Frost: Chapter 18

By my sixth day of sparring with the king, my muscles ached and bruises covered both our bodies. As soon as I’d slammed my heel into his knee, Torin had stopped holding back.

Alone, I trudged into the shadowy cemetery, where the moonlight silvered the snow. I was learning to ignore the cold and fight without the cloak so I could move more easily. As long as we were sparring, the exertion kept me warm enough.

I found Torin standing by himself in the cemetery clearing, the wind whipping at his cloak. As always, he’d brought two rapiers with him. Once I stepped into the snowy ring, he tossed one through the air at me. Caught off guard, I only just managed to grab it by the hilt.

“Give me a minute, Torin.” Annoyed, I yanked at the button on my cloak. I knew he’d pull some kind of sneak attack, so I ripped it off quickly and tossed it into the snow behind me.

Torin stiffened, his gaze sliding down my body as he took in the form-fitting black clothes I wore underneath.

Was he checking me out? How many of us contestants had he checked out over the past week? The king, surely, was a bit of a player—and that was why he could never get married for real. As long as it was merely a business arrangement, he could cheat all he wanted, guilt free.

His gaze met my eyes again, and I was advancing, lunging across the snowy earth.

As our blades clashed, he kept his gaze locked on me, his eyes shining with something like excitement. I was starting to get the sense that he enjoyed this, that it made him feel alive.

Even more strangely, I was starting to feel the same way…

Andrew had made me feel safe. But Torin? He made me feel like I was standing on a precipice, about to fall off. Heart racing and blood pumping, I’d never felt more exhilarated. The problem? It was just a quick thrill, a blazing candle that would burn out quickly. It wouldn’t do to dwell on these thoughts, even for a moment. Clearly, the man wasn’t relationship material.

No way in hell I’d set myself up for more disappointment. I’d hardly recovered from the last heartbreak.

Torin’s breath clouded around his head as he thrust his rapier closer, nearly nicking my waist. His expression was fierce, eyes glinting.

I leapt back and was nearly taken out by a snowy branch.

My mind had wandered, and Torin had backed me up against a tree trunk.

I blocked his attack, and his sword pressed against mine, pinning me against the tree.

The corner of his lip curled. “It seems I have you exactly where I want you, my favorite changeling.”

“Favorite?” I returned his smile. “Have you forgotten we hate each other? Because I haven’t.”

“But Ava.” His face was close to mine now, the moonlight and shadows sculpting his cheekbones. “Your utter contempt for me is what makes it all the more exciting when I have you under my control.” His knee slid between my thighs, his face close to mine now. The edges of our blades pressed closer to me.

“It makes it more exciting,” he whispered. “Thinking of your complete disdain for me.”

A fierce, competitive flame lit inside me. Marshaling all the strength I could muster, I shoved him away from me. But I was already growing tired, and I stumbled a little.

Torin slashed, and I parried, but the force of his strike snapped my blade. I stared at the broken sword for only a fraction of a second before dodging out of his way.

By now, I knew him well enough to understand he had complete control of his sword, and that he’d never attack if he thought he’d actually hurt me. But the thing was, I didn’t want to lose.

I shifted to the right and gripped him hard by the wrist. A sharp kick to his inner thigh had him doubling over, and I twisted his arm back until he dropped the rapier in the snow. He quickly ripped himself out of my grip and spun, raising his fists like we were about to start boxing.

I arched an eyebrow. “Are we about to fist fight?”

“Why not? There are no rules here.”

“So, in Faerie, it’s okay to punch a king?”

“No, that’s a death penalty offense. But I won’t tell if you won’t. Here, in this clearing, there are no rules.” A sardonic smile. “And as your king, I am commanding you to play the way I want you to.”

“Not my king, but okay.” I lifted my fists, not entirely sure what I was doing. Truth be told, I was strangely enticed by the idea of hand-to-hand combat with a high king of the Seelie.

Just the thing to help a person forget a bad breakup.

And perhaps I had a bit of aggression to work out.

I darted forward, striking first. He blocked, again and again, and my knuckles felt like they were breaking against his forearm.

With a devilish smile, the king swung at me, but I lifted my arm, and the blow landed hard near my elbow. I winced as pain danced up to my shoulder.

He heard my catch of breath and went still. His smile faded, hands lowering slightly. “Are you all right?”

I slammed my fist into his cheek, knocking him back. But when his face snapped up to mine, it was with that exhilarated look once more. “Gloves are truly off, then.”

“Oh, yes. As a changeling, I’m too wild for this kingdom, of course. No sense of propriety whatsoever.”

The wind toyed with his cloak, and his eyes blazed with icy light in the darkness. A smile ghosted over his lips.

