31

Cataclysm

The clink and clatter of each dish Ophelia washes is the only reminder that I am delaying the inevitable. Her tall frame hunches over the basin, scrubbing with a different amount of strength as Cordelia dries each one, placing them into a stack on the opposite workstation.

Their silent workflow and loving touches mesmerize my attention as I sit and help myself to a few of the hot rolls Cordelia pulled from the hearth.

"If you avoid it any longer, he is going to show up and drag you to the training arena himself," Ophelia chides, accidentally dropping a clean dish into the filled sink.

Cordelia inclines her head in agreement.

I hate being rushed.

"I need to eat first," I lie while taking another bite of the fifth fresh buttery roll I've treated myself to this morning.

"Sure." Cordelia faces me with a stack full of plates.

Placing them on the counter, she wipes her hands on her apron, giving me the look. "I know our cooking and company is great, but we know who you'd much rather be spending your time with." Cordelia puckers her lips in a kissing motion, breaking into a wicked smirk.

I pause at the jab when Ophelia snorts. Without thinking, I aim two rolls at their foreheads.

Cordelia sees it coming and ducks, and shockingly, the roll strikes true and smacks Ophelia on the back of her head.

A dish falls, splattering water all over her as she turns to face me, rubbing her sore spot. "Hey!" Ophelia exclaims, but I point at them.

"I said one nice thing about him, and now the two of you are jumping to conclusions thinking that I—"

"Thinking what?"

Cordelia and Ophelia's eyes go wide at the low voice filling the room.

I lower my hand as my friends drop into a curtsy before flashing me a sneaky grin as they resume their tasks. I roll my eyes at the low snickers they give when they return to their duties.

Intrusive thoughts have me stuffing the bread I was eating in my mouth, seeking for something, anything, to get me out of answering his question.

Footsteps indicate he's moved closer, the usual leather and cologne scent lighter, replaced by something crisp as Jerrick meets me at my side.

Jerrick's command echoes in the void. "Clear the area, please, ladies."

While I chew through the roll, I plead for them to stay, only to watch them leave without a second thought. I shake my head, realizing too late I could have commanded them to stay, forcing confusion between the four of us and keeping me in the kitchens versus the training arena.

Not that I am scared of training. I'm scared of each day inching us closer to the ball.

Betina and I spoke last night, confirming Niko and I will be able to talk alone soon. While I should rejoice in seeing his face, I can't shake the feeling of calling his plan off.

I don't want to hurt anyone, yet I can't stop thinking if the plan works, the ones hurt the most would be me and Jerrick.

Jerrick guides the chair out next to me, sitting down and folding his hands. "You were supposed to meet me for training this morning."

I swallow the remainder of my food, reaching for another roll to delay my response, only to have him snatch my hand, halting my efforts. I hiss at the light shove and glare at him.

He glares right back.

"Let's go." He pushes from the bench.

Sighing in defeat, I rise as Jerrick turns to leave the kitchens, expecting me to follow.

He leads, and I chase after him, his long strides making it difficult to keep up. I wish he would match my stride, remembering the countless times he's done it before, only to wipe away the thought.

This brisk walk is a form of reprimand for not being on time.

The doors into the training arena are opened by the guards standing nearby. They offer a silent nod as Jerrick dismisses them. I thank them as we pass through.

Jerrick walks straight into the center circle as he removes his tightened vest, sword belt, and dagger. He gestures to everything surrounding us.

Stone rises along the walls and pillars, holding most of the architecture of the training area. A few of the columns are shadowed and hidden away, with some benches and equipment holding weapons. The overhang bordering the domain is less shaded than I remember when I toured the castle.

The center of the grounds is roped off into a circle lined with sand. Buckets and towels are on the outer edge near stacks of hay. A sweltering breeze drifts throughout, causing the sand in the circle to rise and fall.

I forwent a dress today, opting for the tunic and trousers I have grown comfortable wearing, knowing pants would grant me more of a reprieve from falling flat on my face.

I trudge through the piles of sand and join Jerrick in the center as he rests his sword against a stack of hay.

His hair is fully tied back instead of his normal half-back look, displaying his scar fully with no shame. The ruggedness is harsh but handsome, his features still sending my stomach into a nervous frenzy of lust.

The fire within me is extinguished when he commands sternly, "Now, show me."

I swallow down the fear, doubt, and failure, trying to remember the readings and meditation I've combed through. The muscle memory kicks in, the small flickers of magic growing more from the little practice I've done at the end of a long day.

