Page 9 of The Enchanted Frost

His brows knit together. “I’ve already told you—you’re in my winter kingdom. Mortals are certainly forgetful.”

Fragments of our earlier conversation penetrated the lingering drowsiness clouding my mind, just enough for me to piece together portions of my recollection—this man, who claimed to be the King of Winter, had rescued me from certain death and brought me to this place of snow and ice.The circumstances were so surreal that part of me remained convinced I was dead and experiencing the afterlife.

A flicker of defiance stirred within me, swelling my chest with a familiar emotion that had long been buried by the exhaustion and shame brought on by sudden poverty. “It’s not that I’m forgetful—I just find this entire situation unbelievable.”

His eyebrows lifted at my sharp tone, but rather than irritation, amusement danced in his eyes. “I understand the sentiment. There are several unexplainable aspects to your situation that even you aren’t aware of, but those can be discussed at another time. Though you seem much improved over your near-death state when I brought you here, you’re clearly not yet recovered.”

He eyed my drooping eyes, evidence that one night of sleep was insufficient to fully recover from my ordeal. Panic surged when he stood, ready to leave me to rest again. I seized the hem of his shirt. “Wait.”

He paused at my raspy plea, his gaze flickering down to where I held him. Though he appeared startled and perhaps a bit unsettled by the contact, he didn’t pull away, but simply waited for me to speak.

Desperately, I searched for an excuse to keep him close, but none came to mind other than the embarrassing truth. “I don’t want to be alone.” Heat crept into my cheeks at the admission, but I didn’t retract my childish request. Only now did I realize how vast the void of loneliness had become carved into my heart until someone finally filled it, even if just momentarily.

Confusion creased his brow. “Are all humans such sentimental creatures?” Despite his puzzlement, he settled back into his seat, a trace of an indulgent smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “I have some duties to attend to, but I’llremain until you fall back asleep. Once you awaken, there is much I need to discuss with you.”

I nodded weakly, hating how needy I felt, yet grateful for the kindness he bestowed. I’d never fully appreciated the value of small, considerate gestures until my fall from grace, when they became the only shafts of light in my dark circumstances.

With my basic needs finally met, a stubbornness I hadn’t felt for so long began to reemerge. I was half-tempted to stay awake just to keep him near, unwilling to relinquish the companionship that until this moment I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed. But in the end, my heavy exhaustion emerged as victor and I found myself gently pulled back beneath the folds of sleep, surrounded not by the icy winds and drifting snow of the alley but by the soft warmth of Frost’s cloak.

My first rest had been dreamless, but this time, the unfamiliar comfort and security allowed my mind to wander. Memories flitted in and out of my consciousness before settling on a seemingly insignificant moment—a morning when I’d woken up late in my grand canopy bed, the scent of bacon and eggs mingling with the sound of a crackling fire. Such a simple reminiscence—a rare moment of pure contentment, free from the burdens that would later consume my life—yet one I cherished more than all the lost glamour.

As I drifted through that recollection, portions of it seemed to drift into my present reality, for my present comfort was startlingly similar. The absence of the icy prickles that usually tormented my exposed skin startled me, jolting me awake with a gasp.

The fading light from when I’d drifted off had been brushed away by the bright morning sunlight filling the room, illuminating the intricate details that the night and mydrowsiness had blurred. I struggled to sit up to better look around. Frost was nowhere to be seen, but on the empty chair beside me, he’d left a woolen dress that looked far warmer than my meager rags. The fabric caressed my cheek as I gingerly cradled the outfit close. The faded brown design was far too simple and worn to be considered fashionable, but I had long since stopped caring about such trivial things.

After ensuring I was truly alone, I cautiously slipped out from beneath Frost’s cloak. The air was warmer within the reach of the hearth, but the lingering frostiness in the air nearly caused me to take refuge back beneath the blanket I’d just escaped.

I dressed as quickly as my still stiffened limbs allowed before wrapping Frost’s cloak back around my shoulders and tiptoeing to the door, tugging on the smooth, frosty handle to peer into the corridor. Though the hallway was absent of my mysterious host, instead I was greeted by his exquisite craftsmanship—a vision of winter wonder that left me breathless.

