14. Dove

14

DOVE

O ur walk through the halls is quiet.

Thankfully, the silence is not as awkward as it was at dinner the night before. Something unspoken rests between us. His plea to let me see the male he once was latched onto my heart. The truth is, I want to know him—to learn who he was and who he could become. I want to understand what he did to have this curse placed upon him.

“My father, the first Frost King, built this palace as a wedding present for my mother.” We pass by a crumbling wall where frost spreads like cobwebs. Frosty’s lips pull down. “It was quite magnificent when it was well maintained.”

“It’s lovely,” I say. We take our fourth right turn down another dilapidated hallway. “But terribly confusing to navigate.”

Frosty chuckles, and the sound sends shivers down my spine.

“That’s by design. It was built as a refuge for them. The magic woven into the palace keeps unwelcome visitors lost in its labyrinth. Give it time, and the castle will reveal itself to you.”

His steps falter along the carpet. He turns towards me with wide eyes.

“I—I had forgotten that.” Heat flares inside his eyes. “With you here, memories are unlocking.”

I give a small smile. “I’m glad.”

We continue our journey, plunging into silence once more. He glances over at me as I try to keep pace with him.

“What about your family?” he asks before flinching away. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have—well, with everything?—”

“It’s okay,” I say. “I’m happy to talk about them. If I break the curse, I’ll return to them soon enough, right?”

An emotion ghosts over his features, but he quickly recovers with a nod.

“I have a mother and a sister fifteen years younger than me. She was a bit of a surprise to both of my parents, but Sophia was a gift. Papa got sick shortly after she was born and passed away before her first birthday.” A familiar sadness clogs my throat. “I wish she could’ve known him. He was a wonderful father.”

“I understand the pain of losing one’s parent. I am sorry for your loss, Dove.”

“Thank you,” I say, blinking away my tears. “Anyways, we never had much—even less so after Papa was gone. But we had love, so much of it I didn’t realize how lucky I was. Mama is caring and a phenomenal baker. Sophia is a thoughtful girl of ten.”

Their faces swim in my mind, and I tuck them deep within my heart. I will be reunited with them again. I know it in my soul.

Frosty nods his head.

“You were fortunate to know such love. We don’t know how lucky we are until it’s gone,” he says. His gaze darkens slightly. “Was there anyone else you spent your time with? Friends? Lovers?”

I wrinkle my nose.

“Mama, Sophia, and I lived at the edge of town. I didn’t have much time for friends due to all the work needed to keep our small farm going. No time for lovers either, I’m afraid.” I let out a humorless chuckle. “There were a few marriage offers from one particularly enamored man, but I wouldn’t wed him. Not for all the silver in the world.”

“Hmm,” Frosty makes a non-commital noise while his face tightens.

My answer doesn’t seem to agree with him even if he was the one who wished to know. We continue in silence until we reach a set of heavy doors. Each one has the standard silver snowflake adorning each door—the handles gleam as if polished recently.

The Frost King clears his throat before turning towards me.

“I wanted to show you this first. It was always my favorite room.”

I watch as he presses down on the handles, and the large doors fly open. The breath stills in my lungs as I take a staggering step forward. It’s a library. My village only had one meager book vendor that sold old, worn copies at a high price my family could never afford.

My eyes widen as I take in the wonder of this room. It stretches back as far as the eye can see. Long work tables with plush chairs line the center before tapering off into a grand fireplace surrounded by leather loveseats. A large painting of the Frost Mountains hangs over the mantel.

Marble with silver-veining comprises the walls and flooring. There are three levels to the library. Each one is filled with rows and rows of books, sparkling with the light streaming in from the wall of windows. I incline my neck to take it all in. All of this wondrous knowledge is nestled here—at my fingertips—and yet?—

Frosty comes up behind me. I feel his warmth along my back. I can’t bring myself to face him lest he see the color swimming in my cheeks and sweat breaking out along my brow.

“I thought you might enjoy spending some time in here. Who knows? Maybe some forgotten secrets are tucked into the old tomes.”

