Page 42 of Gifted to the Frost King

I scream as I burrow into his neck. The wind whips at my hair and tugs at my dress as we sail through the sky. Icy winds carry us, and the world is one white blur. I close my eyes, not wanting to witness us hit the ground.

“Open your eyes,” Frosty calls above the wind. “I’ve got you.”

Reluctantly, I peel them open and am treated to the most glorious sight. We curl and twist in time with the wind. It pushes and keeps us afloat as we sore over the dense foliage below. Frosty’s hands tighten on me as I take it all in. The mountains loom ahead. From this height, I can make out their snow-white caps. Clouds peel back from the sun, and I feel its warmth press down on me.

I hold on tighter to Frosty as a laugh rasps out of me. It’s magnificent—a sight I’ll never forget. I glance up to find his eyes on my face. The emotion swimming in his eyes is too intense to name, but I feel it all the same—the warmth of it wraps around my heart.

A strong breeze guides us lower until I spot rolling heels. The stone tops of buildings can be seen just ahead. The breeze dissipates, and we fall through the air for only a second. Then, I feel soft snow break my fall. I squeal at the chill. Popping up from the heap of snow, I spy Frosty’s laughing face as he shakes the snow from his hair. He looks younger—more carefree.

Reaching for me, he plucks me from the snow and helps wipe the snow from my gown. With a wave of his hand, a white cloak with silver trim appears on my shoulders. The inside is lined with soft fur. Frosty secures it firmly before taking my hand and leading me down the hill.

A quaint town comes into view. The shops and homes are all made out of white stone. They glitter in the sunlight. Just like everywhere else in this land, they are eerily quiet. Entering the town square, I try not to recoil at the iced-over bodies lining the street.

Each one is frozen during a mundane activity. Some are crystalized, walking arm-and-arm with their friend towards a tavern. Strolling past a window, I see a family of three all frozen around the dinner table. Even their food has frosted over, and web-like ice crawls up their walls.

Glancing over towards the King, he dips his head. How they have all suffered. This punishment was too cruel. Frosty deserved to pay for his crimes and cruelty, but all of these elves and fairies? Was their only crime calling this land home? Surely, the sorceress must understand that her actions were just as cruel as the King’s.

Squeezing his hand, he tucks me against his side, using a finger to point to each building.

“My father would only go to that specific tailor,” he says.

Masse and Son’s Tailorare carved into the stone building's side. The ease with which the words come to me now is staggering. The knowledge Frosty has gifted me with has changed my life.

My eyes linger on the frosted glass. Behind it, rows of fabric and work tables sit. A frozen elf male stands with a piece of rope draped around his shoulders and a quill resting in his hand. He is frozen while making alterations—a project that may never be completed.

We continue in silence, our feet crunching on the snow below.

“That used to be the bookstore.” He nods towards another building. “That was the butcher’s. His wife owned the sweet shop next door. It was my favorite place as a child.”

He guides me towards it. The inside is still, with no frozen bodies to be seen.

“Every time my father needed something mended or my mother wanted a new book to add to the library, we would always stop by here before returning home. We’d drink steaming mugs of melted chocolate.” His gaze turns distant. “Those were simple times—happy times. My parents were a beloved monarch. They raised me to love this land and to fight for my people. I have failed their legacy, and I fear I won’t get to fix everything I have broken.”

I turn towards him.

“Do not despair. There is still time,” I say. “Glimmer has been searching for the frozen lake. Perhaps it is the key to?—”

His fingers skim over my mouth.

“I do not wish to give into false hope. It won’t be long now—I thought I had days but,” he pauses, looking down at his hand. The skin on his palm is entirely white. “I fear it may only be hours.”

Tears burn in my eyes at how unfair this all is. I wasn’t even given a chance to uncover the secrets buried here. How was I supposed to change his heart any more than I already have? What could we have built together, given more time?

He catches an errant tear with his thumb.

“Do not cry for me, Dove. I was shown one final act of mercy in all of this—you.” His lips brush over my forehead. “If the curse is not broken before I succumb to the ice, I want you to find my horse. It has been spelled to return to your village along with provisions. Whatever’s left in the castle, you are free to keep. My magic should hold and spare your family from any more hardships. This is my vow to you.”

Sadness encases my heart in ice.

“Do not lose hope, Frosty.” My voice is rough with emotion.

His lips twitch upwards.

“That infernal nickname,” he chuckles. “Somehow, you make it sound perfect.”

I meet his smile with a teasing one of my own.

“I’d happily call you by your name if you ever decided to tell me it.”

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