13

Is this Home?

Basking in the infinite abyss of slumber is, for once, peaceful to my dreams. It isn't often when I am deep in sleep that the darkness swallows me whole, protecting me from my past and from my night terrors. It is freeing to be in this harmonious pit of nothingness.

Yet there is a rustling to my right.

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 the shadow 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."

The woman near the entrance walks further into the room, and her eyes meet mine as she curtsies. Her long wavy hair billows forward before rising, sweeping loose strands behind her ears.

"Hello, Your Majesty, I am Dorit, and I am to be your lady-in-waiting," her high, soft voice chimes.

I tilt my head in acknowledgment.

Jerrick claps his hands and startles me. "Wonderful. Now that you are awake, let's discuss our arrangement."

Jonas scoffs, eyes rolling. "Arrangement."

I fight to suppress a laugh when Jerrick shoots Jonas a hint of annoyance.

Jonas waves his brother, the king, off as he glares. "I am still pissed you didn't stick to the plan we discussed."

"I only tweaked a few things," Jerrick replies.

"A few things? You were supposed to talk to her and show her the decree! What kind of idiot kidnaps their betrothed and leaves a mess in his wake?" Jonas sits in the lounge chair, crossing his legs and folding his arms.

It is surprising to hear their strategy did not involve my kidnapping. But this argument could be part of a plan laid within a plan.

I glance to Dorit, who shrugs as if this is typical behavior for the two of them.

It does nothing to help me.

"You know that plan was shit! Besides, it's not like anyone knew who I was," Jerrick dismisses.

"King Bernard and Queen Verena were there! Not to mention their children! They know who you are, you imbecile!" Jonas lectures Jerrick, and a little puff of laughter escapes Dorit's mouth.

I muddle over the knowledge. Neither of the other kingdoms sought to warn me about my interactions with Jerrick during the celebrations, but maybe they assumed he was also invited.

Jerrick's scowl melts into Dorit as her lip curls inwardly, hiding her amusement.

He takes a breath, meeting his brother's gaze.

"Bernard and Queen Verena could not have said anything. They have not seen us since you and I were young. Besides, I thrive in making a little show of things," Jerrick says, eyes twinkling with mischief.

Jonas lifts his head to the ceiling, pinching the bridge of his nose as he sighs with exhaustion. "Our plan was better than you going about kidnapping your fiancé and leaving blood everywhere."

Jerrick rolls his eyes, then inspects his fingernails. "I didn't kill anyone."

Jonas covers his face as my protective instincts take hold.

"Excuse me," I start. "You killed my priest!"

How many of my people were hurt by this psychopath?

Another failure of ruling thrown into my face and will surely be used against me.

"Easy there, Frostbite." Jerrick lifts a hand in warning.

I clench my fists with frustration. "You killed my priest. That is not something I take lightly. And what did I tell you about calling me Frostbite?"

His lips lift in challenge as my anger boils. "What are you going to do about it?"

My rage thrashes and a jolt of ice awakens. I open my palms, hoping to shoot frost at him.

His eyes widen in surprise, and he ducks away as Jonas and Dorit's mouths drop.

A smug expression tugs at my lips, but I frown when nothing comes out of my hand.

Jerrick's eyes flash with haughtiness, knowing my magic won't summon itself forth.

"That's enough!" Jonas interjects, looking between us pointedly.

I drop my hands faster than my magic dies out.

What is happening to me? Why didn't my power stretch outward?

It did not even manifest along my skin.

I break away from Jerrick's stare, meeting Jonas and Dorit.

"My king, Your Majesty," Jonas says, hands raised in surrender.

Guilt festers as anger resigns in my blood, even as Jerrick rolls his eyes at his brother. The fear I've caused and the people I could have hurt cracks my heart open.

I might have just made matters worse for myself.

I could be forced to remain a prisoner, locked deep in their keep. Then I would never see my home, my family's graves, my people, Niko, or Betina ever again.

My face falls.

Mother's mirror.

I pat my body, frantically searching for the one thing holding me to my family and to my kingdom. I could try to reach someone on the other side from my bedchamber's vanity.

Glancing and moving around carefully, I lift bedsheets without hurting my shoulder, feeling for the one hope I have of home.

"What are you doing?" Jerrick asks.

"My mother's mirror, did I lose it?"

My voice cracks as panic rises.

