1

My Heart is a Grave

The tinge of frost atop the three tombstones lying before me conceals the names of my family. Memories of how each brought joy to others are long forgotten to the world, except by me.

I am alone—living with a constant numbness weighing me down, a burden surrounding my heart.

I study each grave methodically and relive moments of love I once had in my life. A bitter sharpness of ice hits my skin when I touch their names carved on the tombstones. Even as I withdraw and rub my nose, I wish instead the cold could have proven useful in drying my tears.

I was merely twenty when I lost my family, and it shocked me and my kingdom.

First, Father, then the transfer of magic to me happened.

It was then I knew Mother, too, was gone.

The nipping air mixed with pine and cedar almost blow down the hood of my cloak, and I fasten it in place, my stare lingering most on the last grave.

I was nothing compared to the sunshine my sister was. She was my best friend—and she was taken away far too soon.

A rupture in my world surrounds me, grating and carving out fractured pieces of my heart.

I squeeze my eyes shut as the hopelessness I struggle to suppress and hide daily turns into frustration, my powers shooting out from my palm in response. Memories and failures draw out a choked sob.

"Oh, Runa."

I hunch over and clasp a hand over my mouth, unable to control my sorrow. The agonizing pain keels over, surging the frost forth, and covering her grave once more.

I just cleaned it free of the damned frost.

Each day without my family is another day that my pain expands so much I have convinced myself to welcome it and let it swallow me whole.

And that is the fucked-up thing about grief.

It consumes me every day.

I am grief, and grief is me.

I focus on my breathing, struggling, as I always have, to stop my power from escaping. Once it leaves, I cannot draw it back, and I cannot melt it.

I lean into the cold fury thrashing in my veins, hoping it will cease and extinguish my emotions. Instead, it does as it always has and trails soft kisses in its wake along my skin.

I don't revel in the magic I have inherited, only forge the mask of a monster, a destroyer, and smother it away into nothingness.

It deserves to be buried and locked away.

Magic only creates more problems.

The inheritance of power came from the Makers, bestowed only amongst the six royal bloodlines. And each new monarch's ability was different from their predecessor, forcing and creating secrecy between neighboring kingdoms. The concealment of magic made wielding it cumbersome, with the only source for possibly learning about one's gift being through ancestors' journals.

And for some stupid, fated reason, I am the first heir of Axidoria to inherit gifts from the Deity of Seasons, Aiyana. No journals, no resources, no way to stop this winter.

My fucking cursed winter.

The whistling air accompanies me in a somber ballad on my way home, leaves billowing with the wind as I wipe my soaked cheeks. I huff and puff through each booted step, surveying more and more of my surroundings crusting over with frost.

The light snow over grass beneath me trails back to the frozen lake along the edge of Biala Forest. My never-ending winter started there and drifted toward the rest of my kingdom, and the spasming veins of frost grow day by day, year by year, hardening everything it touches. The ice creeps further up the walls of my home, kills more crops, and increases the hatred and disdain my people have for me.

Time has proven I didn't just lose my family but doomed a kingdom I was not well-enough prepared to rule.

A random gust of wind pulls me from my thoughts, ripping down my hood and leaving me scrambling for it. Small wisps of my silver hair get caught in my mouth, and I thank the Makers the rest of it is in a plait.

"This damned wind," I grumble as the black gates come into view.

Clouds loom above me, and snow covers the spiked tips of the barrier leading to the courtyard, Aiyana's cold month-long season just beginning. Unfortunately for me, the weather will only add to my magic-touched winter. If only her blossoming springs and blistering summers melted my power away, then I wouldn't even be in this mess to begin with.

"At least the clouds aren't my fault," I mutter grimly.

Hopefully the skies will clear and save me from more scorn and disappointment before the Celebration of Spirits next week. If one thing could go right when so many are attending, I would take that as a miracle.

Passing through the threshold, my steps echo, the castle I used to love eerily silent. Rooms that have fallen victim to my magic are blocked off and, luckily, are at the back of my home.

But on days like today, where the loss and failure fester, I can't seem to care—can't seem to move.

Exhaustion tugs at me when I reach my chambers and peel off my cloak. I remove Mother's small handheld mirror from my dress pocket, admiring the grooves carved into the gilded handle. As I run my thumb across it, I glance at its paired vanity.

The mirrored set has been in the Clemmensen family for generations. They were never important until Mother used her magic from the Deity of Illusion, Anwir, and cast a glamour on them to be a method of communication. The two mirrors are the last bit I have of my mother and her magic. It is a comfort and keeps her memory strong, the only solace I can turn to on my darkest days.

I clutch the mirror to my chest before reverently resting it on my vanity and remove the rest of my clothes, draping them over the cushioned chair.

The stone hearth blazes heat across my cold skin, the warmth following me as I collapse onto my bed, plush cushions cocooning me as the clean linen scent eases my eyes closed.

Three loud knocks reverberate throughout my bedchamber, and I loathe the insistency behind each one.

I remain silent, wondering if the clanging will happen again.

