11

Who's to Blame?

My eyes flutter open.

Biala Forest surrounds me with the soft light of the upcoming sunset peeking through the tree branches and leaves.

Memories force their way to the surface, remembering my wedding, Niko, Rick, and an arrow to my shoulder.

Bile coats my throat at the searing pain and begs for escape. Deities, why doesn't anything ever play out right for me?

I must be cursed.

"I should have known you'd pass out," a voice sighs.

I glare at my kidnapper as he tosses a swig of water from his pack while a small fire warms near me. I try to move my body, stopping when raw pain explodes. Hissing at the tenderness of it, I look down.

"This is your fault," I seethe through gritted teeth.

A jacket covers me as I lie on my side. I try to lift it, struggling through each breath. But my eyes widen at the amount of blood covering my gown, the sensation of tearing echoing in my head and body.

A groan escapes as Rick's rich voice chuckles. "You could at least say thank you for reviving you after fainting for the second time in my presence."

All I can think to do is stick my tongue out. Warmth blooms behind my cheeks at the childish behavior, but I cannot even contemplate moving another inch with the arrow still lodged in my upper back.

Of course, Rick laughs again, and I wish I could smack the amusement off his face. His expression turns conniving as his blue eyes meet mine, the fire illuminating his features.

"Better watch what you do with that tongue of yours, My Queen, or I'll be forced to do something about it."

"Fuck you," I lash out.

He will sorely regret saying that.

I might not be able to do anything—but if word of me being injured gets back to Niko, he will unleash Oblivion upon Rick.

His eyes grow hard and heavy, deep with desire as he clicks his tongue. "Oh, we will get to that eventually… after we wed, of course." He shrugs with nonchalance, and I scowl deeper. "I'm a gentleman, after all."

Anger rises within me. "Your idea of marrying me will never count in my kingdom."

Rick cocks his head, leaning in as he asks, "Who said anything about your kingdom?"

I roll my eyes with annoyance. "You can't be serious. There is no way you'll get away with kidnapping a queen. Niko will—"

Rick applies pressure to my right arm, a wave of new torturous pain rippling through me.

I shriek in frustration and agony and annoyance that my emotions, my body, always take the lead over my mind.

Will there ever be an occasion, a day, or a time where I won't be consumed by pain, distress, and grief? Will I ever learn not to cry?

Everything fucking hurts.

He removes his hold and pulls me upright, forcing another roar of pain from me.

Rick chuckles darkly. "Who said anything about your kingdom?"

My eyes widen when a shadow descends over Rick's features, his darkened gaze growing knowingly as his lips lift.

Fear sinks in.

I scan my surroundings once more.

Biala Forest is at the border of Axidoria, and that means… No.

The only other kingdom close enough is—

No. No. No. No. NO!

This isn't happening. My heart slows, and the hair on the back of my neck rises.

This can't be happening.

Rick's stare remains intent on me as the pieces fall into place, and my mouth runs dry.

"Y-You're—" I gulp down air despite my throat closing.

Goose bumps prickle against my skin as Rick stands, offering me an exaggerated bow. He remains bent at the waist, but those ice-cold eyes flick up to meet mine.

"King Jerrick of Palaena."

The King of Palaena…

His dimple appears. "It is a pleasure to officially meet you, My Queen."

I am such an idiot.

Fury reverberates beyond the tingling in my shoulder as rage boils over. Anger latches around my heart, dismissing the interest I had to this man—this monster who calls himself the King of Palaena.

Fuck attraction.

His kingdom is behind my family's deaths.

Hatred oozes to the surface in the presence of my enemy.

I always suspected Palaena was behind their deaths but never proved it.

The rumors surrounding my family and their early graves follow me as much as my dreaded nickname. But everyone in Axidoria was told my family's deaths involved traveling on business.

When my mother and sister died, we used the same explanation. For all we know, they could have died during travel, gotten attacked by animals, or murdered by bandits.

Or taken prisoner and assassinated by Palaena.

But I could not say that aloud without backing my claims up for fear of the Makers' wrath.

I had Niko lead the investigation. We sent our best spies and many letters, even resorted to mercenaries. No word ever came back, and neither did the people.

The false hope, the cost of that while trying to feed my kingdom, plus the pressure of seeking answers took a toll on my heart. My grief, my powers, and my attempts to rule a kingdom were already unbearable, and I needed to make a choice.

Without any proof, I knew I would not be able to do anything. And as much as I wanted and needed that closure, I called it off.

I couldn't bear to look into it anymore but hoped, one day, I could.