I look toward the sides of the bed, hoping a bedside table or something is keeping it safe. Desperation twitches in my fingers, and I comb through my hair.

"It's here, Your Majesty," Dorit offers, walking toward the wardrobe. She pulls out a small item and approaches.

Tears flood my eyes, locking on Mother's mirror. I rip it from her hands, cradling it as a small speck of conviction blooms to life.

I blink rapidly, offering Dorit kindness the two men do not deserve. "Thank you."

She grins, further illuminating her beauty.

"Your Majesty," Jonas says, drawing my attention. "I know you do not trust us, but you need to hear us out."

I dart my attention back and forth between the King and the Prince of Palaena.

Jonas pulls a piece of rolled parchment from his vest. Jerrick takes it from his brother, waiting to place it in my hands.

Skepticism makes me hesitant, but Jerrick waves it again.

I rest Mother's mirror down, curiosity getting the better of me, as I grip the parchment and unfold it. I skim through the document, noting it is a royal decree of some sort.

My eyes widen in shock as I read the last few lines.

The kingdoms of Palaena and Axidoria hereby approve and document this decree as binding law. This agreement is joined and composed by the two kingdoms acting with the discretion of the Makers. The signatures below, by each of the ruling monarchs of Axidoria and Palaena, agree to the arrangement of marriage between...

My mouth drops as I read my name and Jerrick's and our parents' signatures at the bottom of the document. I note the fancy penmanship of King Ivan, the previous King of Palaena, shining brightly on the page.

Yet Mother's signature is small and tentative, stamped with her signet ring, the only evidence proving she did this.

I run my fingers over her name, questioning her actions.

I'll never forget the sound of Mother's screams, her constant words repeating that Father was gone, and she knew he was dead.

I wished I could have known—could have done something to stop it.

Mother took on Father's responsibilities but was still unable to forget they were separated. She would wail and weep, long into the hours of each night, distraught and broken that her love was taken away.

Mother fought with her advisors, claiming Palaena and King Ivan were behind it, insisting he needed to meet his end. She only backed down when she was advised repeatedly that she needed evidence before making such an accusation and that a fight would only bring more tragedy.

Not only that, but attacking Palaena would be the first time a kingdom disrupted the peace the Makers, and all kingdoms had upheld for generations.

But Mother was more adamant than I ever was.

She traveled to other kingdoms to seek help, especially Unterkirch, building a relationship with Queen Verena when her husband passed. And then Mother decided to draft a trade proposal between Axidoria and Palaena, one that would grant her an audience with King Ivan and a chance to find Father or get answers.

But when she packed her bags and never returned, I was left to believe Palaena was behind it.

But why is my name on a marriage agreement? Was this the trade proposal Mother devised?

It couldn't be.

The parchment in my hands falls as eyes bore into me, waiting to drag me further into my demise.

I look at the window.

The room remains silent as my thoughts twirl in chaos, trying to connect this information with everything I know.

Surely, this is all a sick, twisted nightmare.

"Did you force my mother into this and then kill her?" I demand, meeting Jerrick's face.

Jerrick's arms fold while his stern gaze regards me, choosing his next words very carefully.

"We did not kill her."

"You're lying!" I scream, tears forming from the blunt discussion of her death.

My mother is dead because I have inherited magic. If they claim they didn't kill her, what the Oblivion happened to her?

The men know exactly where my thoughts are because they glance at each other briefly when Jerrick repeats, "We did not kill your mother."

"You're all liars!" I shake my head.

Jonas's voice fills the void. "Why would we lie when she was the one that came here? She was the one who drafted this document and convinced our father to sign it! Why would she—"

Jonas stops, staring at the arm wrapped around his. The brothers silently communicate.

Jerrick shakes his head as Jonas heaves.

The hold lessens when Jonas nods, shaking his brother's lingering touch off and facing me.

"We didn't kill your mother, Queen Tove. We swear it," Jonas vows, frustration making his promise sharp.

He and Jerrick clasp a fist over their hearts and lower their heads.

The inside of my cheek scrapes against my teeth, and the tale they tell forces me to break away from their stares.

My mother leaves me like this. She knew how much I wanted to marry for love, like her and Father.

My jaw works as the three strangers linger in this bedchamber, knowing there is nothing and no one to trust here.

This is all a lie. A game for them to have more power. It has to be.

