I hid a satisfied smile. That was the sort of response I had been trying to achieve, and for some reason receiving it from him was enough.
He finally seemed to shake himself free of his stupefaction, moving toward me. But they must have been waiting on my arrival because the herald stepped forward again to announce the meal. The noise of voices and movement drowned out any attempt to talk, so I had to settle for taking Prince Oliver’s arm and allowing him to lead me into the banquet hall behind his parents.
The royal table sat on a small dais, and I had been given the place of honor beside the king. Oliver sat on my other side, but our proximity to King Leopold made any private conversation impossible. Instead, a general discussion of the various places of interest I might like to visit occupied us all. Although even that conversation often dropped into silence and required prodding from me to regain momentum.
I expressed my admiration and amazement at their capital city, and Oliver promised to take me on a tour the next day. Apparently I could be carried about on a special chair, but I assured him I was fit enough to make the journey on my own two feet, despite the steep inclines.
The topic of our recent abduction came up only briefly, and again King Leopold showed no great interest in our abductor.
“You don’t intend to enact any punishment on Lord Treestone?” I asked, my curiosity growing too much for me.
“Punishment?” The king raised both his eyebrows at me. “That hardly seems necessary when everything has turned out just fine.”
“The poor man is immured in the far south, away from the heart of our beautiful domain,” said Queen Camille. “Surely that is punishment enough.”
If she was making a joke, her expression didn’t show it. But I could hardly think she was serious.
Really? For treason? For abducting your own children? I closed my mouth on all the questions I wanted to ask. Hopefully I could get some answers from Oliver later. Except my confidence in that possibility had diminished somewhat as I watched him during the meal. The spark of concern and confusion that I had seen in him during our carriage ride—and even on our arrival at the palace—seemed to have disappeared. He nodded agreeably with his parents’ words, and I could detect no sign of deeper thought in his eyes.
Only when his gaze rested on me did I see that hint of warmth that had so animated his face for the brief period between the attack on our traveling party and our return to the capital. I hated to see him sinking back into frozen unconcern, and my frustration at this whole place was growing into a raging torrent inside me.
And yet, despite my feelings—and certainly without my control—every time his eyes rested on me with that glint of lingering fire, I felt an answering trail of warmth shoot from my chest down into my hands. Toward the end of the meal, he leaned in, after a particularly brilliant smile from me, to whisper something into my ear, and I felt his warm breath against my skin. Without warning, a puff of heated air swept around my hands, rattling the cutlery and crockery on the table in front of me.
I gasped and jumped, and Oliver gave me a strange look, glancing between the table and my face. I gulped and plastered the smile back in place, but his frown remained. Thankfully the king had been occupied in a quiet conversation with the queen and appeared not to have noticed.
Whatever this new power was, I needed to get it under control. And fast. I had thought desperation—or perhaps fear, or even anger—drew it out, but I felt none of those emotions now.
We talked of nothing of consequence for the rest of the meal, but the admiration in Oliver’s eyes had been joined by a lurking question. And though I still knew I needed to find a chance to talk to him, I now feared the questions wouldn’t all be coming from me. And I wasn’t ready to give this strange prince, who seemed to alternate between heat and ice, any answers of my own.
When the main courses had all been cleared away, desserts were brought out, accompanied by a long line of ice sculptures. The carved shapes were easily the most intricate and beautiful I had ever seen, and the king gave me permission to leave the dais and wander among the other tables to admire them.
Oliver accompanied me, introducing me to other diners seemingly at random. But their faces were all so bland and empty that I found myself struggling to keep the introductions straight—not a usual problem for me.
“We hold an annual ice carving competition every winter,” he told me when I stopped to admire a particularly beautiful one. “That was carved by this year’s winner. I wish you had been here to see it.”
I murmured polite agreement—and I would have liked to see the competition. But not at the expense of being here in the dead of winter. I shivered. The banquet hall itself was well heated, but I still found myself wishing for the bright flames of the fire in my chambers. Even in the warm palace, the cold seemed to find a way to creep icy fingers deep into my bones.
Oliver placed a light hand on the small of my back to lead me around another table, and his thumb brushed against my bare skin. A shot of fire burned through me, pushing out the earlier ice, and I barely refrained from jerking away. He looked back at me, something stirring in his eyes, and I forced a quick smile, pointing at another sculpture and taking the chance to put some distance between us.
But though we didn’t touch again, I could feel a coiling warmth brewing inside me for the rest of the evening. It filled me with a barely repressed excitement—a feeling bordering close on fear. My godmother had gifted me with something extraordinary, and I would learn its secrets and force it to obey me. I was determined.
When the evening finally ended, I said my goodnights with as much attention as I could muster and had turned toward my suite when Oliver’s voice spoke behind me.
“Do you know the way back on your own?”
I turned to him, realizing in my distraction that I hadn’t even considered how to get there. I thought I could probably find it. Maybe. I cast him a considering look.
“I’m not sure that I do, to be honest.” I smiled at him, looking up through my lashes. “I don’t suppose you would be willing to show me?”
