Page 95 of Frost and Death
The prince’s brown eyes twinkle, his pure joy infectious.
I want to smile along with him, and I do, knowing this grants Niko a chance to enter Palaena with welcome. With him and the bannermen in attendance, the paradigm will shift.
A smirk plays along my lips. “Let’s first get through trade routes and then we can plan the celebrations.”
Jonas’s tall frame eases into the cushioned seat, agreeing with my feedback. His brown eyes are bright and excited for this new challenge. With similar features as his brother, I can’t wrap my mind around how one of them can be accommodating, charming, and kind while the other pretends to show those traits.
He glances down at the map between us, pinpointing the trade routes and goods we plan to exchange. With wine, wheat,fish for crops, and new metals, my heart leaps at the resources supplied by Palaena and not Ulrik.
The gratification at removing the Albertsens’ power over my family is unparalleled. With the new trade and the planned ball, I am almost convinced this alliance could be a good thing.
Almost.
Jonas is rambling ideas aloud, unable to curb the thrill of planning this celebration of my marriage to Jerrick. “It’ll be a challenge to make the arrangements, but it’ll be fabulous.” Jonas beams.
The relief of removing one small stress from my agenda is short lived, the added weight of scheming already taking a toll. I go along with all the suggestions Jonas mentions, too tired to expend anymore on plans for the day.
When I leave his study, I find myself heartened by the solitude of being alone for once. My footsteps take me to one of my favorite areas of the castle, grateful the figurative shackles I wear feel lighter—if only a little.
Jonas is open and forthright during our trade discussions, but each day I walk down the hall with Dorit is another day I do not see Jerrick.
It strikes me as odd, given he was the one I was supposed to be with while here. I had believed meetings would involve us both along with training my gifts.
But it is as if he is a figment of my imagination.
Each day I don’t wake up beside Niko or don’t have Betina greeting me is a cold slap to the face. My situation is real, not a dream.
I’ve fought my homesickness alone, clinging to my pillow and crying through nightmares. My grief and my failures seek to drown me each day, but I cannot even allow myself to feel the sorrow. No, I need to bide my time, wearing this false mask to find answers and return home.
Being tucked away with Jonas should be exhausting, but it’s granted me chances to peel information from the prince about Palaena after a few glasses of wine. He still managed to remain tight-lipped whenever I would bring up his brother, seeking answers about him as well as my family. But Jonas listed excuses, claiming he was forbidden to discuss such matters until the king had.
It left me vexed, hating that I would have to wait for Jerrick to approach me.
Jonas diverted my questions, mentioning how he and Viggo, his partner, met. The adoration shining on his face whenever he spoke of Viggo lifted my mood despite the pang of missing Niko.
The story led deep into the night, and it was the first time I genuinely felt my time with Jonas was a delight rather than an obligation.
I’ve worked hard at remaining closed off, yet I found myself blurring the lines between deceiving and being myself.
Matters only remained worse, though, because I could not sense my magic.
It hasn’t manifested since my injury, and part of me fears that, somehow, being here, healing has taken away my capabilities. It is another jab at my failures, reminding me that Axidoria is still plagued by my destruction.
I fidget with my fingers anxiously, still trapped in this disaster of my own making.
I seek out the courtyard after today’s meeting, discussing wine as one of the first resources exchanged between Palaenaand Axidoria. And as it comes into view, my breath catches, and tension leaves my body at the sight.
The sun sets behind the Velkan Mountains, with a cloudless sky covered in light hues of pink and lavender surrounding the blue of day. No sign of night has taken over the sky yet, and my arms hold my midsection, leaning against one of the courtyard pillars, enjoying one of my new favorite pastimes.
Chords and a light melody come to mind, and my fingers twitch lightly, circling movements of composition as I imagine a soft, lyrical ballad coming to life on the keys of a piano. An ache pushes against my chest from the lack of access to music, and I fight through it, trying to allow the song to uplift me. But tears line my vision.
I miss Niko and Betina.
I miss visiting my family’s graves.
I try to hum the songs I’ve composed in my heart, but its call has disintegrated.
“How is your plan for world domination going?” a dark, low voice grumbles from the shadows.