Mother would not do this to me. Yet denying her involvement does nothing to remove her signature and signet ring on this damned agreement.

A monarch's decree is law. Living or dead, decrees drafted by monarchs have always been handled with the utmost care because they are viewed as being a message passed down from the Makers.

Laws like this are always followed, never broken.

To disobey what another monarch created is viewed as denouncing the Makers. And if I myself, being a direct descendant of the Makers, were to ignore this decree?

The unknown forces fear to crawl up my throat.

I don't even want to imagine the consequences I will receive from the Makers when I die for not heeding this law for five years. Worry surges over me, my heart cracking with fear that my abilities could be a result of this.

But I had no knowledge of this.

I look once more at the decree, questions still running. This does not even grant me answers about what happened to my father.

I can't believe Jerrick and Jonas are telling me the truth. It does not make sense I am hearing about this five years after the death of my family.

Why is Palaena deciding to reveal this now?

The thought of more unanswered questions makes my head pound.

Jerrick rustles into the void. "We need to honor this agreement. A monarch's decree is law."

"Shut up," I mumble in anger, annoyed at how he is able to voice my own thoughts.

Happiness was out of my hands before I even considered marriage. My mother's betrayal and dismissal of my wishes sinks my heart to the floor.

I rub over my heart earnestly, desperately wishing to be anywhere but here, wishing none of this was real.

Another stabbing sensation digs into my chest at the memory of Niko. I could be home right now in his arms.

"What if I sweetened this marriage arrangement for you?" Jerrick offers, knowing I'm backed into a corner.

I've been kidnapped, I'm in enemy territory, and now I'm being told I have to marry because of something my mother drafted when she was still alive. I remain silent, knowing whatever offer he has would do nothing to improve this situation.

I have to follow this regardless of whether I want to or not.

If I refuse, I might never have the chance to see my family again in the afterworld.

"If you agree to marry me and agree to help unite the kingdoms of Axidoria and Palaena as your mother and my father orchestrated with this decree, I will help you train your magic."

I flick my gaze to him, and sarcasm crosses my features. "And what makes you think you know anything about my magic?"

"Sweet Makers," Jonas mumbles out, earning a chuckle from Dorit and a scowl from Jerrick.

They both squirm inwardly, elbowing each other like a band of misfits before Jerrick turns to me, ignoring them.

"You aren't the only one with magic, Frostbite," Jerrick says.

Trepidation pulses in my fingertips, the idea of harnessing my power comes with a great reward. If I learn more about my magic, I could stop Axidoria's ongoing winter, and if I stay here, maybe I will uncover the truth about my family.

I drag my teeth across my lip as I think of the news reaching Niko.

A thickness builds in my throat, frightened at the thought of not being with him.

I blink rapidly, forcing my emotions to remain at bay until I am left alone in this dreadful place.

"Trade and new routes will need to be better established between our kingdoms," I demand, meeting Jerrick's smirk as he takes the decree and rolls it up, tucking into his shirt.

"We will work it all out." Jerrick turns toward Jonas, issuing his command. "I am sure plenty of our people will be excited to have expanded trade routes."

"You are going to be the death of me," Jonas mumbles as he rises and adjusts his tucked shirt and vest.

He swishes his belt around, making sure his sword and dagger are properly displayed.

"Don't tempt me," Jerrick warns.

I look between the two and see Jonas wave away his brother's threat, facing me and lowering into a bow. "It shouldn't be a problem, and we will talk soon, Your Majesty."

"You might as well go ahead and start calling me Tove," I say to Jonas, choosing to play along with this charade for now.

"The wedding needs to happen within the next week. Privately. I don't want this to get out to the people until the other kingdoms have been notified," Jerrick says.

"That can be arranged," Jonas replies.

My face falls. In a week? I just woke up.

I try to interrupt, but they are already walking toward the exit.

Jerrick holds the door for Dorit and Jonas, extending his arm to the latter. They clasp each other at the elbow, smiling.

Dorit offers me a small curtsy before turning to leave with Jonas.

They are leaving to make everything happen while I am stuck here in bed.

"What do you get out of this?" I call back to Jerrick, halting his steps.

He peers over, those blue eyes tracing down the entire length of my body. A sinful smirk splays on his lips.

"You," the King of Palaena says in a low voice full of lust. He winks, sweeping the door closed and leaving me alone in a new nightmare.