Page 7 of The Enchanted Frost

The exhaustion that had previously choked her voice seemed to have faded as the warmth restored her strength. In its place her tone took on a hardened, almost defensive edge, as if she anticipated that her unexpected fortune would be cruelly snatched away at any moment. Mistrust was clear in her gaze each time she tore her eyes away from the fire that attracted her so strongly.

I had no adequate explanation. The last thing I wantedwas to shatter the quiet calm that had descended over us like freshly fallen snow by reminding her that I was duty-bound to ensure that the process of her freezing reached its deadly conclusion. Nor did I have an answer that justified my efforts to warm her, efforts that contradicted my ultimate purpose to claim her soul.

She tilted her head at my extended silence, prompting me to respond. “I’m not certain why I chose to save you,” I finally admitted. “Perhaps it was nothing more than a whim.”

I doubted my honesty was the answer she’d been seeking, but she simply nodded. Her easy acceptance made my conscience prickle at keeping the darker details from her, but I hastily dismissed the urge to confide the full truth, reminding myself that the time for such a grim conversation was not so soon after her recovery.

Silence settled around us, broken only by the soft crackling of the embers. After a moment, she shifted her attention from the flames to my persistent efforts to keep them alive. “Aren’t you tired?”

“Exhaustion is a state immortal beings have no reason to feel.”

She lifted a skeptical brow. “No matter how invincible you believe yourself to be, there’s more to resting than simply replenishing your physical energy.”

Her dismissive tone couldn’t mask the concern I detected in her soft grey eyes—an emotion I’d never experienced directed towards me before, consideration I found both oddly comforting and disconcerting, much like the earlier emotion I’d felt towards her.

After some experimentation, I crafted a spell for the frost to regenerate on its own, allowing me to step away from the full force of the blistering heat against my frozen skin. She leaned forward, inching even closer to the flames, and thesoftclinkof metal against ice caught my attention as something in her pocket shifted.

I gestured towards it. “What’s that?”

Blanche hesitated, her hand lingering over her pocket before she slowly withdrew an odd-shaped object and extended it to me. I took it and turned it over in my hand, surprised by its weight. One side was smooth and oval, its polished surface broken only by an intricate engraved symbol, while the back looked like it had snapped off from a hinge.

“It’s a door knocker.” She offered no rationale as to why it was one of the few items aside from the matches that she carried with her. I returned it without a word and she carefully tucked it back into her pocket. The quietness between us grew heavy, broken only by the fire’s crackling embers.

I shifted uncertainly, unsure of what to do next for Blanche now that she was warming up. With no one other than myself ever gracing these halls, my duties as a host felt as elusive as the distant summer in my wintry existence.

“Is there anything I can do for you?” The question escaped me before I could stop it, driven not by politeness but by an unfamiliar desire to ease someone else’s discomfort, the first yearning of its kind I’d experienced in my existence.

A blush dusted her cheeks, adding a touch of color to her pallor that caused an odd flutter in my chest. “I can’t even remember the last time I’ve eaten.”

Her lips pressed together in an odd mix of resignation and resentment. I studied her, sensing something unusual in her tone, or perhaps her manner of speaking. My long history of observing humans unseen had attuned me to subtle inconsistencies, and there was something about her refined speech that clashed with her threadbare appearance.

Blanche turned back to the flames, and I refocused on thepressing matter at hand, pushing aside my curiosity about her background for the moment. I’d forgotten that humans depended on food to survive, but what did mortal beings eat? For me food was a luxury, not a necessity, leaving me at a loss.

When I asked her, she considered it for a moment. “When circumstances were…different, I used to be picky, but now I’ll eat anything.”

Her gaze wandered around the room before settling on a bowl on the nightstand filled with winter fruits I’d crafted after centuries of experimentation—a variation of plums infused with the sweetness of sugarplum candy.

Awkwardly, I handed one to her, careful to avoid chilling her with an accidental touch...though deep down, I was more afraid of how her warmth might affect me. She examined the glistening silver fruit with an appraising air before taking a tentative bite.

Her entire countenance lit up. “It’s delicious!”

I hadn’t realized how much I needed to hear praise for something I had created until she voiced her delight. Relief softened the tension stiffening my posture as a spark of delight shot through my body. “Thank you. I spent years perfecting them.”

Her eyes widened in surprise. “You mean youcreatedthem yourself?”

I shrugged, trying to downplay the effort. “I wanted there to be a fruit that could be enjoyed during my favorite season.”

“I didn’t think anything beautiful could be found in such a harsh climate.” Her murmur seemed to be as if speaking to herself.

Juice dribbled down her chin as she took another bite. Though I was pleased she enjoyed my offering, I knew humans required more than fruit to survive. Yet at present, Ihad nothing more to offer. I briefly considered creating a portal to a village, but I lacked the human currency needed for the necessary purchases.

Blanche devoured the entire bowl of fruit, her frantic pace evidence of a half-starved desperation. Once her hunger was sated her eyelids drooped; when her exhaustion eventually overcame her, she fell asleep, curled in front of the hearth, her formerly pinched features now bearing a trace of contentment.

Trapped in indecision, I watched the gentle rise and fall of her chest as she slept. Should I carry her back to the bed farther from the heat and risk waking her? Or leave her in an uncomfortable position where she might not receive adequate rest? After a moment of internal debate, I made a hasty trip to my chambers to fetch my cloak—worn on occasion for style rather than need—and draped it carefully over her.

After ensuring that the magic preserving the fireplace was secure and piling an extra log on, I left to attend to the duties that had accumulated while I tended to her. As I reached the doorway I hesitated, casting an uncertain glance back. Would she be alright on her own?

After a moment’s deliberation, I decided that even residing in my ice palace was preferable to the alley where I’d found her. Her state of being caught between life and death couldn't worsen during the short time I’d be away.

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