” I flinch at the name of her Teir, feeling my heart pound, but I say nothing of the matter, watching Dena grin unrepentantly, and I smile. Petara looks over at me then, “Well?”

  I raise a brow. “It…is lovely.”

  She smiles a bit and shakes her head, “That was not what I meant, but it will do. I am sure Dena has told you that we will change the decorations to suit your tastes? I do not think that we could come by any Inferno items but…the colors should not be as hard to come by. The darker colors are not common here, but we do trade with the Flora, and they carry darker dyes.”

  I sigh with relief. It will be good to see colors of my homeland again. “Thank you…and if it is not too much trouble…I really am not used to a bed. It is wonderful, but perhaps for someone else? At home, I slept on pallets of furs…”

  They both look alarmed at first before Petara gives an uncertain smile and says noncommittally, “I’ll see what I can do…but for now, come. I am sure Dena has been showing you around.” She heads into a room off of the bedroom where a little parlor is settled. She pulls the sheets off things, revealing a table with four chairs, a fainting couch, a few chairs, and a hearth! I am delighted to see the hearth and wonder if they would mind it being stoked—before servants come in to do just that. Perhaps I’ll make this my bedroom instead so that I can sleep by the fire.

  While Petara sets the sheets aside for the maids to collect, she rearranges a bit and finally settles herself down in one of the stuffed chairs. “The first thing we are going to teach you,” says the woman, rubbing her belly affectionately with a sigh, “is basic Crystalice manners.” Servants come and go from the room, stoking the fire, taking up the sheets, cleaning up the room a bit. Some maids come in with two ornate pots of tea and three delicate matching cups and saucers. One of the pots, I can tell, is steaming hot, and the other chilled. Hot tea sounds wonderful at the moment.

  I look to Petara when the servants are gone. “Manners?”

  She smiles a bit. “Of course. You are a member of the royal family now, my dear. You will be expected to know our customs: how to behave at social gatherings, how to host a party, how to play hostess to ladies in your parlor. You know how to be an Inferno lady. I will teach you how to be a Crystalice lady.”

  I blanch. “But I’ve no need for such skills.”

  She narrows her eyes a bit. “You have need now,” she argues. “I do not care what my mother says—you are Gabriel’s ward, and as such, you will carry yourself with the utmost integrity and honor. Do you understand me, Scarlet?”

  I go very stiff, looking over at Dena and then back to her older sister. “Are you certain this is your first child?”

  Petara gives a wry smile. “As the oldest daughter and the mistress of this castle, I have often made it a priority of mine to educate my younger sister and to discipline my younger brothers.” I give a tight smile. Well, this should be fun. “So,” she says and gestures to the tea waiting on the table; we are alone now. “You have a choice, Scarlet. You can either allow me to teach you our ways and become a member of our family, our society. Or you can refuse and forever remain our enemy, a polite prisoner in our home.” I glance to the delicate pots and cups. “Well?” Petara folds her hands in her lap impatiently.

  I look back to her. “I…do not know how to serve tea.”

  She gives me a strange look. “You do not drink tea at home?”

  I shrug. “We do, but in big, stone mugs that you hold with both hands.”

  “Oh…” Petara sighs and rubs her temples. “Very well then. I suppose I should explain…a pot of hot tea has been brought for your comfort, but more likely, you will be serving iced tea.”

  “Iced?” I ask a bit fearfully.

  She gives a single nod. “I suggest leaving your gloves on. Now, the tea is already sweetened, so you do not need to worry about that. It is very simple. You merely make certain that the cups are always full. Only fill the cup three-fourths of the way—”

  “But the cups are so small!” I cry, looking down at them with dismay.

  She sighs. “Yes, which is why you must pay attention to the level. You never want a cup to be more than one-fourth empty. If it gets that low, unless the guest is still drinking, immediately pick up the pot and offer more. If a guest lays their cup down upside down on the saucer, then they will take no more tea.”

  I am rubbing my temples and glaring at the pot and cups from the corner of my eyes. “So,” Petara continues, “Let us say that we are your guests and we have just sat down.” Dena is giggling from her seat, and I shoot her a nasty look before looking back to Petara. “What would you say?”

  “Go away?” I offer.

  Dena snorts. Petara glares at her, then at me. “No. You would say something along the lines of: may I offer you ladies—or lords if they are present—a cup of tea?—go on, ask.”

  I give her a sour look and sigh. With a roll of my eyes, I mutter, “May I offer you a cup of tea?”

  Petara is not amused. “Do not roll your eyes. Smile, just a bit, and give a very slight curtsy. Keep your voice softer—speak clearly, Scarlet.”

  My face feels hot. So does my blood. My heart is pumping. I take in a breath and give a little curtsy. I soften my voice, but it is still tight, when I snip, “Would you like a cup of tea?”