His tone is light—jovial—but it does little to relieve the lump in my throat. When I say nothing, he walks in front of me with lowered brows.

“Dove?”

I can’t meet his gaze. Instead I drop my eyes to trace the sparkling silver along the floor.

“It would matter little if they were,” I say, heat spreading down my neck and attacking my chest. “I—I can’t read.”

My truth lands at our feet, and I want to sweep it away—to hide. Mama and I never learned, nor did Sophia. Our village only had one teacher, and the price of school was too great for my family to afford. Papa could read some, but never enough to teach us.

An ugly emotion swims in my stomach, and I wait for the King’s ridicule. He must be disappointed that the person he chose to help save the realm can’t even spell her name. However, will I break the curse?

Anger burns through the embarrassment. It is his fault for taking me. I never asked to be his prisoner or his savior. If he is to mock me for?—

A warm hand cups my face and drags my eyes towards his blue ones. They glow with sincerity—not a trace of pity to be found. Dark blue blooms on his cheeks and nose as I realize with a start he’s blushing, too.

“Please don’t hide from me,” he whispers.

I swallow against my dry throat. “I—there was no one around to teach me. My parents couldn’t afford schooling, so?—”

“Then I will teach you. You’re a smart young woman—you’ll pick it up quickly.” His thumb grazes my jaw. “You're one of the cleverest people I’ve ever met.”

I raise a brow. “How many humans have you met?”

A deeper shade of blue colors his cheeks.

“Well,” he pauses, “none before you. But I know you're bright. And kind.”

Despite myself, I feel my lips twist into a grin.

“In five hundred years, I’m the first human you’ve ever met?”

“I feel like it’s imperative to remind you I’ve been cursed for four hundred and fifty of those years.” He gives me an indulgent smile. “You don’t have to tell me. I look amazing for my age.”

A laugh puffs from my lips, the last vestiges of tension leaving me.

“I assume frost elves age differently than humans?”

“Slower.” He gestures towards his face—nary a wrinkle to be found. “Clearly.”

“Hmm,” I hum. “Mama always said to help an elder whenever I could. I suppose that’s what I’m doing now.”

His smile shows off two rows of perfect, white teeth.

“An elder? You wound me. I don’t look a day over three-hundred-and-forty-six.”

His hand drifts lower on my cheek, gently skimming over my jaw and neck—goosebumps break out along my flesh. Being with him shouldn’t feel effortless, yet there is a familiarity between us as if we have known each other for longer than a day.

Frosty’s hands linger on the pendant at my throat. The longing in his eyes burns me alive.

“You don’t have to,” I whisper. “Teach me to read.”

Determination settles along his features.

“I want to. Let me be the one to guide you. Please, Dove.”

Not knowing what else to say, I nod.

Frosty inhales deeply, his eyes briefly falling shut. His whole body shivers as he slowly opens them. Their glow is so intense that it nearly causes me to lower mine. Dropping his hand from my throat, he drapes it along the small of my back and guides me towards one of the tables.

Nestling upon the upholstered chair, the Frost King waves his hand, and a blank piece of parchment appears. Next to it is a quill and a small pot of black ink. Frosty settles into the seat beside me, our legs brushing under the table. Awareness prickles my skin, and I try to still my trembling hand.

“Do you know how to spell your name?” he asks.

Reluctantly, I shake my head, tendrils of hair falling loose from my braid.

“Then that will be our first lesson.”

Pulling the parchment toward himself, he gently dips the quill into the inkpot. Once coated in the black substance, he settles the tip atop the paper and elegantly scrolls four symbols. My name. It looks beautiful, even if the symbols—letters—mean nothing to me.

“Here, try and replicate each shape that I did.”

Taking the quill from him, it fits awkwardly in my grip. My pressure is off, and my penmanship is shaky at best. I try to copy what the King did, but my work is a crude imitation. Setting the quill down, the two sets of letters couldn’t look less alike if they tried.

“It’s terrible.”

A warm hand rests on my leg and gives me a gentle squeeze. Lifting my head, I meet his eyes shining with pride.