The same thing happened when Mother believed Palaena was behind Father's death. She tried to convince our priests and the other kingdoms to help go against Palaena.

But they all knew this was a serious accusation and could not be taken lightly.

It was the first potential attack against a neighboring kingdom, and to avoid the wrath of the Makers, the priests and the other four kingdoms required proof.

It would gain Mother support, so she left with a plan for trade to grant an audience with the King of Palaena.

She, too, never came back.

I tried to argue the disappearance of my family was evidence enough. But Niko, the priests, and the other kingdoms agreed it was not.

But through this monster's smugness before me, I know they are behind my family's deaths.

My heart falls into a frenzy, my mind calling forth my magic with a sense of urgency. I plea, leaning into resentment and vengeance to awaken my power to keep this monster away.

Winter sings in my bones, caressing a chilling breath as it creeps up my spine. Exertion from anger and pain leave me heaving. The sharp, bitter cold forces my teeth to chatter as a numbing sensation runs down my arms.

I yelp in alarm, staring in shock at the frost glimmering on my skin. Gasps of panic escape over the terror of my magic working against me.

Rick—or Jerrick—squats in front of me, covering my arms with his hands, warmth dissolving the swirls of ice on me.

Despite his assistance, it does nothing to suppress the vengeance I wish to seek against him and his family.

Recoiling from his touch, I pray to the Makers my magic will sync up with my rage and help me.

"Get your hands off of me," I demand.

"Feeling warmer yet, Frostbite?"

I clench my jaw, hatred seething through my teeth. "Don't call me that."

His onyx hair blows in the wind, softening his features. "Then, get a hold of your magic and breathe like a normal person, or I'll be forced to distract you."

I sneer underneath his gaze, perplexed by what he could mean by "distract me."

My magic continues to manifest along my skin, and even the tinge of frost causes more pain. I fight against his hold still trying to warm me, unsure of how he is doing this.

Fury and fear intermingle with one another, pairing together in a dance with my magic that could actually kill me if I do not get it to stop appearing on my skin.

I glance down at my arms, my breath visible. Slowly, I struggle to calm my anger, my fear, and fight through the pain.

Sections of my arms thicken in frost, causing panic to take root, sending memories rushing to the surface. I flinch, closing my eyes to the memory of snow turning into ice and cracking as it expands.

"Get a hold of yourself," Jerrick commands.

Panic grips my heart as the cold refuses to quiet, slowly taking over.

My visible fear meets Jerrick.

He springs into action, shooting forward and clashing his lips to mine.

My eyes widen in shock, his hold on my arms squeezing tightly, but his forced kiss warms my cheeks. Heat streamlines across my face, drifting underneath my skin as more warmth envelops me. Lightness takes over my body, relaxing.

I close my eyes, falling into the kiss as the pain ebbs away. It's warm and soft and deepens as his cologne intertwines with the bitter cold of my breath.

Sensation returns to me as Jerrick peels away, lingering for a final peck before withdrawing completely. My skin burns up, and it isn't until Jerrick releases me that the feeling lessens.

I open my eyes, stunned and staring into beautiful ice-blue eyes.

Jerrick winks as reality comes crashing in.

"Did you just fucking kiss me!?" I exclaim, bringing my good hand up to rub his lingering essence from my mouth as it remains open in shock.

"It worked, didn't it?" Jerrick flicks his eyes down to my sides.

I glance down at myself in wonder.

My arms are no longer coated with frost, and the well of power has completely vanished. My magic has always had its moments, but this is the second time it has directed its powers internally instead of outwardly.

Could it be because of this man?

My eyes linger on my wedding gown. A wedding gown that was tailored and designed for my wedding day. My wedding day to Niko, my fiancé.

And here I am with my enemy kissing me.

Guilt swirls and gnaws in my core, and I might vomit at my own realization.

I can't believe I did this to Niko. Kissing another man on my wedding day.

Deities, take me now.

Damn him for stealing that when it could have been Niko's mouth on mine all day today. I reach for my mouth, tempted to force myself to vomit and remove his scent still lingering on my clothes.

"I warned you I would be forced to distract you," he taunts as he rests on one knee, still too close to me.

"Kissing me was your version of distracting?"

I am furious that whatever he did worked. I roll my eyes in annoyance when his smirk turns wickedly delicious, and a damned dimple appears, making him stupidly more attractive.

"You kissed back, and your magic stopped," Jerrick teases.

"You can't kiss me!"

"And why not?" He tilts his head, as if the logic I give him is confusing.

"Because I am engaged!"

His crooked grin appears. "Yes, to me."

