Page 111 of Frost and Death
Has she felt Jerrick’s powers like I have? Does she know what his magic is versus what his curse is? They knew each other before he inherited his abilities.
“What was he like before?” I ask, unable to stop the question from escaping my lips.
Her face sours slightly, growing quiet. “He is still very much the same as from when he and I—you know. But I can’t say for certain. I don’t think anyone can but Jerrick.”
“Not even Jonas?”
She shakes her head. “They are close, but I don’t think Jerrick lets in anyone fully. I think he believes he is alone in the world between his curse and being king.”
Shoving another piece of cheese in my mouth, I nod to her in understanding. I know all too well the mantle and stigma of managing a kingdom can weigh on one’s shoulders. A pang of guilt claws at my chest for Jerrick, similar situations befalling the two of us.
But he killed his father, whereas I brought doom.
Two different types of monsters.
I catch my own reflection in the vanity, the monster within filling the frame and sending ice crackling around me. I blink away my fears, grimacing at the evil shining back.
No, I was wrong.
There aren’t two types of monsters, only one.
And it is staring right at me.
I flinch away from myself, darting my attention to Dorit, seeking to bury my wretchedness.
She quietly tidies up the sheets on my bed and gathers my chamber pot. My boots sit near the door she passes, a reminder of the final thing needed to get me out and into the world.
A hesitation turns my gaze toward Mother’s mirror, which I haven’t touched in a while. I need to warn Niko about Jerrick. I don’t have all the pieces yet, but I have to give him something.
“Tove?” Dorit draws my attention from Mother’s mirror, concern lacing her question. “Are you alright?”
“Yes, just reminiscing,” I lie through my teeth.
She drops into a low curtsy and leaves my bedchamber as I make my way over to my boots, slipping them on with more ease than yesterday.
I descend the hall toward the library where Jerrick greets me, waiting for me, along with a new pile of books stacked on the wooden table. I grumble at his greeting, knowing I am half here against my will.
He gestures toward the other chair, and I join him, looking over each spine of the books. Jerrick hands me a book, taking away my freedom to choose what to read, and I sigh when the title tells me nothing about my magic.
I look at Jerrick, needing reassurance that I am not being strung along again. “Are youreallygoing to help my people and me if I help you break your curse?”
Jerrick’s eyes flash, and I expect him to yell or threaten me, like he has done since I’ve arrived. But instead, he surprises me with a faint glimpse of the man I met in Axidoria.
“I have signed off on the most recent trade exchange as a token of good faith in you helping me,” he says with tenderness.
Food and clothing being approved and sent to my people fills me with gratitude.
But he shortens my moment of relief by adding, “Now youreallyneed to earn the right.”
I scowl, grinding my teeth. “How else am I supposed to do so if I am already helping you?”
A hint of amusement dances in his blue irises, a devious smirk gracing his features.
I squeeze my thighs together when his voice turns velvety and smooth.
“We could revisit what happened with a certainwallyesterday.”
I clench the book tightly, the leather rubbing against my fingertips, when Jerrick winks.