“More than willing,” he said gallantly and offered me his arm.
I ignored it and fell into step beside him. I said nothing until we had left the others behind and found ourselves alone in yet another long corridor.
My smile fell away as I turned to him, still careful not to so much as brush against him. I didn’t want to accidentally set him on fire or something.
“What is going on Oliver? Lord Treestone attacked you. He abducted both your sisters, along with me—a royal guest under your protection—and your father intends to do nothing about it? Not even a show of punishment?”
He looked at me with the faintest hint of curiosity. “Are you offended Celine? I got the strong impression you were somewhat sympathetic to the renegade lord.”
I huffed in frustration, throwing up my hands. “No, I’m not offended! I’m frustrated. And confused. What is going on here? Because whatever it is, Lord Treestone is right—it’s certainly not natural.”
Oliver laughed softly. “Such heat, Your Highness! You’ll exhaust yourself.”
I stared at him in disbelief. Had I imagined the change I’d seen in him? The hesitation and curiosity when he told his story in the carriage?
But even as we stood there, our steps having faltered at some point during our exchange, I saw a light in his eyes as they roamed over my expression. I knew that anger brought color to my cheeks and a sparkle to my eye, and apparently he had noticed. My eyes narrowed. He had never noticed or admired me in Marin or Palinar when we had occasionally crossed paths. Something had definitely changed.
Without thought, I leaned forward and placed both my hands flat against his chest.
“Oliver, this is madness! Wake up!” And as I said the words, I pushed with all my mental might, willing him to snap out of whatever fog seemed to hold him captive. But it wasn’t my thoughts which rushed down my arms and out of my hands into his chest—it
was the warmth that had been building throughout the evening and roiling inside me.
For a moment he lit up almost as bright as daylight, a golden glow outlining his tall form. And then it was gone, and he was staggering back. For a step I moved with him, without thinking, and then I realized my hands were still pressed all too intimately against his muscular chest, and I stepped back myself.
We stood in silence, staring at each other, Oliver sucking in deep, gasping breaths.
“I…What…What happened?” he managed to choke out.
“I don’t know.” I bit my lip. “I don’t know.”
“What did you do to me?” He watched me with wide eyes.
I shrugged helplessly. “I really don’t know.” I took a deep breath. “But I do know something very strange has been happening in Eldon.” I watched him closely. “Do you see that?”
He blinked and rubbed a shaking hand across his face. “Yes…Yes…” His voice faltered, and he inhaled slowly, before dropping his hand and fixing me with a look that made me stumble back another step.
I had thought I saw warmth in his eyes during the attack on our traveling party, and again at Lord Treestone’s castle. But it was nothing to the way they lit his face now. The bright sapphire seemed like a flaming fire that transformed his pale face, and even his cheeks held more color now, too. If I had thought him coldly handsome before, it was nothing to how he looked now, his face alight with passion and strength.
He raised a hand to the side of his head as if it hurt him. “I remember…I remember meeting you in Marin, at the Princess Tourney. And again at the wedding in Palinar.”
He paused, and I nodded silently.
“But…” He shook his head. “I feel as if I hadn’t really seen you. You’re…” He flushed and looked away from me.
As he broke our eye contact, I took a deep breath and steadied myself. There could not be the faintest question now that something had been wrong with him before. This was not the same prince who I had met before. He wasn’t even the same one who had helped rescue us from the castle—although he was closer to that one.
He shook himself and stood taller, looking back toward me again. “All those memories, from before…they’re still there, but it’s like trying to remember something from a dream. It’s all hazy, and the details seem fuzzy.” He frowned. “My memories after the attack are stronger, although they start to fade again once we returned to the palace.”
I nodded. “You seemed different, then. More…active? To be honest, I hadn’t been expecting you to come rescue us.”
He sucked in a sudden breath, his hands balling into fists. “No one was coming to rescue you! And if I had not…” He turned to survey the empty corridor before spinning back to face me. “That so-called lord deserves to be whipped, and if my father does not intend to act…”
“No.” I shook my head quickly, stepping toward him although not quite far enough to bridge the gap between us. “Lord Treestone did not intend to harm us. I’m sure of that. He is worried for your kingdom—and can you really fault him for that?”
I watched him with raised eyebrows, and he slowly relaxed. At last he sighed.
“No, I suppose I cannot. Perhaps I should be glad that someone at least still seems to care about something. I cannot describe to you how it felt…as if nothing was worth the effort. As if nothing really mattered. At least how it felt until…” He looked over at me, and I quickly looked away. “Until you came here.”
Silence stretched between us.
“How did you do it, Celine? What did you do?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know.” It was the truth. Of sorts. But I wasn’t ready to share my secrets with this new prince who stood before me. His transformation seemed complete this time, and I hoped it would last. But he had changed too many times in the last few days for me to feel certain of anything.
“You were showing me to my rooms,” I said at last, gesturing down the corridor.
