Page 12 of Gifted to the Frost King

He lets the familiar voice wash over him, feeling something knitting back together and becoming whole.

Friend, the voice had called him. It’s odd. The beast cannot remember ever having one of those.

9

DOVE

Setting my fork next to my empty plate, I dare a glance at my silent dinner companion.

While the food had been delicious—no doubt magically prepared—it was nothing compared to Mama’s cooking. It lacked her most important ingredient: love. The food quality had been better than any I’d ever had—my steak was tender enough to cut with a fork—and yet I would gladly never taste it again to be sitting at my mother’s table once more. Both of us chatting happily while Sophia recounted some tale she thought up throughout the day.

Instead, I sit in a high-back chair with my stomach in knots. The Frost King seems more surly than this morning. He barely acknowledged my presence before ushering me to sit on the opposite side of the table. No pleasantries were exchanged. I merely picked up my fork and started eating.

My growling stomach had motivated me to eat without considering it could be poison. However, from what Glimmer said, I’m essential in uncovering what is happening here. I glance down at the knife next to my plate. It probably would’vebeen wise to search for a weapon. This dull blade would do minor damage against someone as powerful as the Frost King.

From my brief glance, I saw him staring at nothing. He hadn’t eaten anything, merely sipped from a goblet of wine and looked through me. It was unsettling, to say the least.

Suddenly, he jerks sharply. Unease prickles my neck as his eyes close. He shivers in his chair, thrashing slightly before he exhales.

His eyes pop open, and they are different—in fact, all of him seems changed.

His skin glows bright blue, and his eyes look less animalistic. He is almost human, especially in how he stares at me. Inhaling deeply, his nostrils flare. His mouth and muscles lose all their tension.

His eyes spark with recognition as a soft, apologetic smile curls his lips, and he ducks his head. I rear back in my chair, unsure what to make of this sudden transformation.

“I fear I have been unfair to you,” he states.

Even his voice is different—deep but softer, not as gravely. I blink at him, the only indication I’ve heard what he said. Despite my silence, he presses on.

“I…apologize for my behavior. That is not how I wanted your first impression of me to be.” He shakes his head, silver crown sparkling in the light. “You must be confused—scared. I mean you no harm, truly.”

Arching a brow, I can’t help my laugh of shock.

“You expect me to believe that?”

The Frost King cringes at my sharp tone.

“I know it’s hard to believe. I’ve given you no reason to trust my word, but I promise it’s true. I won’t hurt you.”

I remain silent as his gaze lingers on mine.

“Your purpose here cannot be overstated.”

I laugh once more, rolling my eyes.

“Is that what you tell all the tributes you’ve stolen?”

I’m surprised at my boldness. I should be falling to his feet and pleading for mercy, but I find myself needing to nettle him—to make him understand that I am no helpless captive. The minute my freedom is within my grasp, I will take it. Whether I figure out the mysteries afoot here or not.

The King looks away from me.

“I’ve never taken on before.”

My mouth falls open at his confession. What does this mean for me? Why have I been chosen?

“Before you ask me why I haven’t, don’t bother. I cannot say. Not yet, at least.”

Turning back towards me, he takes a sip of wine before exhaling another breath.

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