Page 24 of Gifted to the Frost King

My eyes widen as I take in the wonder of this room. It stretches back as far as the eye can see. Long work tables with plush chairs line the center before tapering off into a grand fireplace surrounded by leather loveseats. A large painting of the Frost Mountains hangs over the mantel.

Marble with silver-veining comprises the walls and flooring. There are three levels to the library. Each one is filled with rows and rows of books, sparkling with the light streaming in from the wall of windows. I incline my neck to take it all in. All of this wondrous knowledge is nestled here—at my fingertips—and yet?—

Frosty comes up behind me. I feel his warmth along my back. I can’t bring myself to face him lest he see the color swimming in my cheeks and sweat breaking out along my brow.

“I thought you might enjoy spending some time in here. Who knows? Maybe some forgotten secrets are tucked into the old tomes.”

His tone is light—jovial—but it does little to relieve the lump in my throat. When I say nothing, he walks in front of me with lowered brows.

“Dove?”

I can’t meet his gaze. Instead I drop my eyes to trace the sparkling silver along the floor.

“It would matter little if they were,” I say, heat spreading down my neck and attacking my chest. “I—I can’t read.”

My truth lands at our feet, and I want to sweep it away—to hide. Mama and I never learned, nor did Sophia. Our village only had one teacher, and the price of school was too great for my family to afford. Papa could read some, but never enough to teach us.

An ugly emotion swims in my stomach, and I wait for the King’s ridicule. He must be disappointed that the person he chose to help save the realm can’t even spell her name. However, will I break the curse?

Anger burns through the embarrassment. It is his fault for taking me. I never asked to be his prisoner or his savior. If he is to mock me for?—

A warm hand cups my face and drags my eyes towards his blue ones. They glow with sincerity—not a trace of pity to be found. Dark blue blooms on his cheeks and nose as I realize with a start he’s blushing, too.

“Please don’t hide from me,” he whispers.

I swallow against my dry throat. “I—there was no one around to teach me. My parents couldn’t afford schooling, so?—”

“Then I will teach you. You’re a smart young woman—you’ll pick it up quickly.” His thumb grazes my jaw. “You're one of the cleverest people I’ve ever met.”

I raise a brow. “How many humans have you met?”

A deeper shade of blue colors his cheeks.

“Well,” he pauses, “none before you. But I know you're bright. And kind.”

Despite myself, I feel my lips twist into a grin.

“In five hundred years, I’m the first human you’ve ever met?”

“I feel like it’s imperative to remind you I’ve been cursed for four hundred and fifty of those years.” He gives me an indulgent smile. “You don’t have to tell me. I look amazing for my age.”

A laugh puffs from my lips, the last vestiges of tension leaving me.

“I assume frost elves age differently than humans?”

“Slower.” He gestures towards his face—nary a wrinkle to be found. “Clearly.”

“Hmm,” I hum. “Mama always said to help an elder whenever I could. I suppose that’s what I’m doing now.”

His smile shows off two rows of perfect, white teeth.

“An elder? You wound me. I don’t look a day over three-hundred-and-forty-six.”

His hand drifts lower on my cheek, gently skimming over my jaw and neck—goosebumps break out along my flesh. Being with him shouldn’t feel effortless, yet there is a familiarity between us as if we have known each other for longer than a day.

Frosty’s hands linger on the pendant at my throat. The longing in his eyes burns me alive.

“You don’t have to,” I whisper. “Teach me to read.”

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