Frost must’ve noticed something was different, that his coat was undone, for she turned her head, studying him in the darkness. She rolled, giving Blue her back as a hand reached below his coat, running over the tunic his chest. His muscles tensed beneath her cautious touch, and Douglas carefully pulled her closer, setting a hand on her lower back and pulling her into him.
She let out a shaky sigh. “You’re so warm, Douglas.” The way she said his name, musical notes to his ears. He wanted her to say it again, in that same bare whisper. Frost buried herself beneath his coat, the hand roaming his chest moving to his side, pulling their midsections together.
She was a snowflake, light and feathery, unique in every way, liable to disappear. Frost was not at all what he’d expected Princess Eliora to be, but in a good way. In the best way. In a way that made him want to forget about any jobs after this one. This woman was one in a million, and Douglas would have to be stupid if he failed to see it.
Frost was so cold. He had no idea how her body could function while she was so cold, but he was glad to offer up some of his body heat to her, provided she didn’t take all of it. He did need some for himself, after this night was said and done, but he would give her as much as she needed.
Holding her felt right. It was indescribable. It felt like something he was born to do—which was preposterous, because the only other thing he’d ever felt so comfortable doing was swinging his sword. He was a warrior by birth, and Frost…Frost felt like she already belonged to him.
By all the kingdoms, Douglas was so stuck inside his own head, he wasn’t sure which way was up and which way was down. Were the others so affected by her, or was it just him?
Chapter Seven
When Noel woke up the next morning, the last thing he expected to see was Douglas and Frost together. Their clothes were still on, thankfully, but his coat had come undone, most likely on purpose, and she was snug against his chest, sound asleep, with Blue against her back. Douglas’s frame engulfed her; she looked like a child beside him.
Something ached in his chest, and he pushed it off, figuring he was hungry. Yeah, that was it. No time to hunt for a morning meal, though. They had to get moving. There would be plenty of food at the forward camp.
As he got up and did his business away from the still-sleeping figures, Noel nearly jumped out of his skin when Hale appeared, bow slung across his back, his dark eyes suspicious. “What?” Noel asked, grumpy. He was a bit louder than he intended to be, but at this point, he didn’t care if he woke Douglas and Frost. It was high past time they got up, anyway.
Hale studied him in silence for a few moments, knowing precisely what to say to irritate him. “You’re upset seeing them together, because you want to be in his place.”
“That’s not—no,” Noel spoke firmly. “No. I don’t. I’m just…” He was floundering, and sounding like he was guilty of exactly that. So, more carefully, more slowly this time, he said, “I simply wonder why Douglas thinks it’s a good idea to get so close with her. Once the job is done…” He couldn’t even finish the damn sentence.
“We still have a long way to go,” Hale remarked, glancing over his shoulder. Through the snow, back at camp, Douglas and Frost were slowly stirring, finally waking up. “Things might change, Noel.”
Hence the issue. Noel didn’t want things to change. Things were good, at least where he was at. At least…at least until he’d found Frost.
He and Hale returned to camp as Douglas was busy strapping up his coat. Frost herself looked un-flummoxed, though her cheeks were a bit pink. It was the first time Noel had seen color on her cheeks the entire time he’d known her. But here was the problem: Noel didn’t want Douglas to be the root of that color. He wanted it to be from him.
Damned jealousy. It had no place here.
Douglas saw that Hale and Noel were watching, coughing as he adjusted himself and went to grab his sword. As he readied himself to start the day’s journey, Noel couldn’t help but ask, “Sleep well, friend?” And even though he knew jealousy had no place here, between them, a hint of it crept into his voice.
“Well enough,” Douglas said, meeting his stare.
Noel was about to say more, but Hale shook his head, stopping him. Hale always knew when to end things. He was the logical one of the group, always thinking, always watching and observing. Of course he wouldn’t be jealous. Hale would simply say something along the lines of: jealousy was a useless emotion that only caused distress. True enough, Noel supposed. Plus, he had no reason to feel any bits of jealousy. Frost was not his. They were not together, and they never would be. She was a job, and a princess to boot. He was just a man.