  “We’ll work on that,” Petara says, and continues without fault, “They should all accept, at which point you will take one cup and saucer—go on, pick one up.” I turn and pick up a thin, porcelain saucer, the cup teetering on top. I swallow, staring at the cup as if it might fly away. “Do not stare at the cup,” Petara chastises, and I look up at her before nearly stumbling and looking right back to the cup again. “They are not that fragile,” she sighs. “Just carry it gently over to me, smile, and hand it to me.” I’m glowering at the cup by the time I carefully hand it to Petara, looking up, and giving a menacing smile.

  I delight in the small shiver that elicits from her. “Try not to glare.” She sighs, holding the saucer. “Now, you don’t want to leave me sitting here with an empty cup, so go and get the
pot.” I go back to the table and grab the pot with cold tea in it. From inside, there is a fragile, clattering sound.

  “Ah!” I yelp, alarm, and drop the pot. Petara thrusts out her hand swiftly, and the pot teeters in the air uncertainly for a moment before setting itself back on the table. My heart is pounding so much that I cannot even think to notice Petara’s rare gift for manipulative Magik. “What was that sound!” I cry, looking over at her with surprise. “In the pot. What—”

  “Ice.” Petara frowns at me. Dena holds her breath to keep from giggling.

  “Ice?” I ask hesitantly, looking confused at Petara.

  The woman sighs and gives a little smile. “Yes, Scarlet. The tea will have ice in it. It’s all right. Pick it up and try again.” And so I sigh and go back to the pot, opening the lid and looking inside. Sure enough, there are little chunks of ice clattering against the sides of the pot. I blush with shame.

  Putting the lid back in place, I pick the pot up by the handle, my other hand at my side. “When did you discover that you have the Gift?” I ask, turning back to her, eyes on the pot.

  “No, no,” Petara says, watching me. “Put your other hand under the pot. It will make it more balanced.” I glance up at her, then bring up my other hand underneath the pot to steady it, making my way to her. “And I was a young girl. My grandmother had the Gift as well.” The Gift is a rare talent for a Magik that is able to move objects and Shift into forms other than the natural. I reach her and begin to tip the pot towards the cup. “No. Stop. Stop.” I look up at her. “You’re going to tip the lid off, and tea is going to go everywhere. Take your hand off the bottom and gently hold the lid on while you pour.” I sigh and do as I am told, pouring the tea. “Not so fast! Not so fast! That’s enough!” I bring the pot up quickly, hearing the ice clatter around in it, and Dena is openly laughing now.

  Petara sighs as if put through a dangerous ordeal and come out alive. She takes a careful sip of her ‘overfilled’ cup and then looks back to me. “Good, now one for Dena. And try not to take all day.”

  I sigh and go back to the table, set down the pot, and collect a teacup and saucer. “Why are you laughing?” I mutter to Dena when I hand her the cup.

  She grins. “Because I had to do this too.” She laughs and I smile a bit, filling her cup. Every now and again, Petara pipes up with a ‘don’t lean so far over!’ or a ‘make sure that you smile’. I am about ready to throw the pot at her. Finally, I take the pot of hot tea, fill my own cup and saucer, put in a cube of sugar, and sit down in my own stuffed chair, pulling my legs up beside me.

  “Scarlet,” Petara cries, offended. “Get your feet out of the chair, madam. Your feet stay on the floor, crossed at the ankles, and do not curl up so. Sit up straight. You may lean back a bit, but your shoulders need to be straight and your head needs to be up.”

  I correct my posture with an irritated sigh and growl, “And women actually enjoy these sort of gatherings?”

  “Very much so,” Petara answers, and just as I resettle myself with my cup of hot tea and raise it to my lips, she calls, “Dear, my cup is empty. That is very poor manners.” I look up at her over the rim of my cup, and my eyes threaten murder.

  Chapter Twenty Eight

  Gabriel

  I can hear the women in the other room. Sitting at my desk, I try to focus on the papers in front of me, new legislation needing to be revised and resubmitted. I am about halfway through the page when I hear a sudden cry from the other room. My head snaps up in alarm, and I still my thoughts so that I can hear Cara clamor about her tea pot. Ice. She had been startled by ice in the pot. I laugh warmly and stand up, clasping my hands behind my back and wandering closer to the wall where their voices carry.

  I find myself delighting in the sound of them. Petara in her usual way is barking commands more firmly and as unforgiving as many Knight Protectors that I have met. I can practically feel Cara’s agitation and growing exasperation, and sometimes I do not need to, for she tells Petara as much. Dena is laughing over it all, sniggering at the pains she had gone through herself many years ago before her coming-of-age party. I smile to myself, crossing my arms and leaning my brow against the cool, stone wall, just listening.

  All day, it continues, Cara serving tea and being corrected on her posture, on how to entertain her guests and not have them grow bored. Petara is a relentless teacher. She can find fault in anything, and although Cara doesn’t know it—and certainly wouldn’t believe it—I know that Petara is going easy on her. Cara struggles and mutters through the whole ordeal.

