Page 147 of Frost and Death
Confusion etches across his features as he turns to me, biting his lip in contemplation. He offers me a small shrug. “I’ve never tried.”
I dip my head and lower it in contemplation, trying to puzzle together how to stop my winter.
Jerrick tilts my chin up to him, and his eyes scan mine.
“You okay?” he asks softly, leather and cologne thickening in the air.
I blink, seizing the courage to practice more of my gifts. “I’d like to start training.”
A hint of skepticism graces his features, and I take it as a challenge. I close my eyes with excitement in my veins to finally show him what I have been meaning to since he last went hunting.
His hold on my chin disappears as I tap into my breathing, my thoughts directing me to my powers. I harness my strength and show Jerrick what I can do, what I need to do, and breathe through my own beliefs, my own encouragement, and Jerrick’s supportive guidance.
Lifting the palm of my hand, I see my breathing turns cold, and the glimpse of ice prickling across me ripples down my arms in stride. I channel that energy, focusing on targeting all magic toward my hand.
My eyes open to a beautiful snowflake twisting in the center of my palm. Pride shines through as I nurture this gift, gently coaxing it back into slumber. When the sensation of magic in my core has ebbed, Jerrick’s eyes shimmer.
“We can start our first lesson tomorrow,” Jerrick says.
His hasty reply earns me a moment of success, the relief of something finally working out for me, and I can’t help wrapping my arms around him in an embrace.
I’ve caught him off guard, but I still whisper softly into his chest, “Thank you.”
Only then do large arms encompass me, pulling me in tighter and planting a kiss on my forehead.
“Always,” he whispers into my hair, my head buzzing when we resume walking.
Jerrick’s movements cease upon our arrival at a shop with wide windows surrounded by rose bushes.
My eyes widen at the displays of gowns in varying colors. Each gown is decadent and vibrant, details visible even from far away.
“This is the best seamstress in our kingdom, and I thought it would be good to save best for last by picking up a gift for you,” Jerrick says, continuing toward the shop’s entrance, holding the door for me.
“You—You got a gift for me?” Guilt swirls from his thoughtfulness, unsure of what I did to warrant this. “But I don’t need any gifts, Jerrick.”
“Don’t worry, it’s a surprise.”
He winks mischievously as we both enter the shop. Jerrick releases my hand to close the door behind us, leaving my heart to somersault at his words.
I follow his movements, uncomfortable at the thought of a surprise. A surprise is a change in routine, and I live off my routine. Anytime it’s different, my entire day needs adjusting.
When he faces me, I swear he notices my train of thought. I evade him by glancing at the shop, a small gasp escaping.
Varying fabrics hang across the sides of the shop, organized by hue and material. I am obsessed by the rainbow of color. Every tone is separated by little ladders with patterns, line work, and accessories that can be added into a gown’s ensemble.
Even though I could stare at the interior prism of color, the gowns are what have me stepping further, examining each onewith envy. They are all so intricate and original, nothing like the day dress I currently wear or the outfits back home.
The thought has me inspecting my outfit, making sure the dirtied hem does nothing to touch these stunning gowns.
A large wooden table built into the foundation of the store sits at the back. Packages big and small are being wrapped by an elderly woman.
She looks fragile, but each task she does is accompanied by a soft hum, which lingers in the shop. Her short pixie hair is light brown, with mixed sections of white around her face. She is short and petite, and there are wrinkles visible from where I stand.
The more I observe her, the more I admire the tenderness of each fold she makes on the emerald gown she fits into a medium-sized box.
She lifts her head, warm skin complementing her own ensemble as her brown eyes meet mine. Her upturned eyes flash over toward Jerrick as a grimace covers her features.
Why does she look so familiar?