“We should get going,” Noel said once everyone was ready. He met eyes with Frost, and he had to turn away, starting to lead the group, heading towards the rising sun.
Springvale was a kingdom of many colors. Flowers of all kinds always in bloom, temperate weather that often gave way to rain, and creatures galore. The very opposite of the wintery wasteland Wysteria was. It was Noel’s home, just as it was Douglas’s and Hale’s. The guild usually kept its jobs inside Springvale’s borders, for its influence was not as strong in other kingdoms, so taking this job had been unexpected.
But then again, who could ever turn down a queen? When a queen asked Noel to do something, he hopped to it. Royalty had wealth and soldiers on their side, and Queen Amara was well-loved by everyone. No one in their right mind would’ve said no to her. Refusing the job simply wasn’t a possibility, which brought him to Frost.
Frost. Noel should not be thinking of her so much, but he did, and he couldn’t help but wonder if the others thought about her, too.
It was just before midday when they came across the border. It was a magical border, if ever there was one, simply because the cold, the snow and the ice stopped. The winter gave way to warmth and green grass just like that. One could draw a line between the two kingdoms, and it was a line the snow would never cross, odd and curious as it was.
Noel was the first to step across the border, instantly feeling warmer. Douglas and Hale were beside him in an instant, and almost immediately, they worked to take off their coats, having no need for them here. They wouldn’t need them again until after Frost met with Queen Amara, until after she agreed to help.
“How I’ve missed this,” Douglas muttered, having struck his claymore in the ground in order to shrug off his coat and fasten it to his back, a bit like a cape. The sun, unobstructed by clouds, glimmered on his black hair, giving it almost a blue sheen.
“The forward camp should be close,” Noel said. He’d taken off his coat, but kept on his hood and his face mask. Some habits died hard. He heard a low whining, and turned to look at Blue. The wolf stood, half over the border, his tail end still in the snowy Wysteria. His stare rested on Frost, who held onto her elbows as she gazed around, at the bright colors. She probably hadn’t seen live grass in years. Everything in Wysteria was either dead or dormant.
Frost was rooted in place, a look of worry on her pale face. Her lips were drawn together, and she bit the inside of her cheek. Was she having second thoughts? Would she change her mind and start running away again? Her mouth parted slightly as she whispered, “I can’t do this.” Ah, that lovely self-doubt.
Moving towards her while remaining in the warmth of Springvale, Noel nodded once. “You can do this. Trust yourself, Frost.” After witnessing her losing control, he truly had no idea whether or not anyone could trust the woman…but he wanted to. Oh, how badly he wanted to.
Her vibrant eyes closed, and she had an inner war with herself. A battle only she could win. Noel knew nothing he could say would make her believe in herself; how could his words mean anything when she’d spent so long alone?
After what felt like the longest while, Frost’s eyes opened, meeting his stare. “Your gloves,” she said. “Give me your gloves.” Her head was held high, and she was almost like a queen, demanding his gloves.
Noel grinned, though he knew
she couldn’t see it. “Bossy, aren’t you?” he mused, undoing the small belts that held his gloves in place. They would be big on her, but if they made her feel better, he would not begrudge her of them. “Lucky for you, Princess, I like to be bossed around.”
She snatched the gloves from him, shooting him a deathly glare. “How many times must I tell you not to call me that?” Frost slid on the gloves, her fingers smaller and thinner than his. The fabric hung loose on her, but she didn’t seem to mind. “I am not a princess any longer.”
“You were born a princess,” Noel told her. He refrained from saying she would die a princess, mostly because he did not want to think about her death. It was…a scenario that hurt him more than he’d like.
“Princesses take care of their kingdoms,” Frost muttered. She left the rest unsaid, but Noel knew what she meant. Princesses take care of their kingdoms, while she let hers fall into a cold, eternal abyss of winter. Fair enough.
