6. Dove

6

DOVE

T he first thing I notice when my eyes open is the mountains.

And how they are on the wrong side of the horizon.

How peculiar. Why would —a blazing cold burns my skin. Icy wind blows against me. The only protection from it is the warmth resting along my back. Letting out a soft moan, I cuddle in deeper, wanting as much of my skin to touch the glorious heat as possible.

Then, in a flash, my memories return. The Offering , the cold—the King’s thrall on me must have lessened because terror floods my veins. The reality of the situation slams into me with enough force to loosen my muscles.

How long have I been asleep for? Enough time has passed for us to travel over the mountains surrounding my village and end up on the other side. Pulling myself away from his heat is a struggle, but I manage.

The Frost King gives a startled grunt as I push back. His arms cage me to his front. He holds the reins in his large hands while the cold leather of the saddle bites into my legs. I’m tucked tightly between his spread thighs. I need to get off of this and away from him—wherever he’s taking me, I’m sure I don’t want to go.

Opening my mouth to scream, only a scratchy whisper meets my ears. I shove against his chest, disentangling my legs until they fall on either side of the horse. My toes instantly go numb, but I ignore the pain and focus on my freedom. I have to attempt an escape even if?—

“Enough.” His voice is powerful—the command shakes snow from the branches around us. “Cease your struggling human, or my magic will put you to sleep once more.”

He leads us through a break in the treeline, and we emerge atop a snowy hill. The horse carries us down the mound as I push against him. Thrashing my body, the horse gives an unpleasant whiny but never misses a step. The Frost King keeps one hand on the reins as he moves to grab me. With his arm raised, there’s just enough space for me to slip through.

My body falls from the horse and lands with a thud atop a snow pile. The cold shocks me, stealing my breath and instantly soaking me to the bone. My body refuses to move. I was a fool for even trying to escape—where would I go in these clothes? My village could be hundreds of miles away by now.

Death has come to claim me, whether it is at the hands of the snow or the demon with quiet fury raging in his eyes. My surrender comes easy—especially as I watch his massive body jump down from his horse and stomp over to me. The Frost King moves through the snow with unnatural grace. His cloak drags behind him and glimmers in the sun.

The King’s strong hands pluck me from the ground and settle my freezing body against him once more. In one fluid motion, we are back on the horse and continuing our journey as if nothing happened. His arm bands across my waist and I feel his lips at my ear.

“Be still,” he snarls, causing goosebumps to erupt along my flesh. “Or I will bind you for the remainder of our journey. You wouldn’t enjoy that.”

One last burst of anger ignites as I glare at him.

“Let me go.” My voice has returned, even if it’s a bit scratchy from disuse.

“No.”

The simple word turns my burst of anger into a roaring fire. Baring my teeth, I push at his chest even with his arm trapping me. He pulls me flush against him and halts my ability to move. I feel every ridge and contour of his muscular body.

“You were offered to me as a tribute. I claimed you. Your life is mine now to do as I see fit. Remember that.”

Air puffs from between my lips.

“Will you be sparing my village from our centuries of torment? Will the blizzard finally let up now that you have taken me?”

The Frost King’s eyes narrow before he lets out a humorless laugh.

“Perhaps,” he sighs. “If you prove to be a worthy tribute.”

Before I can respond, he snaps the reins, and the horse takes off at a swift gallop. The landscape around me blurs. We’ve left the dense foliage of the evergreen forest. Uphead, the snowy hills give way to a town. The buildings are made of polished white stone and glittering crystals. Everything from homes to taverns and shops dot the hillside. While they are beautiful, something feels off about them.

Namely, there are no people—or whatever manner of creature the Frost King is—milling about. The town is still—lifeless. For a second, I catch something shimmering in the sun, but we are moving too fast for me to make it out properly.

The horse continues at its fast pace, each powerful movement jostling me closer to the Frost King. With my cloak and shift as my only covering, I feel naked in his arms. Something inside my chest flickers, a fleeting feeling of contentment that I push away.

I must remain vigilant. If he has not lifted the curse from my village, then my being taken was for nothing. I will not sacrifice myself without at least trying to better the lives of my family.

The horse slows its pace as we reach a bridge. Made out of the same smooth, white stone the buildings in the town were, it glitters before us. Curving over the fast-moving river below blue water foams and splashes against the rocky sides of the stream. Dense fog lingers on the other side. The sound of clicking hooves echoes as we saunter across it.

The weather here is more mild than in my village. The snow coming down is only a light dusting. With a wave of the King’s hand, the fog before us slowly recedes. Once it is cleared the most glorious sight reveals itself.