It does.

"Tove?"

A smooth baritone voice echoes into my bedchamber.

I glare at the door, stalling, with the hope my silence will be enough to send Nikolaj, my royal advisor, away. Stilling my breath, I listen for footsteps receding down the hall and jolt when his voice booms into my chambers once more.

"I know you are awake. I can feel your stare melting through the door."

I groan despite a small smirk forming. "Go away."

"Never."

Nikolaj's voice remains distant.

His laughter rings as I roll my eyes, squeezing my pillow once before expelling the air from my chest.

I rise and slip clothes over my curvy, petite frame, lifting my hair out from underneath the dress, checking to make sure I look presentable through my vanity. Running my hand down the long length of my plait, I note my sunken features.

My small pointed nose has a speck of red yet to diminish from the cold outside, and my hooded eyes are rimmed in dark undertones of purple and pink—the singular sign of crying and lack of sleep.

Blue irises, pale and as lifeless as ice, stare back.

A crack in the mirror has me blinking, the hallucination of the monster within thrashing.

I rub my eyes quickly, dragging myself to the door to open it a fraction, Nikolaj peering through with a wide grin.

His copper hair, streaked with darker hues of mahogany, is unruly, with the waves granting him a beauty I find myself envious of. Rich colors warm his skin and accentuate the amber in his eyes, fit to match his jubilant, colorful personality.

But it's the light stubble framing his square jaw that appeals to his boyish charm and always makes my chest flutter.

"Oh, come now, Tee. Let me in already," Nikolaj insists.

I stiffen at the shortened name he uses for me. It is meant to be endearing, but it, ultimately, started as a form of payback for me starting it.

I open the door faster than I can roll my eyes.

It is easy for my guard to slip whenever he is around, especially when he beams from cheek to cheek.

Nikolaj strides into my bedchamber, knowing I wasn't going to turn him away.

Tove, you are such a fucking pushover.

Niko scans my room, his attention pausing on the untouched food on my vanity and the emptied bottle of wine lying on the dark-blue rug. He shifts his body, rising as he places his hands on his hips.

I quickly mimic his actions, preparing for a full-blown lecture, but am surprised when he turns, still wearing a grin.

Sweet Makers, I hate how much smiling reminds me of Runa.

I shudder away from the memory of her, seeking my wardrobe to occupy my thoughts with dresses.

Fashion is one of the few remaining joys I have these days. A small pleasure in how each outfit can be pleasing and beautiful, enough to hide the person wearing it. But as I touch the gowns, an impending void of darkness yearns to make an appearance.

I cough to clear the tightness forming in my throat. "What can I help you with this morning, Niko?" I fidget with a satin dress in repetitive motions, my fingertips fixating on the smooth texture as Niko comes up from behind.

He cages me into his hard chest, and heat envelops me.

Sandalwood soap and leather dances along my senses, goose bumps prickling underneath my clothes.

The longing I've had for this man has multiplied in our time spent together. From being mine and my sister's royal guard to being appointed as my advisor, Niko's dedication and compassion for Axidoria, my family, and me are truly what help keep the storm within from consuming me.

Shifting from princess to queen has been difficult, but Niko has never once left my side. Even when I believed dismissing everyone and locking myself away was the safest option, he thought otherwise.

From weekly check-ins to more detailed reports and updates on the kingdom, I knew I could always trust Niko to make the right calls for me and Axidoria. I nodded solemnly and grieved in peace until he started pushing me to learn about my magic. Even though my efforts were pointless, looking back on those first few months to now helped me find some small purpose and grow into my role.

My gratitude and admiration to Niko strengthen each new day, as I'm indebted to him for not giving up on me.

But the fear of losing him like my family has me constantly pushing my feelings down.

I shouldn't even hope for a chance of love again.

It will always be taken away.

And yet my hopeful heart pushes past fear, grief, and self-hatred, dangling those feelings in front of me with moments like this.

I wiggle out of his embrace, seeking the distance to cool my desire. But when his boyish grin remains, I instantly regret facing him, using all my strength to not touch my heated cheeks.

"Are you ready for this coming week?" He gestures to the dresses behind me.

I laugh bitterly. "This coming week? Seriously? It's not like I want to find a husband during the Celebration of Spirits."

The Celebration of Spirits takes part every winter. It is a week-long event filled with festivities, balls, and a lantern ceremony where people come together to honor Yeva, the Deity of Life, and Letum, the Deity of Death.

This year, it will also be where I find my future king consort.

With the disdain from my people and no signs of winter ending, Niko advised it was time for me to marry. I rejected the suggestion time and time again, not wanting to even consider it. But deep down I knew a union would be something to raise the kingdom's spirits.

If even for a little bit.

"Tove—"

"Don't remind me," I grumble and wave Niko off, walking away from him and picking up the wine bottle near my bed.

I know he means well, as he strives to help show my people I am a worthy ruler despite the rumors. But they continue to spread like wildfire, so much so even my noblemen whisper to Niko of my cruelty when I am not present in meetings.