Noel said nothing more, extending his hand to hers. His bare palm tingled in the sun, soaking in the light that it had missed ever since trudging into Wysteria to track Frost down. All of this was for her; there was no moving on without her. He watched as Frost’s gaze fell to his outstretched hand, and then to the green grass on the ground. Not a tree in sight; they were smack-dab in the middle of a large plain.
It was a moment before Frost tentatively outstretched her hand, her fingers sliding against his. Noel knew it was less about touching him, and more about accepting that she was leaving Wysteria. She was, in all likelihood, afraid that she would hurt this kingdom as she’d hurt hers. Noel wouldn’t let that happen.
Heaving a shaky sigh, Frost stepped over the border of Wysteria, coming into Springvale for the first time. Blue was by her side through it all, the wolf never tearing its stare from her. That creature cared for her massively. She was lucky to have him. At least she had Blue; at least she wasn’t wholly alone in Wysteria. Still, a life with a wolf was nowhere near what a life with another human would be. A life with a man.
That…that was not something Noel should think about either. There were a lot of topics he had to steer his mind from, apparently.
Still holding onto Noel’s hand, Frost looked all around. Her white leather outfit looked almost out of place, surrounded by so much green. Then she looked between Noel, Douglas, and Hale, splitting her gaze between the three of them evenly. “If I…” She paused, taking a moment to breathe in deeply. “If I do something that puts Springvale in danger, promise me you’ll end it.”
No one responded, mostly because of the shock. Noel’s fingers tightened around hers. “Frost…” He could say no more, for he could not imagine ending it. Ending her. It was a thought that didn’t seem to register in his brain. Even after seeing what cruelty she was capable of with that Fenburn soldier, he not once thought about killing her. It didn’t seem like it was in the realm of possible scenarios.
“Please,” she continued, sounding firm, “promise me. I do not wish to hurt another kingdom like I hurt Wysteria. Just promise me.” When none of them answered her, she stated, “I will not go forward until you promise me.”
“Alright,” Hale whispered, nodding once, causing both Douglas and Noel to glance at him sharply. “We promise.”
Noel wanted to yell at him, ask him how he could promise such a horrible thing, but it seemed to placate Frost, for her shoulders relaxed. He let her hand pull from his, watching as she tugged on the gloves.
“Thank you,” she said. “Now, let us carry on.”
They took up walking once again. All the while, as they traversed across the plains, Noel couldn’t stop thinking about the exchange. If it came down to it, would he be able to end her? Would he be able to kill her? He didn’t know. Did it make him weak to not know? The last thing Noel wanted to be was weak. Weakness was something he’d given up long ago, when he agreed to become the guild’s hand in all matters of stealth.
Noel hadn’t known Frost for long, but she was inching her way inside of him. She was becoming his weakness.
The forward camp was not too far. Soon enough, they headed over a small hill, and they were able to view the camp in its entirety from its peak. Two dozen tents, one larger than all the others. Soldiers roamed the field, on constant alert. It was not a huge force, but Noel knew these men and women were the best warriors and defenders this kingdom had to offer. They would not leave their queen defenseless.
When Noel and the group moved closer to the tents, the nearby soldiers’ attention shifted to them. Most of them wore no helmets, so it was blatantly obvious who they gawked at. Not so much them as Frost. The lost princess of Wysteria, the magic-wielding human. Truly, Frost was a legend. She was a legend even before Wysteria’s fall.
As they headed to the largest tent directly in the center of the camp, Noel heard various mutterings. “They got her,” “I had my doubts,” and “Pay up” being a few of them. It seemed they made quite a few bets as to whether or not Noel, Douglas, and Hale would find her. He couldn’t blame them. Finding a single person in a kingdom full of snow and ice was madness. It’d taken them a long time, but they managed to do it just fine.
So had the Fenburn soldiers, but that was another matter entirely. First they’d bring Frost to Queen Amara, and then fill her in on the Fenburn situation. Stentar could not be allowed to find the Jewel or get his filthy, greedy hands on Frost.