A palace—the likes of which Mama used to recount to Sophia and me as bedtime stories—made entirely of glass sparkles ahead. The tallest tower reaches into the sky, partially obscured by dense clouds. The windows are decorated with crystal snowflakes and silver. Piles of fresh, white snow decorate the ornately designed ledges. As we journey closer, the sight of the Frost King’s castle becomes more imposing.

The horse comes to a stop just before a flight of marble steps. A groan sounds as the two massive glass doors yawn open at our arrival. Behind me, the Frost King slides from the saddle before hooking his hands around my waist and dropping me onto the icy step.

Cold burns my bare feet, and I let out a hiss.

Without his warmth, my wet clothes and hair add to my discomfort. As the wind picks up, I feel my skin prickle. My teeth chatter painfully as shivers wrack me. I tuck my freezing hands under my cloak, which is of little help.

The Frost King stares at me momentarily, surveying me from head to toe. I try to meet his gaze, but another convulsion rocks me, causing my knees to buckle. With a deep snarl, the Frost King lunges for me. His strong arms go around my back and under my knees. Cradling me to his chest, I don’t hesitate to retreat into his warmth.

His steps are clipped as we make our way through the castle. My head fits snugly under his chin, and I fight to keep my eyes open long enough to take in my surroundings. The palace is a labrythin—the further we travel into it, the more confusing it becomes. I lose track of how many steps and turns we take. Countless sets of doors open as we move through dozens of empty rooms. Any chance of remembering the path out is lost after we make what must be our tenth right turn.

Another hallway appears. The dark blue carpet is decorated with what I can only assume is his royal crest—a large silver snowflake, which matches the ones carved on many of the doors. Despite the heat he’s putting off, my shivering persists. I try to get closer, but it’s not working. My wet clothes feel like they are freezing to my skin, and my trembling intensifies.

The Frost King murmurs something under his breath before making a sharp right—passing us through a stone wall as if it weren’t there. The taste of metal lingers on my tongue. He passes us through two more walls before we reach a dark room. The only light comes from a large window against the far wall.

Below it sits a large tub made of dark tiles. Steam curls over the lip. I haven’t seen a tub in ages—we sold ours a few years ago for some extra coin. Neither have I ever seen water that warm. Back home, we only heated ours enough to take the chill off. Bathing was a necessity, never a luxury, as I had heard others treat it.

Now, inside this bathroom, I see how someone may wish to spend all day in the bath.

Decadent warmth covers every inch of this room. The steam coats my skin and helps relieve my shivering. My hands lift to the tie of my cloak and undo the simple knot. The fabric hits the floor with a wet thud. Reaching for the hem of my shift, I can think of nothing but getting this freezing garment off of me.

However, as I try to lift it over my hand, my arms are stiff from the cold. My shivering returns with a vengeance, and soon, my fingers feel too cold even to move. Trembling, I’ve forgotten I’m not alone until I hear the sound of tearing fabric.

Steamy air greets my exposed back as my shift flutters to the ground to join my soaked cloak. I don’t even care that I’m naked. The need to preserve my modesty is not as crucial as the need to feel my fingers and toes again.

With great effort, I move towards the tub, using the final ounces of my strength to heave myself over the side and into the warm water.

I am submerged in glorious heat. Never in my life has anything felt this good. My cold body burns as it thaws in the water. Finally—and only when my lungs scream at me to do so—I surface for air. Pushing my heavy, damp hair out of my eyes, I turn towards the door.

The Frost King is utterly motionless. Unease prickles the back of my neck, even as the flicker in my chest kindles again. Suddenly, I am very aware that I am naked and alone with a creature of unimaginable power. He can walk through walls. He can make me sleep for hours—days even. If he wanted to, he could?—

He won’t hurt you, a small voice whispers to me. He can’t.

I must pray to the Mother of the Snow that that is true. I wait for him to advance, but he remains still. His fists curl into tight balls at his side. He does not try to glimpse my body, even as I shift in the water and pull my knees to my chest. The Frost King’s burning gaze never strays from my face.

His gaze lingers with heat and something else—is an emotion far too intense for me to name. In an instant, it evaporates, and cool indifference settles over his features.

“Warm yourself,” he says simply. “There will be fresh clothes for you in the attached room. That is where you will stay while you are here. I suggest you get familiar with it.”

I open my mouth, but he waves a dismissive hand.

“When the bell chimes six times, I expect you to join me for dinner in the main dining hall.”

Dinner? A room all to myself? Maybe the stories of the tribute being treated to a life of luxuries weren’t too far off. I won’t dare allow these basic kindnesses to sway me. I am still his prisoner, and until I find out how I can get him to break the curse on my village, I must always remain vigilant.

Before I can ask where the dining hall is, he disappears in a swirl of white fur leaving behind only a small pile of fresh snow.