I took a reverent step before pausing to turn in a slow circle and take in the surrounding splendor. The interior was a labyrinth of ice corridors and chambers, each more awe-inspiring than the last. The translucent walls glowed with a soft, bluish hue, casting an ethereal light throughout the space. The polished floors beneath my feet mirrored the ambient light, creating the illusion of walking on a frozen lake.

Exploring the ice castle felt like stepping into a frozen dream, where every corner and corridor held a new marvel sculpted by winter's hand. The narrow, winding passageways heightened the sense of mystery and anticipation, their walls adorned with frost patterns that seemed to shift and change as I explored. Occasionally, I caught glimpses of the snowylandscape beyond through the clear ice windows, their panes offering a fleeting connection to the outside world.

Each room served as a testament to the artistry of its creation. As I ventured deeper into the castle, I encountered a series of chambers, each more captivating than the last. Some rooms were adorned with ice sculptures depicting scenes of winter folklore and mythical beings, so intricately carved they seemed ready to spring to life at any moment.

Grand halls with vaulted ceilings were supported by columns resembling the trunks of ancient trees, their branches intertwining to form delicate arches. Frosty lacework adorned their surfaces, while massive ice chandeliers hung overhead, their frozen crystals refracting light into a spectrum of colors that danced across the glistening walls.

At the heart of the castle lay a majestic throne room, dominated by a magnificent ice throne atop a raised platform. I stepped closer to see that the throne was carved with exquisite detail, featuring symbols and motifs that told stories of winter's majesty and the power of the cold. As I approached, the air grew even colder, a reminder of the elemental force that had crafted this enchanting palace.

Exploring the ice castle was an experience that captivated all my senses—the soft echo of my footsteps in the vast halls, the sight of light playing across the icy surfaces, and the crisp, clean scent of frozen air all combined to create a profound sense of awe and wonder. It was a place where the beauty and magic of winter were on full display, inviting me to lose myself in their crystalline splendor.

As I wandered through each room, I was struck by how they mirrored those of my old manor except these had been caressed by winter’s brushstroke. The beauty was otherworldly—if heaven were a cold place, I might have believed I’d found myself there…even as my past whispered that I was unworthy of such a heavenly paradise.

My explorations eventually led me to a room where the light glistening through the partially ajar door beckoned me to peer inside. The space beyond was an extension of this winter wonderland, a studio unlike any I’d ever seen. The walls were lined with detailed sketches of snowflakes in infinite varieties, each more intricate than the last. Snowflakes fell gracefully from the ceiling in delicate, orchestrated waltzes, their movements synchronized as if guided by an unseen conductor. An ice-crafted gramophone played a hauntingly beautiful tune, the melody reminiscent of the whispering winds of winter.

I stood entranced for several moments before a movement caught my eye. Frost himself sat hunched over a workbench, a basket of freshly created snowflakes at his feet. I drew closer, captivated by the design he was meticulously shaping. Curious, I watched as he used the curved blade of a tiny silver knife to craft an intricate pattern in a snowflake the size of his hand, pausing on occasion to consult a drawing. A nearby candle flickered, not from an ordinary flame but from an enchanted blue light that cast a heatless borealis of color across the room, illuminating his handsome features. A flutter of attraction stirred in my chest, startling me but also infusing me with a warmth entirely new and different from anything I’d ever experienced.

At the sound of my quiet footsteps, he paused and glanced over his shoulder. “Ah, you’re awake.” He set aside his carving tools in a small basket woven of ice strands and swiveled in his seat to face me more fully. “I was planning on checking on you when I finished here, but I wasn’t sure if you’d had enough rest.”

He himself showed no sign of fatigue, exuding an air of timelessness, as if both he and this castle had existed long before the world was formed, his youthful physique frozen in time.

I glanced around in awe. “Did you truly create such a marvelous place?”

A faint smile touched his lips. “I’ve had eternity to carve out every detail.” Pride tinged his otherwise matter-of-fact tone. “This is my studio, where I create winter. Right now I’m preparing several upcoming blizzards.”

The ever-present doubt in my mind stirred, but it was becoming harder to hold onto it after the wondrous feats of architecture I’d just explored in his ice castle and the evidence of his creation process before me. “Such a claim still feels so surreal,” I admitted, stretching out my palm to catch a snowflake.

He shrugged, seemingly unbothered by my skepticism. “It’s of no concern to me whether or not you believe; your acknowledgment or lack thereof cannot change my role nor the powers I possess.”

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