Page 17 of Gifted to the Frost King

Glancing down at the small child in his lap, the breath freezes in my lungs as I take in the young male’s sparkling blue eyes. The ones I saw at dinner. The King does not seem so scary as a small child. He was pretty adorable with his round cheeks, small pointy ears, and thick white curls. He’s dressed in a simple pair of blue silk pants and a matching shirt.

The older male holds him on his knee, the snowflake pendant dangling before the young male's dazzling eyes. The father looks at him warmly, but there’s a sadness swimming in his gaze.

“It was your mother’s,” the older male says softly. He hands it to the boy, letting it dangle from his tiny hand. “One day, it will be yours to bestow upon another.”

The young boy furrows his white brows. “But how will I know who to give it to?”

Blue lips pull into a grin before kissing the side of the young male’s head.

“You’ll know, my son,” he says gently. “The snowflake will guide you home. Even if all seems lost.”

The little elf’s eyes look away from the necklace and connect with mine. He gives a small gasp as something flashes in his gaze.

The memory around me disappears instantly as if I have been plucked from a bath. Once more, I am back inside this barren room, my fingers still resting atop the necklace. The snowflake glows brightly and warms my fingers. Gently, I lift it from the pillow and hold it before myself. Is this the key the King had been referring to? Let’s hope so.

Even with that glimpse of his memory, I’m still at a loss for what happened here, nor do I know what I am supposed to do to solve what’s afflicting the land. Will returning this necklace be the answer? I can only pray the solution is that simple. I tuck the necklace into my robe pocket and lift the glowing stone in my hand again.

The wooden table creaks and snaps before disintegrating into a pile of dust carried away on a breeze. As the room begins to tear itself apart, I quickly make my way back out through the door and into the corridor. The blue paint on the door flakes off further until the wood splinters before melting into the gray stones of the wall.

As if nothing had ever been there.

Making my way back up the corridor, the memory I had just witnessed leaves me reeling. Something about it nags at me, begging me to look deeper, but I don’t know how. What was I supposed to uncover from that interaction between the King as a child and his father? Is his father somehow responsible for what happened here? I saw nothing but love between the two, even if the older male was still mourning the mother of his child.

The pounding in my head comes back with a vengeance as I, at last, make it back to my room. Returning to the window, I push the stone back into place with a click. The door at the wallrumbles before swinging shut and blending into the wall—no trace of the opening to be found.

I kick off my slippers and crawl into bed.

We’ve never heard stories of another Frost King. That memory must’ve been from some time ago. Its significance cannot elude me forever, but for now, sleep beckons. As I turn on my side, I feel the snowflake necklace in my pocket resting along my hip and pulsing with power.

It pins me to the bed as if it carries the weight of a million secrets.

12

DOVE

Tiny hands pinch my cheeks and tickle my nose.

I half-heartedly swat at them. It’s too early. Even with my eyelids closed, I can tell bright sunlight is streaming into my room. Another pinch is delivered to my nose, and I swipe a hand at the one pestering me.

“Watch it!” Glimmer’s squeaky voice snarls in my ear.

“Go away,” I mumble. Burrowing into a pillow, I try to ignore her ever-present buzzing. “I’m sleeping.”

I don’t have to see Glimmer to know she’s turned a deep shade of blue.

“Get up,” she declares. “Your breakfast is getting cold.”

My grumbling stomach rouses me, and I peek one eye open. With a sigh, I crawl out from my warm swath of blankets. The sunlight is blazing. Not pulling back the curtains after last night’s adventure was a mistake. My eyes adjust slowly until a small, sparkling figure comes into view.

Glimmer grins at me, her tiny teeth looking extra sharp this morning.

“Morning,” she chirps.

“Morning,” I say, stretching my arms above my head.

Despite having slept on the most luxurious mattress, my muscles feel sore. All that magic traveling over mountains, through walls, andnowinto the past clearly takes a toll on the human body. Kicking my feet over the side of the bed, I shove them in my slippers and follow Glimmer’s gossamer wings over to the sitting area before the fireplace.

The snapping flames send licks of heat over my body. Glancing down at the silver tray, it is laden with all manner of breakfast items. There are eggs—a delicacy back in my village—salt-cured pork, thick slices of pale-colored cheese, steaming rolls, and two different types of jam.

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