Reluctantly he nodded and resumed walking. I kept pace with him, sneaking sideways glances at this new Oliver. He seemed lost in thought, and I could hardly blame him. It must be a lot to take in.
When we reached my door, he took my hand. I flinched but didn’t pull away, and nothing happened. No heat, no fire, no golden glow. I drew a shaky breath and focused on his face.
“I will leave you for now, but we will talk again.”
A threat or a promise? It felt a little like both. I forced a smile. A promise I could handle, and I had never backed down from a threat before.
“You promised to show me the city tomorrow, remember? I’m sure there will be plenty of opportunity for talking then.”
He looked like he wanted to say more, but eventually he merely nodded, bowing over my hand. For a moment I thought he would kiss it, but his lips didn’t quite reach my skin.
As I closed the door behind me, I shook away a foolish feeling of disappointment. Until I learned to control this fire inside me, I was better off keeping a distance from this prince whose eyes seemed to burn as strongly as my new and unknown power.
Chapter 8
The next morning I dressed in a practical dress and my most comfortable boots. I had been working on my physical fitness ever since I got swept up in my older sister’s spy network at the age of fourteen, but those mountain roads looked steep. I didn’t want to disgrace myself.
I had slept badly. Once alone in my room, I tried to call on my new powers, but all my efforts to expel light or heat or wind from my hands ended in failure. And then my dreams had been haunted by the many different faces of the unexpected Prince Oliver. By the time I awoke, I was entirely uncertain which prince would greet me today.
But when we met in the entrance hall at mid-morning, one glance was enough to tell me that none of his new fire had dimmed. His eyes were bright and the aura of strength which I had seen for the first time only the night before remained.
Something in his eyes flashed at the sight of me, and he smiled, coming forward to greet me warmly.
“I’m glad to see I didn’t frighten you off last night.” He bowed over my hand.
I raised an eyebrow. “I’m not so easily scared, I assure you, Your Highness.”
“Oliver, please,” he said. “I remember enough to know that’s what you were calling me before, Celine.”
I shook my head at his bold use of my own name and conceded the point. I didn’t want to admit to him that I felt as if I were dealing with an entirely new person.
He led me out of the palace and around behind it. The palace wall only encircled the front and sides of the building, blending almost seamlessly into the mountain itself which guarded the rear of the palace. A steep road, wider than I had been expecting, zigzagged up the mountain, starting from the very back of the palace. A number of people traveled it, some pulling small carts, others leading slightly bigger carts pulled by goats. When I gazed upward, I even saw a lady being carried on an elaborate chair mounted on two long poles. The poles rested on the shoulders of four strong men, dressed as footmen in a livery I didn’t recognize.
Oliver followed my gaze. “It’s not too late if you would like me to fetch a chair for you.”
I grinned. “I’m no more feeble than I am easily scared. Oliver,” I added for good measure.
He laughed. “I suspected as much. In that case, let us be off.”
I needed every bit of my conditioning to keep from puffing as we wound our way up the mountainside using a maze of roads and stairs carved into the rock face. I could only be glad so many months had passed since my broken ankle, and that I had lost no time in regaining my shape once it healed. Oliver certainly showed no discomfort despite the steep inclines.
We passed every type of business from blacksmiths and grocers to tanners. Several roads were lined with shopfronts, replacing the more traditional market squares. They looked like normal buildings from the front, except they were so close to the mountain face it didn’t seem there could possibly be room inside to move
, let alone store any goods. But I soon saw that it was just as Oliver had told me when we arrived. The shops stretched back into the mountain itself, looking remarkably like an ordinary building from the inside except for the solid stone walls and lack of windows.
As we got higher, we found a number of noble residences, some of them using the same stone as the palace to decorate their facades. I supposed they could afford to position themselves higher up the mountain if they had servants to carry them up and down in chairs.
“Isn’t all of this snowed in during the winter?” I asked, as we wound through a less affluent section of the city where the building fronts crowded close together and contained little ornamentation. Some were no more than wooden doors and shutters over what looked like cave openings.
“This is one of the smallest mountains and is right at the foothills of our main range,” Oliver explained.
It didn’t look like a small mountain to me, but I hoped my face didn’t show my incredulity. Mists mostly obscured the far distance, but they had parted once to show me a glimpse of higher peaks behind.
“We get snow, of course,” he continued, “but not normally so much that it cannot be cleared from the roads. And with most of the buildings inside the mountain itself, even in the case of a heavy snowfall or avalanche, the people are out of harm’s way.”
“But wouldn’t they be trapped inside?”
“We have lived here for many generations now,” said Oliver. “All of the buildings connect to at least one tunnel. When the weather is truly bad, the palace can be cut off for several days, but the inhabitants of the city simply use the internal roads.”
The idea fascinated me, but I also hated the thought of going days without seeing the sun. Something of my distaste must have shown on my face because Oliver grinned.
A Crown of Snow and Ice: A Retelling of The Snow Queen (Beyond the Four Kingdoms Book 3) Page 6