It drew me to the point of surrendering to the monster my people claim me to be, as it's easier to pretend my indifference to everyone is due to my cruelty rather than my grief.

"I know this is not what you had in mind, Tee, but it is time to further your family's line. Your parents would want that for you and for the kingdom."

"You don't know what they would have wanted!" I snap, the words landing harsher than I intended.

The jab hits Niko enough for him to wince.

I shake my head as I twirl the bottle around the table, trying to keep my mood at bay during this conversation.

I don't like talking about them.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, the tenderness in his voice worsening my regret.

I avert my eyes from his speculation and pity as a knot tightens in my chest.

Niko comes up and takes my hand into his. "Tove."

His calloused thumb brushes against my skin.

It lulls me for a moment until I remember that even letting Niko get closer to me will only damn him.

"I can't." I yank my hand from his grasp.

No matter how right it feels to have him near, I can't risk losing him.

My emotions stir, a twinkle of magic peeking its eye open. A chill kisses down my spine as I force myself back a step from Niko.

Calm down, Tove.

Niko tracks the icy breath seeping from my lips as I breathe through diminishing frost desiring escape.

I sag with relief when the sensation finally dissipates.

Niko blinks away his wariness and bounces back into conversation. "Are you still set on our plan to help you with your"—he coughs—"prospects?"

I smirk, still not believing in our plan.

We sent invitations to all the noblemen in Draymenk, informing them of my search for a husband and hoping many—or even one—would be interested. Niko also suggested he and I flirt to determine who has interest and puts in the most effort for winning my attention.

"Yes, Niko, but right now, I would very much like to try to get some sleep," I say, not wanting to show how difficult flirting with him will be.

Niko regards my outfit, lips curling as he asks, "You are going to bed in that?"

Worried he can see through my gown, I look down at myself. He tries to stifle a laugh, and I glare at him.

Why is he teasing me over what I am wearing?

"No." I cross my arms. "I am going to sleep naked, like I always do."

Niko gapes, coughing in astonishment as realization dawns.

My own eyes widen, and I cover my mouth in horror. Damn my mouth for getting the better of me.

Niko breaks into a rich laugh. "Already practicing flirting with me?"

I slump, heat warming my cheeks.

"It's fine, Tee. If it makes you feel any better, I sleep naked, too," he teases.

I groan, envious of his sunny disposition and lack of awareness regarding my true feelings. "Back to our discussion, Nikolaj," I grit through clenched teeth. "No matter the plan, I don't think anyone is going to want to marry the Snow Queen."

His mouth thins at the nickname my people have coined for me. "Tee, every eligible male wants to marry you. You are a queen with no heirs."

I know he is trying to reassure me, but reassurance doesn't make the nickname go away.

"Oh?" I challenge, throwing my flirtation attempts back at him. "Then, I guess you must want to marry me, too."

Eyes flashing, Niko shrinks back as if I have burned him. Even as his amber eyes rake down my entire body, my heart pounds.

My throat bobs when he meets my gaze again, and I don't allow myself a chance to understand why he just looked at me like that. I feign nonchalance with a wave of my hand.

"Relax. I was joking. Forgive me. I haven't eaten yet today."

His brows furrow. "Why haven't you been eating?"

Gesturing to the bed, I reply, "I was attempting to sleep before you came knocking, remember?"

Niko chuckles. "You probably need to eat and sleep."

I nod, knowing he is right and hoping my compliance will end this conversation.

He turns for the door, and I follow, only to bump into him when he stops. Niko twists and catches me before I fall on my ass.

When I look up to thank him, the sunlight normally surrounding him has turned to clouded darkness. My instincts kick in, concern tugging his face toward mine.

"Niko?" I ask. "What is it?"

He pulls me close, latching on as if I am a lifeline and lowering his head into the crook of my neck. His stubble rubs against my skin as he releases a long sigh.

Deities, my wish for him to always be this close has me wrapping my arms around him, allowing this token of affection. It is just a hug.

We have hugged plenty of times, and there is nothing different about this one.

But Niko remains quiet in our embrace.

I pull away and study him. "Niko?"

Niko moves, his face dipping inward, warmth hitting my nose. "It's—"

Hanging on with bated breath, I wait for a response as the rest of my body heats at his proximity.

His cheeky grin returns as he taunts, "Please make sure you eat today."

I deflate as glee erupts from him. My temper defends my crushed hope that he was going to do something more.

I shove him out of my chambers, slamming my door, unable to remove the sound of Niko's laughter echoing down the corridor.

I clench my fists. "Make sure you eat today."

Slinking out of my gown, I approach my bed, slumping onto it with a loud thump. The debate of whether I should remain lying on top of my covers or not fuels my anger.

I stew in my irritation and eventually tug the blankets out from under me, refusing to move another inch.

Fucking Niko.

My mind wanders over our conversation and the impending arrival of next week. I wrap one arm around my pillow, burying the unease in favor of looming sleep.

Oh, Sweet Makers, I wish I never had to leave this bed.