“You are trying. That’s all that matters.” He squeezes my leg again before pushing back in his chair. “Your grip on the quill is too harsh. Allow me.”

He stands beside me and gently adjusts my hand around the quill. Fitting his hand atop mine, my heart races as he slides our joined hand over the parchment. Over and over, we spell my name until we need more ink.

My hand tingles as he gently pulls away.

“You try again,” he encourages.

Slowly, I mirror the movements we’ve been through together. It is not perfect, but it is a vast improvement on my first attempt. The lines hold the same weight, and the curves are more elegant. I glance up at him and am rewarded with a smile.

“Wonderful,” he praises.

Using his finger, he taps below each letter from left to right.

“‘D’, ‘O’, ‘V’, ‘E’,” he reads. “Dove.”

I follow his finger, tracing each rounded edge and line while committing them to memory.

“‘D’, ‘O’, ‘V’, ‘E’. Dove,” I repeat.

“Perfect. My perfect Dove,” he whispers before clearing his throat. “Next, we'll do the alphabet.”

I nod, eager for more.

My perfect Dove. Something settles in my chest, a warm radiant light that tingles from my fingers to my toes. It feels familiar, though I’ve never experienced anything like it.

The sensation is quickly forgotten as Frosty settles in beside me, and I give myself over to the task at hand.

My head pounds as I brush out my hair for the evening.

I’m not used to focusing on one thing for so long. The King had been kind and gentle during his teaching. Nevertheless, he was a dutiful instructor. He made me trace over and recite the alphabet countless times. My hand began to cramp near the end of our lesson. We’d had to have been at it for a few hours while enjoying each other’s company.

Then, in an instant, things changed.

After a powerful shudder turned his skin dim and cold, those feral eyes had returned. Gone was the warm male who gave me whispered praise and gentle touches. He was replaced by that harsh version of himself that dismissed me with a snarl, saying dinner would be delivered, and I was forbidden from leaving my room.

The nature of his curse is precarious indeed.

The beast was a stark reminder not to get swept up in his kindness. I’m here for a reason, and without indicating how long I have to uncover the nature of this curse, breaking it before we all turn into icicles is my most pressing concern. I cannot waste hours inside the library, stealing glances at the handsome Frost King.

Did he have to be so good-looking? If we’re being honest, I found him alluring from the moment I saw him. Even if he did terrify me, his power calls to me, unlocking some primal part of myself. I’m growing addicted to his smiles and longing looks. Something I should not do as I plan to leave this place once I break the curse.

My heart aches at the thought, but it’s the truth. No matter that when we are alone together, he looks at me like I am more glorious than the moon and stars. I cannot succumb to those lingering caresses even as I slip on my heavy wool robe, knowing that I’ll be dreaming about his fingers after my adventure tonight.

What would they feel like on my naked flesh? Does he desire me in that way—beyond just someone who may free him from this dark magic? The heat in his gaze suggests so, but I’ve never been the best at understanding human men—let alone frost elf males.

I sigh and slide into my plush slippers.

The moon has risen, and the room is cast in a gentle blue glow. The window remains the same, while the stone I held the previous night sparkles again. Padding over to it, I gently reach behind and slide it from the wall. A familiar groan rips through my room as I watch the secret door open into the dark passageway.

Whatever I discover tonight will hopefully lead me one step closer to finding answers.

The snowflake at my throat flares to life and pulses in encouragement. Taking one last deep breath, I head into the corridor, the necklace and stone illuminating the dark path. It feels colder this time. I shiver and wrap my robe tighter around my body.

The wind blows through my hair and tickles the exposed skin of my legs. A distant humming sound echos down the hall. With each step, it gets louder until it sounds right by my ear. I wave my hand, only for it to connect sharply with a snow fairy's soft, plump body.

“Ouch! Watch it!” Glimmer snaps, rubbing her side.

I whirl on her.

“What are you doing down here?”

Ignoring my question, she flutters on her wings until she lands on my shoulder. Letting out a shrill whistle, she rubs her tiny hands together.

