Page 21 of Frost and Death
Squinting through my half-closed eyes, my friend serenades through her morning tasks.
Betina’s coiled black hair is plaited at the base of her neck. Her hair rests over her left shoulder, while the swaying of her dress brings out the rich, glowing undertones in her sienna skin. Her graceful appearance beats mine, always looking youthful and showing no signs of aging.
She could easily pass as royalty herself.
And though her height surpasses mine, our love for pastries and wine grants us similar curves.
She comes up, lightly tapping the tops of my feet. “We must get you ready for this evening,” she sings in her soprano voice.
I jerk my eyes open, scowling at her mischievous grin.
Betina’s family comes from a long line of nobility and was always close to mine. In our youth, she befriended Runa and me. But our relationship amplified when I asked her if she would move into the castle and be my lady-in-waiting.
And in becoming my constant companion, she has basked in my snowstorm, always taking my hand and supporting me through everything. Always ready to help guide me through the void of grief.
I treasure her.
Even as my lady-in-waiting, she lessens my load by coordinating my schedule, bringing me news and paperwork with any pressing issues Niko needs me to address.
But after the wreckage of last night still playing in the back of my mind, I have no care to even contemplate how tonight will fare. Smacking my hands on the sides of the bed, I lean up to rest on my elbows, giving her a pointed stare.
“Two words, Betina.This.Evening,” I tell her, flopping on my pillow and grabbing a second one to shield my eyes.
If I could get a few more hours of sleep, maybe my mood will improve.
Her sigh of frustration forces a grin to appear as I hide underneath my pillow. I don’t hear her footsteps near my bedside as she whisks the cushion out from under me.
As she hovers above me, annoyance brims in the depths of her chestnut eyes.
“Tove.”
I give it right back to her, asserting my leadership. “Betina.”
We remain unmoving in our stare down, waiting to see who will break first. I really want to sleep and not undergo long hours of getting ready and discussing my…options. I met a few nobleslast night, but none took to me as much as Niko and the scarred man.
Sweet Makers,pleasedon’t make me resort to choosing Ulrik.
Betina’s eyes soften, and I know my authority won over. It always does. She lets out a lighthearted laugh, playfully smacking the pillow across my face.
“Fine,” she concedes. “Let me bring up some food, at least.”
A chuckle escapes as I lift the pillow and coo, “And that’s why I love you.”
She hums and circles around the bed, passing through the threshold and pausing. “I love you, too.”
The creaking sound of the door closing grants me solitude, and I savor these few extra minutes of relaxation. I slump, tossing and turning to seek comfort.
But with the sunlight draping across my bed, it limits the positions I can rest my eyes without its rays beaming in my face.
I roll to my back, staring at the dark canopy of curtain draped over my bed.
My situation diminishes any hope I have of returning to sleep.
Weight presses against my chest, and the desperation to appease everyone has tension rolling down my spine. I need to find a suitortonight.No matter how badly I wish Niko would take an interest in me…
He is your friend, Tove. He is looking out for you and the kingdom.
I grumble in frustrated defeat. If only it were that easy.
