1. Ice to Meet You

A cold haughty face stares up at me from the phone. I just returned home from my classes at the university nearby, and it feels like I’m stepping right into a trap.

Everything seemed so normal a moment ago.

I entered the kitchen to make a pot of tea before going to my room to study. The house, as always, is freezing cold so that ice and ice magic can thrive here. Then my mother strolled in, thrust her phone into my hands, and started singing the praises of her society friend’s son who just returned from boarding school.

“The Brass’s are such good friends and you and Percy used to get along so well.” For about five minutes, when we were six.

My mother, Gwendolyn Blanchard, is an old money icebrand who isn’t impressed by anyone. Some say her heart is as frozen as her home. So why has this man melted her icy exterior? I have a pretty good idea.

“He’s handsome, isn’t he?” Mother comments, and that confirms my suspicions.

This is a trap. I’m being set up.

My family apparently thinks my romantic prospects are so dire, that I’m so incapable of landing a man on my own, that they’re setting me up on dates with eligible men. I just turned 22! Is this really happening?

The man on the screen is around my age and attractive enough. He has classical features, keen eyes, and neat light brown hair. There’s also no denying the haughty smugness in his eyes and the superiority that makes his lips quirk up in a smirk. His eyes are a weak blue color but that frosty stare chills me even through the screen.

Or maybe the chill comes from my environment. Spring edges towards summer outside, but winter always reigns supreme at the Blanchard estate.

“—Percy all but branded already, he only needs a bit of luck in his personal life to ground him.” Percy Brass. A name just as pretentious as his picture. “Every major element desired him and yet he always knew his destiny lay in the ice.”

The teapot on the kitchen stove whistles, signaling my tea is ready. No match for the kettle, Mother thankfully stops praising the virtues of this eligible icy bachelor and goes into the other room.

Marty Russo arrives through the kitchen door and plucks the teapot off the stove before I’ve recovered from my shock.

Marty and I met at Primrose University where we both attend magical classes. I consider him a friend, though he now works as my mother’s personal assistant. He asked me to put in a good word with my family when he needed a part-time job. I made him promise he wouldn’t hate me if it worked and he got the job. My parents aren’t easy people to please.

”Is this really happening?” I whisper to him. I hand him the phone and from the picture, my horrified expression, and panicked hand gestures, he figures out what he walked in on.

“Relax, Jack. They just want you to meet the guy. You don’t have to marry him.”

“That’s a relief.”

He smirks. “But they’d really, really like it if you do wed. A December wedding, wouldn’t that be lovely?”

“Not funny.” I glare at my friend. “You aren’t helping.”

Marty grins, then realizes the latest example of parental overstepping distracted him as he shivers in the cold. He starts shrugging on his parka. A few heads shorter than me, he’s wearing a gray sweater and dark slacks, his brown hair gelled into a professional style for work. The parka ruins the whole professional picture but is necessary for him. Even in the kitchen with the stove on, ice creeps along the walls and a chill lingers in the air.

“You two are a perfect match.” Marty holds up the phone and the man’s picture, waggling his eyebrows. “You’re both from the same upper crust circles and old magical families. You’re both bound for the ice. Are you telling me selecting a life partner is about more than that?”

For my parents, no.

Marty moves the picture closer to me and I dodge the phone. Nothing changes when I see the face there again. No love connection forms. He’s not bad looking but enormously self-important. If his ego is clear in a picture, I can’t imagine how much worse he’ll be in person.

I put the phone on the counter and pushed it away. “He’s a little… cold.”

Marty snorts. “You better get used to that.”

“I’ll get your tea,” he says next. Marty doesn’t work for me in any capacity, so his motives here are selfish. “And I’ll have a cup too.” He rubs his hands together to warm them up.

Marty grew up with a firebrand mother, so he’s more sensitive to the cold. Parkas like his aren’t necessary for me.

I can distantly feel the cold and the chill in the air, but it doesn’t bother me. The ice magic running through my parent’s veins means I inherited a high tolerance for the cold. Icy features have even seeped into my appearance. My hair is an unnatural shade of white, just like my parents. Ice is all I’ve ever known. My parents expect me to continue in the Blanchard family’s long history of being powerful, respected, wealthy icebrands.

If I follow in their footsteps and embrace my icy destiny, I’ll become a real wizard. An icebrand with more power and freedom than any novice is ever allowed. The long years of studying will be over. The protections and limits that give me only a small taste of true magical power will fall away, and I’ll have the freedom to explore my element to its fullest.

But there’s always a catch.

“What do you think?” Mother pops back into the room. “You finished early today. That leaves plenty of time for you to meet Percy Brass for lunch, just the two of you.”

“Today isn’t good for me,” I lie. “We can set something up one of these days. I’ll check my schedule.”

“No need for that. He’s swinging by in—” she glances at her watch. “15 minutes.”

“Mom!”

“What? He recently moved back into town. Wouldn’t it be nice for him to catch up and see some old friends?”

”We met one time, several years ago,” I remind. “That doesn’t make us old friends.”

Mother disagrees. “Then you’ll have plenty of catching up to do.” She places a hand on my shoulder to impart advice. “If you aren’t moving forward towards a brand, you’re moving backwards. The time goes by so fast. You can’t let magic slip through your fingers.”

