Page 8 of Gifted to the Frost King

Without his warmth, my wet clothes and hair add to my discomfort. As the wind picks up, I feel my skin prickle. My teeth chatter painfully as shivers wrack me. I tuck my freezing hands under my cloak, which is of little help.

The Frost King stares at me momentarily, surveying me from head to toe. I try to meet his gaze, but another convulsion rocks me, causing my knees to buckle. With a deep snarl, the Frost King lunges for me. His strong arms go around my back and under my knees. Cradling me to his chest, I don’t hesitate to retreat into his warmth.

His steps are clipped as we make our way through the castle. My head fits snugly under his chin, and I fight to keep my eyes open long enough to take in my surroundings. The palace is a labrythin—the further we travel into it, the more confusing it becomes. I lose track of how many steps and turns we take. Countless sets of doors open as we move through dozens of empty rooms. Any chance of remembering the path out is lost after we make what must be our tenth right turn.

Another hallway appears. The dark blue carpet is decorated with what I can only assume is his royal crest—a large silver snowflake, which matches the ones carved on many of the doors. Despite the heat he’s putting off, my shivering persists. I try to get closer, but it’s not working. My wet clothes feel like they are freezing to my skin, and my trembling intensifies.

The Frost King murmurs something under his breath before making a sharp right—passing us through a stone wall as if it weren’t there. The taste of metal lingers on my tongue. He passes us through two more walls before we reach a dark room. The only light comes from a large window against the far wall.

Below it sits a large tub made of dark tiles. Steam curls over the lip. I haven’t seen a tub in ages—we sold ours a few years ago for some extra coin. Neither have I ever seen water that warm. Back home, we only heated ours enough to take the chill off. Bathing was a necessity, never a luxury, as I had heard others treat it.

Now, inside this bathroom, I see how someone may wish to spend all day in the bath.

Decadent warmth covers every inch of this room. The steam coats my skin and helps relieve my shivering. My hands lift to the tie of my cloak and undo the simple knot. The fabric hits the floor with a wet thud. Reaching for the hem of my shift, I can think of nothing but getting this freezing garment off of me.

However, as I try to lift it over my hand, my arms are stiff from the cold. My shivering returns with a vengeance, and soon, my fingers feel too cold even to move. Trembling, I’ve forgotten I’m not alone until I hear the sound of tearing fabric.

Steamy air greets my exposed back as my shift flutters to the ground to join my soaked cloak. I don’t even care that I’m naked. The need to preserve my modesty is not as crucial as the need to feel my fingers and toes again.

With great effort, I move towards the tub, using the final ounces of my strength to heave myself over the side and into the warm water.

I am submerged in glorious heat. Never in my life has anything felt this good. My cold body burns as it thaws in the water. Finally—and only when my lungs scream at me to do so—I surface for air. Pushing my heavy, damp hair out of my eyes, I turn towards the door.

The Frost King is utterly motionless. Unease prickles the back of my neck, even as the flicker in my chest kindles again. Suddenly, I am very aware that I am naked and alone with a creature of unimaginable power. He can walk through walls. He can make me sleep for hours—days even. If he wanted to, he could?—

He won’t hurt you,a small voice whispers to me.He can’t.

I must pray to theMother of the Snowthat that is true. I wait for him to advance, but he remains still. His fists curl into tight balls at his side. He does not try to glimpse my body, even as I shift in the water and pull my knees to my chest. The Frost King’s burning gaze never strays from my face.

His gaze lingers with heat and something else—is an emotion far too intense for me to name. In an instant, it evaporates, and cool indifference settles over his features.

“Warm yourself,” he says simply. “There will be fresh clothes for you in the attached room. That is where you will stay while you are here. I suggest you get familiar with it.”

I open my mouth, but he waves a dismissive hand.

“When the bell chimes six times, I expect you to join me for dinner in the main dining hall.”

Dinner? A room all to myself? Maybe the stories of the tribute being treated to a life of luxuries weren’t too far off. I won’t dare allow these basic kindnesses to sway me. I am still his prisoner, and until I find out how I can get him to break the curse on my village, I must always remain vigilant.

Before I can ask where the dining hall is, he disappears in a swirl of white fur leaving behind only a small pile of fresh snow.

7

DOVE

Standing before a large mirror, my hands trail the softest gown I’ve ever felt.

The light blue satin molds to my body as if it were made just for me. After scrubbing my body and scalp properly, I emerged from the tub, only to be greeted by a warm towel carried by the wind. Invisible hands wrapped it around my wet body while another blotted my hair dry. The taste of metal coated my tongue. The notion of being attended to by the Frost King’s magic was a bit jarring.

However, I quickly overcame my shock once I stepped into this lavish room and watched the large wardrobe magically fill with all manner of fine clothes. Thick wool socks hang next to silky stockings and nightgowns. Satin dresses in various shades of blues and whites hang from the racks next to furlined cloaks and scarves.

His magic had helped me dress and even went so far as to conjure a warm breeze to aid in drying my hair. Glossy, loose curls fall to the middle of my back. A portion of it is braided along the crown of my head and secured with a glittering silver pin.

As I continue to study my appearance, color has returned to my face. Behind me, my opulent room is awash in bright sunlight. White light filters in through the massive window across from my large bed, which looks wide enough to sleep ten people. I shared my old bed with Sophia; our feet or arms would have to hang off for us both to fit.

The silky sheets and comforter are soft white, while the mountain of pillows match the dark blue of the bathroom. A massive silver headboard leans against the wall. Besides the bed and the large window, there is a fireplace with a small sitting area and table.

This room is larger than our entire cottage. Guilt creeps in. Here I am in these wonderful clothes, having just had the most glorious bath, and later, I’ll sleep in the most incredible bed while my sister and mother wonder if I’m dead.

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