“You weren’t kidding about the secret passageway.”

I narrow my gaze. “I thought the castle's secrets would only reveal themselves to me.”

Waving her hand, Glimmer gives a bored yawn.

“Those rules only apply to Frosty.”

Shaking my head, I continue down the corridor as Glimmer lounges on my shoulder.

“If you must know, I was napping in your sock drawer when I heard the door open. I had to come see for myself what this place was all about.”

“It could be dangerous down here.”

Glimmer raises her brows as if to say, Don’t insult me .

“If it’s safe enough for you, then it’s safe enough for me. I may be tiny, but I’m powerful.” She waves her hand, and a glittering spray of frost covers the nearest wall. “See? That’s why you need me. I’ll watch your back.”

“Impressive,” I say, and Glimmer preens under my praise.

We travel further down the corridor, the temperature dropping the deeper we get. Glimmer burrows under my hair before slipping into my robe pocket for warmth. My breath begins to curl in front of me. Thankfully, we reach the end of the hall after a few more minutes.

This one appears to be in pristine condition. The double doors mirror the library ones I saw earlier, if only a bit smaller. Each one has silver snowflakes adorned with blue and white crystals.

“Wow,” Glimmer says, popping her head out of my pocket.

“Do you recognize this door?”

The snow fairy flies forward and touches her hand to one of the crystals. Her wings flutter quickly before she floats back over towards me.

“Yes—but I don’t remember why.”

Tucking her back into my pocket, the necklace flutters at my throat, urging me forward. I reach for the handle, turning it only for cold air to cut through me. Unlike the one last night, this room is not empty.

It is a bedroom—a disgustingly ornate one at that. Silver furniture and bejeweled dressers dot every inch of the room. There are multiple love seats adorned with crystalized pillows arranged before a dormant fireplace. The bed is a thing of wonder—larger than the one in my room and covered in all manner of silks and furs.

Off in the corner sits a trunk peaking out from below a white sheet. I recognize it from the last memory. It was a part of Frosty’s childhood room.

There is a tinkling in the air as a circle of light illuminates the massive bed. Resting inside the beam is a large egg the size of my palm. It is dark blue and adorned with silver jewels. It pulses in the light, radiating a power of its own.

Glimmer gasps and flies from my pocket towards it. She stops short of touching it, urging me forward with a wave. Her wings flap rapidly.

“I know what this is,” she breathes. “ The Crystal Egg . It is what the first snow fairy was born from. It was stolen from my people centuries ago. Why would it be here?”

I shake my head and reach for the item. As soon as my fingers graze it, the familiar sensation of being thrown through time shakes me. My body twists and trembles, and the world around me blurs until I land on my feet back inside this room.

Everything is the same, except for the bright light slipping through the windows. The furniture sparkles obscenely. Somehow, the sight fades as I take in the grouping of bodies moaning and thrusting on the bed.

My jaw falls open at the scene. There are five frost elf females scattered amongst the silk sheets. Their delicately pointed ears and glittering white hair fall over their bare breasts. Beside them are three frost elf males, two with shoulder-length white hair and one with hair shorter than the Frost King’s. They expertly twist and turn, using their mouths and hands to bring each other pleasure.

I don’t know where to look or if I even should. It’s hard even to see what’s going on with the amount of bodies. The sounds of coupling fill the room. The only noise breaking it up is a riotous banging outside the room. The sound never gives the bodies on the bed pause. They carry on until the door sounds like it is about to break off the hinges.

A white fur blanket flies off the bed, exposing everything and everyone, including the male at the center of the bed. He pulls himself away from two more frost elf females that had been hidden from view.

It’s him—the Frost King. He looks younger than the male I’ve come to know. The sight of him with all of these others makes my chest hurt. I rub the spot, feeling ridiculous. However, that doesn’t stop the potent taste of jealousy from coating my tongue.

He has no claim on me nor I on him, but something about this scene makes me feel sick. Perhaps it is the cruel gleam in his eye, the one that reminds me of the beast he claims to be nothing like. Clearly, that was not always the case, as his skin is its normal luminous shade, and his hands are not tipped in claws.