“Hold on,” I say. “All the professors and lessons say it’s wise not to rush, to be sure before committing to an element. The brand can’t be changed later.”

That’s the catch. There are no elemental divorces. An element requires a lifetime commitment. It also transforms you in body and soul and magic. Once fire or ice or lightning is in your heart and soul, there’s no kindly asking it to leave. There are no take backs.

Mother scoffs and accepts the cup of tea from Marty that she assumes is her own. “Don’t quote your professors to me. One shouldn’t rush when finding a suitable element. Once you’ve decided on the element you seek, you need to make progress. Besides, those lessons aren’t designed with Blanchards in mind.”

She winces at the tea when it touches her tongue. The snowflake shaped mark on her shoulder glows faintly as a thin layer of frost travels from her hand to cover the outside of the teacup. She prefers her drinks, and everything else, the colder the better.

Unlike us, Mother wears a sleeveless blouse. Pure white hair flows all the way down her back. The large snowflake mark that looks frozen onto her left shoulder is her brand, the magical mark connecting her to the ice element for the rest of her life. She received it when she accepted ice’s essence and transformed into an icebrand.

Elements usually attract like-minded people, and the qualities they share with an element are only heightened after branding. My parents are the perfect example of that. Severe, impenetrable, cold, and unchanging. After all, ice at its strongest is thick and solid. Not easily moldable or adaptable. If ice cracks or melts, then it’s liable to break.

Blanchards don’t break. Not ever, not for anyone. Not even for their own son.

“You already know where you’re headed,” Mother reminds me. “You just have to get there.”

Satisfied with having the last word, she waltzes out of the kitchen.

My story is all written out. Jack Blanchard will become an icebrand. Everything important has already been decided. It’s up to me to get on with the program. Why is that thought so depressing? I’ve wanted magic since even before I could talk in full sentences.

“It’s a nice day out,” Marty says. “I can keep her busy for a few minutes if you need a break.”

“You’re the best.” I give him my untouched cup of tea.

He swigs the drink down quick for warmth and puts on a determined game face. “Hey, Mrs. Blanchard, the pipes are freezing up again.”

“Why do we even bother?” she mutters from deeper inside the house. “We should tear the whole place down and start over entirely, using only ice.”

Almost the entire interior of the house is encrusted in ice, but the exterior fits in with other estates on the street. My favorite spot certainly is free of frost. I know exactly what I need right now.

* * *

I slip out the kitchen door and head towards the back of our property. My escape is quick but not too quick. My feet skid across the path as frost covers the surface and makes it slippery.

“Not today ice, not today.”

The magical freeze enforced by my parents clings to the edges of the house and takes a bit of distance before the enchantments stop and the normal environment is back in control of the surroundings.

Inside their icy domain, it’s hard to feel anything but cold. Yet like always, the real world is still out here. The bright sunny day drives away the chill from inside. A clear blue sky overhead and birds chirping show that winter remains far away.

“Almost there,” I whisper. I carefully navigate as I reach the lawn and green grass free of ice.

Am I almost there? Sometimes the magic seems so close and others… lots of people do brand in their 20s…but it takes others as long as three to four decades. There’s no exact timetable. We study until we’re done. We study until we brand.

Studying and training for decades doesn’t even secure you a brand. If you’re successful, you receive a test. If you pass, then you receive the brand.

Obviously, these tests amount to more than filling in the correct bubbles with a number two pencil.

Only an element truly knows when and why it issues a test and deems someone worthy. That hasn’t stopped my parents from taking action and deciding that a strong partner is what I’m missing. Mixing romance and magic can go wrong in about a million ways, but it can also lead to the strongest partnerships.

Should I be able to stand up to my parents? Perhaps. It’s much more challenging when they are absolute in what they expect while I’m not sure.

I hardly even have time for a lover. I don’t even know my preferred element—well…

I like ice. The magic comes naturally. Ice is in my veins, but there’s another type of magic I also enjoy.

“Hello there,” I tell my garden as I arrive at the back corner of the estate.

Earth magic is nice. Something about dirt under my fingers and the smell of blooming flowers in the air has always comforted me. My garden is modest and mostly full of plants and herbs used in spellcasting. I still feel so much pride at seeing rows of neat green leaves and colorful petals. My hands brush along the petals of the marigold and the jasmine as I move towards the altar in the middle of my little garden.

I close my eyes and kneel at the altar. My knees press directly into the earth and the smooth stone surface of the altar gives me a place to set my tokens down and work. When my parents are breathing down my neck or an exercise at school proves impossible, I enjoy visiting my garden and doing some earth magic. I need this right now, a moment to relax and catch my breath.

I grab my preserved flower token. The token is blessed by an earthbrand on behalf of the earth element, which gives me the protection needed to safely cast novice spells before being branded.

Closing my eyes, I clutch the petal token in my hands and let the magic fill me. What should I do? I wonder. Just give me a sign. Summoning the earth’s power, a breeze ruffles my hair and the scent of the garden around me becomes stronger. I feel earth magic gather around me, warm and vibrant as—

Before I do anything, hairs raise on the back of my neck. Something changes. A slight rustle catches my attention. A thought strikes me with certainty.

I’m not alone.

I open my eyes and see a giant wolf looming above me.