I remind myself that this is for Axidoria, no matter how overwhelming my stress has grown as of late. My eyes drift closed, combatting my emotions. If I am not in tune with myself, my magic won't call to me.

My breathing is easy to track, the beginning of this process easier each time. My thoughts wander. I coax the thrall of power to life and tap into it, feeding and nurturing it while denying the darkness of my heart.

Liar, betrayer, monster.

My magic flares, pulsing in my body, and I wince.

I mask my deceit, needing the ice and frost to listen, to obey, to manifest. I settle back on breathing when my gift tries to seep out beyond my intentions.

A shift in the sand breaks my concentration. Anger curls in my gut at the distraction, needing this training to work now more than ever.

I open my eyes to Jerrick nearing, and I can't stop my venom. "Keep away from me," I demand, wanting and needing to make vast progress.

Jerrick's surprise at my anger restrains him from ignoring my request.

My small victory dies when I glance down, a gasp of shock escaping me. I jump back from the frost shooting outward, ice blooming above the sand.

I peer over to Jerrick, whose eyes widen as he inspects my power.

Shit, I wasn't expecting that.

Power still courses deep in my chest, my concern at the mess and Jerrick taking more precedence.

"Brilliant," he commends, taking a step toward the ice. "This is the perfect way to test your idea from yesterday."

Panic grips my heart as he advances.

I shake my head, my power twinkling with delight at my fear surfacing and its winter flourishing on the ground. My emotions coax more magic to flood from me.

I can't focus on that right now; he is still approaching.

I stretch my hand out in warning. "No, don't!"

Frost bursts from my fingertips directly for him.

He lunges out of harm's way, following where the swirls of snow flurries lead, on a pile of hay that has ice expanding in all directions.

I gape in horror. I've done it again.

Jerrick glances back and forth as I stare at the hay, and my hand in distress. Now, instead of magic coming from my core, it's stemming from the ends of my hands and feet, cold air sizzling as small snowflakes bloom down my palm.

"No, please stop," I plea to the Makers.

This is too much. This is what happened when my powers first manifested.

Cracking and the bitter plunge of disaster excite my cursed winter even more.

I want to focus on meditating, but memories come crashing in.

"Frostbite."

Caution laces Jerrick's voice.

My heart breaks because this day is not going as he had planned, and he will become another person to fear me.

"I-I can't stop it!"

Everything I've learned and read about is tossed to the side, replaced with the past. My heart hammers in my throat, my pulse quickening with terror.

"I know you can," Jerrick says softly, stepping closer.

My past relives itself before my very eyes, and I take yet another step away from him. "Please, don't come any closer, Jer."

Guilt claws underneath my skin as tears line my eyes.

I… I can't control myself. I will never be able to control myself.

I can't blink my tears away fast enough as Jerrick ignores my plea, coming closer and closer, my heart breaking more and more, forcing me further and further.

"Just try."

His voice breaks softly, and I contort from the visible pain etched on his features.

Just try.

Those two words cut deeper than any I've ever heard from Jerrick. The repeated words haunt me and plague me. He isn't affected by the frost yet, and regret and horror of the past replaying itself again in front of me is the only hope I hold.

My heart breaks as I give him a final look in apology before closing my eyes to try the impossible.

A tear escapes, and it warms my cold cheeks slightly, drying slowly, as I turn all my attention to it.

No worries, no fears, no feelings.

Just the focus and awareness of my body.

From my head to my toes, I figuratively run through every nerve, every tendon, every muscle of my body. Searching and scouring for that fleck of abnormality that is and isn't a part of me.

My magic has always come from my core, the sensation of it being a somersault of kisses coasting up and around me. Yet this time, my power darted forth without any notice, and I'll be damned if I let it happen again.

"That's it, good girl," Jerrick encourages.

The enticement of pleasing him and not failing him increases my drive as a long-inhaled breath leads me to where that flicker of power stems from.

My heart.

My lips quiver as air leaves my lungs, and more tears fall down my cheeks.

I paint the image of my heart, bitter and frozen from the power rippling from it. A figurative hand reaches to hold and cradle it close, and I want to turn away from the cold and the frost, but it is a part of me.

It is a part of me I need to harness and live with.

With effort, I try to pull from past and present, moments that are with and without my magic. I fight to keep my emotions in check, knowing many of my happy memories are now connected with sadness and grief.

But I push through the darkness, allowing myself to feel.

The first ballad I composed, Runa's talented voice paired up in the accompaniment, Mother and Father's loving faces and hugs. Betina's laugh and taunts like ones I would get from Niko.

The first time I manifested snow…

The wonderment, the awe.

