Page 121 of Frost and Death
I am not a perfect queen, but I do care.
“Even though they dislike you and do not even call you by your given title?”
“Even then,” I answer. “Even if they hate me, I still have a duty to them. I can be indifferent to them while still negotiating on their behalf with other kingdoms to offer them the help I myself cannot give them.”
He scrunches his brows. “They scorn you.”
“As they should. I did cause an unrelenting winter in their home. I let them see what they believe because feeding back into the hatred they have will only turn me into a monarch like this.” I gesture to the journal.
Jerrick hums thoughtfully. “You are too merciful for your own good.”
I roll my eyes. The Snow Queen of Axidoria being merciful feels like a slight. I wave off his comment, releasing a long shaky breath.
“My own parents were cruel. Cursing their citizens—cursing their neighboring kingdoms.”
Jerrick bristles and clenches his fists.
Cruelty spans across all kingdoms, even to this day, between Jerrick’s father and my family. And bringing up his curse is like calling forth my grief.
A dark burden neither of us wants to linger on longer than necessary.
Memories of my family draw my next question, seeking answers. “How do youknowyour father was not involved with my father’s end?”
The king stares, and I hold his gaze, a rapid fire of emotions swirling behind his eyes. His features turn distraught, exhausted, as if working through his own thoughts and his curse.
But getting proof about what happened to my family takes precedence.
Jerrick breaks eye contact, fracturing this odd sensation of him holding my air supply.
Doubt taunts its suspicious melody in my mind that he used his powers on me just now, even as air fills my lungs, but his magic was nothing like this. When he used his gifts on me, I felt as if I were on fire.
Stealing my breath, however, is something new, and I don’t want to believe it was my own natural reaction. I calmly regain control of myself, still watching Jerrick intently.
He rises from his chair, stepping down one of the rows of bookshelves.
It is quiet for a few beats, but the sounds of books stacking against each other have me wondering what he is doing now.
Is he ignoring me again?
I slump back against my chair, hating that the minuscule peace between us has fractured again. I try to remove the unanswered question from my mind, hating I have only dug a deeper hole for myself.
You should have stuck to reading about rulers, Tove.
My gaze falls back to the journal, reluctant to read onward. I grumble under my breath, reaching for it, when footsteps fall.
Jerrick’s blue eyes find mine as he returns, resting more books on our never-ending pile to sort through. But he places these ones directly in front of me.
“This is everything of my father’s dealings and financial ledgers,” Jerrick says.
Confusion furrows my brows as I sit up.
He filters through them, selecting a few and opening them to specific sections. When a flurry of text is spread before us, he gestures to them.
“Here is a record of his dealings with our spy master and his team of assassins.” He lifts another book up. “This is the ledger noting what each transaction was near, leading up to and after your father’s disappearance.” Jerrick lifts a stack of letters. “And these are all the letters exchanged between Axidoria and Palaena.”
I scan each text, taking the letters first. I shuffle through a few, my surprise keeping me from reading the contents. Doubt in Jerrick not answering my questions flushes my cheeks.
“Why are you giving me these?”