  I keep returning to my desk, staring down at my papers. But I find myself reading the same line over and over again until I sigh. Trying to clear my head, I begin pacing the room, but then I hear a burst of Dena’s laughter and know that Cara has said something outlandish again, and I listen to see if I can hear what it is.

  That pattern carries through most of the day. I struggle through that last bit of legislation and write up my revisions, but it takes the whole of the day what should have only taken me an hour. I listen as my sisters leave to go and freshen up for dinner, and I stand up at last. I need to do the same, and I want to see how Cara is doing.

  She is face-up on the fainting couch when I enter, and I smile ruefully at her while I adjust the cuffs of my shirt. She eyes me and grumbles, “I do not wish to ever drink tea again. I am so full of tea and tired of serving it. Why must there be such stupid rules for serving tea? It is only a drink!”

  I chuckle and sink into a stuffed chair beside her, sighing heavily and smiling to myself. “It is not about the tea,” I tell her. “It is about the guests. How you serve the guests and how well determines their importance to you. If you are very courteous and careful to a guest, they will feel appreciated. Doing the opposite will offend them.”

  She turns her head back so that she can look at me, an irritated sort of expression tugging at her lip. “In my country, we show respect to our friends by inviting them into our homes and allowing them to serve themselves. It shows familiarity and a closeness between us.”

  I smile easily at her. “Just as well, Cara. Perhaps Petara and Dena would appreciate such attitudes with time as they come to know you better, but others will not. And it will be important for you to make the right impression so that you can better assimilate.”

  “I do not wish to assimilate,” she counters and sits up, red hair tumbling down her back. “I am not a Crystalice, Gabriel. I never will be. Why is it that you wish to change me? I will not do it. You cannot make me something that I am not.”

  My smile falls, and I stand up, going to her. With her back turned to me, I come up behind her and murmur, “I do not wish you to be anything else.” I could lean my chin on the top of her head if I wanted, but I do not.

  She turns and looks at me with those golden eyes. Her brows knit together, and her lips turn in an impertinent sort of manner. “Then what in the hell is all of this for? And why have I even been made your ward, Gabriel? What—”

  A soft knock at the door breaks her words. “The king and queen are leaving for supper, sire,” calls the guard.

  I sigh and look back to her, tipping up her chin gently. “Another time, Scarlet. For now, freshen up for dinner. You look tired.”

  She glares at me and abruptly turns and leaves the room, slamming the door shut so that I have to go out through the hall and go back around to my own bedroom—she had shut that door as well. I can’t imagine what I said to her, but I don’t have the time to debate with her either. Adjusting my shirt and pulling on my doublet, I tie back my hair and step into my boots, strapping them. It’s not a formal dinner, but I need to be presentable.

  I knock on Cara’s door, but the guard tells me that she had already left for supper, and so I head down to the dining hall. I hurry there, but the sight of her stops me still. She stands at the top of the stairs, frozen in place. The whole room is silent, watching her, and she stands there, looking so small and terrified in her gold and russet gown.
The guests are not many. My parents and sisters, their Teir, the castle steward, the lords and ladies in waiting, who are more like companions to their royals than servants. I no longer tolerate companions, but my lord-in-waiting still sits with the others at the lower end of the table. It really is a small dinner, but Cara is trembling.

  I move to her side and smile easily, catching her attention and offering my arm. Her eyes meet mine—wide, terrified, but then she takes a small, hesitant smile and accepts my arm. Armies of foes and threats of death leave her completely calm, but dinner with my family has her shaking. I lead her down to supper where she sits more silently than I have ever seen her for a long period of time, letting Dena talk quietly about the different types of food available. She eats little. I sit at her side. Usually, I would be across from my mother, to my father’s right, and beside me would be Claque, across from him, Dena. But Claque had tactfully been moved beside Dena instead, and Petara had switched places with Kale so that Scarlet is surrounded by companions. Even still, she eats little and speaks only enough to be polite.

  As soon as the first person leaves the table, Dena and the younger ladies-in-waiting, Scarlet stands as well and quickly leaves. No…she will never be a Crystalice…this will never be home. I share a look across the table with my mother, and neither of us speak, the same haunted look in our eyes. And neither of us look to my father who has not spoken a word to me since I made Scarlet my ward.

  Chapter Twenty Nine

  Scarlet

  After dinner, I collapse into bed. I once complained over being locked into my room for so long, but suddenly seeing all of those Crystalice, being surrounded by them…it was horrifying. I collapse into my pillow nearly as soon as I crawl into bed, barely taking the time to strip out of my outer dress…and I dream of war. I dream of the battle. Not any specific one. They all blur together. But I remember being on horseback…I am unseated by a Crystalice. I hear the screams of my horse as he turns on his side and crashes to the ground. I see the Crystalice’s blue eyes right in my face, pupils dilated. His blood splatters against my helm when I thrust my sword into his chest.