Page 66 of Frost and Death
I try to turn away, hoping to shake off the growing noise lingering here in the dimness. Muffled voices join the sounds, nearing where I lie.
Fluttering my eyes, I squint when a fleck of light beams through the void. But something covers the light, allowing my eyes a brief relief, only for a shadowed figure to fill my view.
The peace of sleep comes to an abrupt end.
The prominent scar is on full display as the face hovers over me, blocking me from seeing anything beyond him. Gone is theshadow of a beard on his jawline, replaced with stubble that has grown out a little.
Deities, he looks as if he hasn’t showered in days.
Jerrick still smells of the forest, with only traces of the cologne I find myself longing for.
His features soften. “Looks like you made it, Frostbite.”
My temper flares at the damned nickname, but it is forgotten as he pulls away, allowing me to take in my surroundings.
Red satin sheets are spread and rumpled, blending in with a chaise at the foot of the bed. Gilded bronze frames the bedposts, the hearth, and the small chandelier illuminating the room.
There is a working table with a dark maroon lounge chair next to three tall windows, and to the left of me is a bathing chamber, wardrobe, and entrance.
The room is larger than the queen’s chambers in Axidoria, yet it feels more homey—more cozy.
But that comfort is stripped bare as my gaze remains glued to another man leaning against the door.
His tall, lean frame is sculpted enough to make the muscles in his arms visible as he crosses them. He offers me a tight expression. His hair is black like Jerrick’s but grown out beyond his ears rather than to his shoulders. No dimples and no scars on his cleanly shaven honeyed skin.
Just deep russet eyes studying me through a suspicious squint.
Beside the man is a woman. She is petite and slender, with wavy dark-brown hair and an olive-beige complexion. But it is her small pink lips and golden chestnut eyes that hold my attention the longest. She wears a tight smile compared to the two men staring at me skeptically.
She is probably a staff member. Maybe a healer. Or maid?
My gaze returns to Jerrick, braced against the bed with his hand lingering near mine. The urge to hold it hits me like a wave, seeking comfort in the only person I know.
How pathetic.
I swallow down a gulp of air, trying to rise, and I am surprised by how fast Jerrick springs forward to help me.
His arms are tense and strong as they guide me up slowly and carefully, which I am thankful for as soreness spreads along my body.
“I’d be careful if I were you. You’ve been in and out for a while,” Jerrick comments.
My mouth falls. “Wh-What?” I inspect my right shoulder and see it bandaged.
I don’t remember how I got here. All I remember is seeing two Jerrick’s and pain.
I bristle at the phantom sensation of tearing and pulling, clinging the satin sheets.
“It’s alright,” the man from the door says, stepping into the room.
His tanned skin is accentuated by his sharp features, but his brown eyes hold a promise behind them, sending an optimistic feeling into my chest.
Jerrick stands, moving toward the foot of the bed and crossing his arms as the man comes up and takes my hand.
“It is wonderful to meet you, Queen Tove. I am Prince Jonas, but you can call me Jonas. I’m Jerrick’s brother and head advisor.” He kisses my knuckles, and heat rushes to my cheeks at how genuine he seems.
Trust rings true as the prince offers me a kind smile.
I palm my cheek, hiding the heat blooming and masking myself as I say, “It is a pleasure, Jonas.”