I scrub my face and drop my head, groaning in defeat. "Not this again."

The stretching of my emotions and body are beyond the limits of comfort. Bit by bit, my heart fractures, as this never-ending nightmare continues.

"Magic is different for most everyone to harness, but you are going about it completely wrong." Jerrick directs our conversation elsewhere.

I am minimally grateful, even when he waves his hand, as if I didn't already know I am using my magic wrong. Of course I am using it wrong. No one has ever had these abilities before!

"I don't want my magic," I grind out.

"Why not?" He rests a hand on his hip.

"It's a curse."

Jerrick slackens.

I attempt to wrap my arm around my body, and I hate how refreshing it is to admit that to someone. I hate that the someone was him.

Glancing away, something glints.

Recognition dawns, and a defeated whimper escapes as my mother's handheld mirror reflects in the firelight.

My heart fractures when I grab it, inspecting it to see a small crack in the upper corner.

No.

"What is that?" Jerrick asks, observing me.

Clutching the mirror to my chest, I protect it. "None of your business." I scowl.

He reaches toward me, and my anger kicks in. "Don't touch me!"

Pain and fear intermingle inside at the thought of him touching me again. Hurting me again or kissing me again—I don't want any of those things.

I prepare for the pain to explode, but Jerrick holds my waist, forcing me to stop. I meet those fierce eyes I am growing to loathe, only to be met with his soft chuckle.

"There's the little Frostbite."

"I swear to Yeva if you call me that one more time—"

"You'll what? You'll freeze me over like you have your kingdom?" He bounces back.

I clench my jaw in silence.

He smirks at my lack of remark, but I stick to it, fearful of saying anything that could have him take my mother's mirror away. It is my only hope of reaching home.

Let this monster who calls himself a king think he knows everything there is about the Snow Queen of Axidoria.

I clutch my mother's mirror tighter.

Jerrick studies me in silence, rolling his eyes in exasperation and stepping around to examine my injury. He mutters "Dammit," and I turn to him in question, the movement pinching down my neck.

"You've lost a lot of blood. And because of that, I cannot—nor do I want to—remove the arrow, or you'll surely bleed out. We need to keep going if you want to live." Grabbing me, Jerrick adds, "This is going to hurt like Oblivion for you."

I attempt to shake from his hold, but he leans in, whispering softly, "I've got you."

An odd comfort from the tenderness behind his words reminds me of the charm and compassion I'd seen from him before today's catastrophe. Putting aside our differences, I tell myself to live now, fight tomorrow.

If you can even make it that long, Tove.

Knowing I am out of options, I exhale one long breath, fitting Mother's mirror back in my pocket before placing my hand in my captor's and bracing for the pain.

He shifts his weight to stand, allowing me something to hold on to.

I fight through the dizziness and the yelp of agony from the movement of my joints.

Expelling the air from my lungs, I push forward as my hold tightens on Jerrick. I make it to my knees, and my head rocks, fighting the vertigo threatening to steal me under. I let my body play catch-up.

Jerrick holds my hand, waiting patiently. It is thoughtful and makes despising him harder. He gives me a signal to move again, and I respond in tune, rising fully upright.

Heaviness begs to take me down, but Jerrick reaches around me carefully, holding me close and allowing me support as he guides me to the side of the horse.

Black dots mesh with the lightly frozen forest in front of the beast. I focus on blinking the darkness away as I clutch Jerrick, hating the need for his assistance.

I bite my lip as we approach the horse, my lack of experience with animals making me wary, along with trying to figure out how to even mount the steed.

"You'll be riding sidesaddle in the front," Jerrick says, already ahead of my train of thought.

My mouth falls.

Being this is the second time I have ridden a horse in my life, I do not have any desire to ride sidesaddle. Why couldn't I have been kidnapped in a cushiony carriage?

"I-I can't—"

"It is the only way for the arrow not to be jostled during transit."

I dart back and forth between the reins and the saddle, fear turning my palms sweaty.

"You'll have me to lean against for support," he says with a taunting smirk.

That is not comforting. But my own cowardice must be shining because Jerrick helps my leg into the stirrup, leaving me hanging in an awkward position as he turns to smother the fire, jogging back and mounting the steed with ease.

He pulls me up faster than I anticipated, my muscles stretching and my arm almost dislodging.

"I don't need to lose another limb!" I scold.

He laughs and eases me back against him. "There, there, Frostbite."

I bristle at the nickname, seething. "Stop. Calling. Me. That."

Jerrick's lips tick upward as I awkwardly wrap my left arm around him, abhorring myself for leaning into my enemy for support.