I push beyond, recollecting the brief times I've felt comforted by my gift, Jerrick's presence integral to a lot of those moments.

I imagine his dimple, his spontaneous sincerity, and his kiss. Our entire history replays itself in my mind, lingering most on his teachings and understanding him.

Contorting my face, I sniff deeply through the brighter moments of life I've experienced, and finally choosing to wrap them around my heart with love instead of mourning, hoping my magic will listen, will understand.

Dorit's kind words about my grief being a part of me as well as healing becoming a part of me drift in the back of my mind.

I am not happy nor am I sad. I am both. I am all and so my magic should be.

The overwhelming acknowledgment repeats in my mind. I replay and relive each memory as if they were each a prayer, over and over, beginning to lose track of how many times I've repeated it.

The endless pit of regret grows with each passing day, and I finally find my breath easy to track.

Inhale.

You're doing the best you can, Tove.

Exhale.

It is okay not to be okay.

Inhale.

Frostbite.

Exhale.

Just try.

Hands land on me, and a yelp escapes at the pale blue eyes so close, so near, to mine.

Jerrick's features are glowing from the wide grin he wears, dimple on full display and teeth shining brightly.

"You did it." He points at the impacted stack of hay behind him, showing all signs of frost and ice gone.

I stopped it from expanding and drew it back into myself, but the toll of doing that small amount was crippling.

I am nowhere near ready for the magnitude of drawing in Axidoria's winter.

I can't even melt ice.

I don't think I'll ever be able to—

Concern laces his question, noticing the lack of joy on my end. "Wh-What's wrong?"

The respite of Jerrick unharmed floods my thoughts. His words, my exhaustion, and the realization of how far I still have to go pull me back into the void of despair.

I clamp down to suppress the well of emotions stirring, but I slump and my lips tremble.

I can't do this here.

The need to escape, his proximity, and the breakthrough I made buckles me down. I drop my head, arms folding around me as I recoil from his touch.

I kick off against the unfrozen sand as I make a run for it, tears running down my cheeks as I break apart more and more. The sharp sting of unworthiness and guilt push me faster toward the exit.

I almost make it to the threshold of the training arena before something hard yanks my arm, whipping me against a wall. I hide my face, pushing through my exhaustion to escape Jerrick's hold.

He responds by pushing his hips into mine.

I'm unable to think with how right it feels to have him close, the haunted unknown of hurting him sending tremors throughout my body as I fall apart. I avert my gaze, trying to escape, but Jerrick shakes me, halting my fight.

"Look at me, Frostbite," he orders, his voice oozing with power as he towers over me, the nickname making everything worse.

If I hurt him, I never will hear him call me that again.

A choked whimper escapes, and I cover my mouth.

Jerrick holds my chin, looking down the bridge of his nose. My tear-filled eyes meet his, the anger diminishing from his gaze and softening.

"Tell me what is wrong." This time, the order comes with more of a plea, tenderness filling the dip in his voice. "Don't hide your pain from me."

I shake my head as the well of emotions burst, and I break.

He relaxes his hold on me as I burrow into him. I clutch his tunic, crying harder in this small space he has engulfed me in, knowing I don't deserve this.

I don't deserve any of this.

The guilt of my deception joins in with the rest of the memories eating at me when his cologne floods my senses. My magic is spent from the breakthrough, my body is spent from the lies I've told and the memories that won't shut off.

He pulls me from the wall, arms wrapping me tightly, trying to anchor me to the present. Even the kindness of his touch forces my cries to turn into hyperventilating.

"I'm here, Frostbite. Let me help you," he whispers delicately, cradling my head.

I weep, tremors rocking through me and refusing to abate. "Y-Y-You can't h-h-help me."

He tugs on my braid, forcing my neck back. The concern in his expression breaks my heart even more.

To think, if I didn't control myself, I would have lost him.

"Please, let me?"

His voice cracks from the smallest of movements of his mouth, carrying the softest of pleas I've ever heard.

My tears fall as I reach to hold his face for the first time, my heart swelling when he doesn't react, grateful he is someone who doesn't flinch or cower away from the monster I am.

I pull his forehead to mine, sobbing through each strenuous syllable. "I-I almost lost you how I lost her."

"Lost who?" Jerrick asks between my shaky inhaled breaths.

I confess through a choked sob, "Runa."

The memory of her death and what I'd done hit me full force, a part of my life I will never escape.

I cling tightly to Jerrick, clutching him close and squeezing, as my demons voice my greatest loss. "I almost killed you how I killed my sister."