Two rather large guards that could maybe stand toe-to-toe with Douglas stood outside Queen Amara’s tent. They held onto spears, at attention, though their eyes did bulge a bit when they spotted Frost standing behind Hale and Douglas.
Frost herself looked uneasy, like she was about to be sick. Her pale flesh looked pallid, so colorless she looked unhealthy. Her gaze shifted back and forth, as if she did not trust herself to be around so many people at once. Understandable, given her past. This was all new to her, and Noel hoped she’d be okay. Causing her stress was the last thing he wanted to do.
“We come bearing a princess,” Noel spoke to the guards, who let them pass with a nod of their heads. Frost was so out of it, so lost in her own anxieties, she didn’t even bother trying to scold him for calling her a princess.
Queen Amara’s tent was certainly a tent fit for a queen. It had actual furniture, a real bed, and a bunch of other things that were lugged out here just for her. A desk, for example, where a map sat, held down by golden weights. A map of Wysteria, Noel noticed.
Queen Amara herself stood on the other side of the desk, leaning over the map, a pensive look on her face. At their entrance, she glanced up, straightening the moment she saw who they were. Noel, Douglas, and Hale wandered in, hiding Frost from her sight.
Amara was a pretty woman, a few years younger than Frost. Her face was rounder, more heart-shaped, and her hair was a warm auburn color. Her cheeks were littered with freckles, and her eyes shone like two emeralds. She wore a loose tunic, and trousers that were not fit for a queen. Out here, Noel supposed, comfort reigned supreme.
“Well?” Amara asked, her voice catching. “Did you find her?” The hope nestling deep inside her was evident.
Noel glanced to Douglas and Hale, and together they stepped aside, revealing Frost to her. Frost stood, hugging herself, uneasy as she met her sister’s gaze. It was not the sisterly reunion Noel imagined it would be. For a long while, neither woman moved, neither one blinked. Blue let out a whine, plopping himself on the ground, resting his snout on his white paws. But no one paid any attention to the wolf. Everyone’s eyes were on Frost, even Noel’s. It was hard not to look at her, not to watch her, not to fear for something to happen.
Frost herself had begged them to agree to end her should her magic flare up and threaten Springvale. Hale had been the only one to agree. This—this was the test of that.
Fingers tapping on her desk, Amara commanded, “Leave us.”
Her word, as their queen, should have been all they needed to leave the tent, but it wasn’t. Noel and the others moved their stares to F
rost, lingering longer than they should’ve. The only reason they left the tent was because Frost gave them a tiny, almost imperceptible nod, telling them it was okay to go. She would face her sister alone, though Blue would remain by her side. If something were to happen, Noel knew Blue was smart enough to run and find them.
Noel heaved a sigh as he turned and headed out of the tent, Hale and Douglas shortly behind.
Frost. She would be okay. She had to be. Both Springvale and Wysteria depended on it.
Chapter Eight
Seeing her sister again was not something Frost ever thought she’d do. Mostly because, prior to encountering Noel and the others, she’d thought Amara was gone. Dead, caught in the spell that swallowed the entire kingdom. Not once, in the years that went by, had she ever thought her sister had lived. Yet here she was, a queen. A queen with no crown and no fancy jewels, a queen who wore dirty trousers like any other commoner, but a queen nonetheless.
Amara did not look as Frost remembered, though she knew it was simply because so much time had passed. So much time had crawled by. Time had been kind to Amara. Her cheeks were rosy and her appearance, clothes aside, was anything but sad. It would seem time had only been cruel to Frost.
“Eliora,” Amara muttered, slow to push herself off the desk, moving around it with a deliberate kind of sluggishness. Her green eyes studied her, taking in her white leather, the wolf lounging just behind her feet.
Frost was about to say something, correct her, because she hated that name—it just reminded her of her past, what she’d done and what she’d lost—but Amara stunned her by rushing to her and throwing her arms around her.
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