“What?” he snarls towards the door.

It bangs open, and in walks an older elf male. Not the one from the first vision. This male wears some sort of uniform. There is disdain in his gaze as he takes in the scene but says nothing. The Frost King settles the sheet over his lap before snapping his fingers, and the two females at his side peel away and begin engaging with others in the bed. A goblet of wine manifests in his grip, and he downs it in one gulp.

“Sire, you have been neglecting your duties. The other lords believe?—”

“Why would I give a fuck what the other lords think?” Frosty sneers, slurring his words. “I am the king. Kings do as they please.”

“Your father has been gone for two winters. Two winters , you have been our king, and your realm has hardly seen you. You hole up here with your—your—” The other male inhales deeply to regain his composure. “I understand you are still grieving. Your father was a wonderful male, but?—”

“Do not speak about my father,” the Frost King grounds out.

“Your father,” the other male growls, “would not want his one and only son fucking and drinking all hours of the day while his people starve. Not to mention the snow fairies, they demand to know what you are doing to locate their missing egg. They are calling for retribution on whoever took it.”

A cruel gleam dances in the Frost King’s eye. With a sinister twist of his wine-stained lips, he lets out a soft chuckle before shaking his head.

“Retribution? Demands? Who do those little beasts think they are?”

The other male’s skin pales.

“They are your subjects, sire. You are meant to protect them. Whoever stole the egg must be?—”

“Punished?”

With a wave of his hand, the sparkling egg I had seen in the room before manifests in his palm. Its power pulsates even in the memory. The Frost King gives it a causal toss before catching it midair. I grit my teeth at his carelessness.

“You didn’t. Please tell me you weren’t the one who stole it, King?—”

“Of course I did. Those little pests can do without their prized possession.” His lips flatten into a line. “If I am to suffer, so must we all.”

“Sire,” the other male calls. With a wave of the Frost King’s hand, the egg disappears in a flash of blue light.

“You may go, Klause. I’m rather busy at the moment.”

The Frost King tosses his goblet, allowing the fine crystal to shatter on the floor and paint the walls in red wine. He falls atop the shivering mass of bodies, and they lavish him with touches and kisses. Moaning ensues, and I have to look away from the wanton display.

The other male—Klause—pauses at the door.

“You do not know what you’ve done. Your father would be ashamed.”

The door slams shut, and I am thrust back into my body.

The cold, dark room I left before comes into view. Glimmer is there, buzzing before me with wide eyes. Her little hands go to my cheeks and nose, pinching as she examines me. My head is swimming.

“What happened? One minute, you were here, but then your eyes went distant.”

“Did you see the vision?” I ask instead of answering her.

Glimmer shakes her head. “When I touched it, nothing happened. What did you see?”

“A lot.”

Reaching down, I gently lift the egg before setting it in my pocket.

“A good a lot or a bad a lot?”

I inhale through my nose, trying to rid my mind of those images—of the male I saw. How can he treat me with such kindness, yet that is who he is deep down? Is that the male he wishes to show me because I have no desire to meet him? That male deserves to be cursed for what he did.

My heart urges me not to be too rash and to give Frosty the chance to explain himself. What could he possibly say to justify what I just witnessed? A male filled with such cruelty like that should be punished.

“Dove?” Glimmer’s soft voice is laced with worry.

“Sorry,” I say, refocusing. After witnessing that memory, I know with certainty the first thing that needs to be done.

“We have to return this. Do you know where it goes?”

The snow fairy nods her head.

“The White Woods to the north. Inside the heart of the snow fairy fortress.” Glimmer’s color dims. “You cannot go there alone, Dove. The journey is treacherous.”

I let out a humorless laugh.

“Oh, I won’t be going alone. I’ll be with the one who stole the egg in the first place.”

Glimmer’s mouth pops open.

“Who?”

Picking up my glowing stone, I hold my palm up for Glimmer to settle in.

“The Frost King.”