I moved forward once more to hit him, but he caught my wrist in an iron grip and contorted my arm. Now it was his turn to twist my arm behind my back. The position and sharp movement hurt like a bitch.

“You’re surprisingly skilled,” he murmured next to my ear. “For a changeling.”

I gritted my teeth. “Turns out I’ve had some anger issues since the night I met you.” I slammed the back of my head into his face, and he released me. “And pretty men are my target.”

Exhausted and bruised, I whirled to face him.

“There you go again.” He arched an eyebrow. “Calling me pretty.”

At that, the air went even colder, the ice cutting down to my bones. And from the way the air shimmered, I had no doubt it was the king’s doing. But how could I complain about magic when I’d declared the gloves were off?

I forced myself to move, trying to heat up again, but an all-consuming darkness slammed around me.

Stunned and disoriented, I stumbled back, my heart beating against my ribs as panic slid through my chest. Fuck. This was a vulnerability I’d never felt before.

But in a moment, my senses returned. As a fae, I could always smell much better than humans—but this. I detected every scent for a mile around me: the bark of the oaks, the pine needles and owl nests, the frozen moss, even the scent of the snow. And the sounds: my chattering teeth, the wind rustling through the trees and sweeping across the gravestones—and the sound of Torin’s pounding heart beating almost in time to mine.

And there was his scent, richer and earthier than the forest around me, with the faintest notes of a clear, rocky mountain stream.

I didn’t feel like a mere changeling right now. I felt like a hunter. And I knew exactly where Torin was, just a few feet away, his heart a hammer against his ribs, just like mine.

I blocked out the piercing cold and lunged forward, striking for his face again. The moment my hand connected with his jaw, the magic slid away, and I could see the feral look in Torin’s eyes once more.

He gripped my arm, wrenching it behind my back again, and pressed me against the trunk of a tree, his enormous body close to mine. The bark was rough against my face, but exhilaration lit up my nerves. Sparring with Torin was truly addictive.

“What do you have to be angry about?” I tried to catch my breath. “You have everything anyone could want. Or you will soon, anyway.”

“And you?” he whispered in my ear. “How much responsibility weighs on the delicate shoulders of a marginally employed bartender?”

I brought my heel down hard into his foot, and his grip loosened. I thrust my hips into him, throwing him off.

I whirled and took a swing at him, but he caught my fist, then snatched my other wrist, pinning both arms above my head against the tree trunk.

Right where he wanted me—again. My core tightened with his face close to mine, his breath hot on my throat. With my wrists pressed against the trunk and his muscled body firm against mine, I felt desire coil tight within me. I breathed in his earthy scent, my blood heating. Torin’s head nestled into the crook of my neck, and I heard him inhale deeply, drinking in my scent. He stiffened, pressing harder against me, his knee between my thighs.

And here was the thing I knew—among humans, sniffing each other like this was very fucking weird. But it was a fae instinct, one I hadn’t known I had. And while it was natural, deep down, it was also shockingly intimate.

“No responsibilities?” My breath was coming fast. “You don’t know the first thing about me,” I gasped, the cold air stinging my lungs.

He raised his face again, and our clouds of breath twined together in the frozen night air. “Nor you me. That is why you are perfect, my changeling. And that is why I crave your company.” His eyes closed, and his lips brushed against mine.

Even though the touch was light, it sent molten heat sliding through my core. The effect was instant, like I was melting over the ice.

With a short gasp of breath, he pulled away, dropping his grip on me.

“Sorry,” he whispered. “I should not have done that.”

I stared at him, wondering what the fuck had just happened.

It was hard to breathe. “What are we even doing here? You choose the winner. Why do I need to practice so much?”

He turned, moving into the shadows, then paused to look back at me. “Do you want to see something? A view of my kingdom? I have whiskey.”

“And will you tell me all your secrets, and why I’m here?” I followed him down a winding path we’d never taken before, slightly overgrown with brambles. Moonlight pierced the branches above us, and silver light danced over the snow beneath our feet.

He flashed me a wry smile. “Maybe. I will tell you this, Ava. I need to make sure you survive this tournament. The final trial can be bloody, and it’s my job to ensure you make it through alive. I don’t need any more deaths on my hands. I don’t want the ghost of Ava Jones to haunt me.” He pulled out a little silver flask and took a sip. “I have enough vengeful spirits on my case as it is.”

I huffed a laugh, and the cold air stung my lungs. “How many deaths, exactly, do you have on your hands?”

His jaw clenched. “If I don’t choose a queen, the numbers will be in the hundreds of thousands. And as for the past…” He met my gaze, his eyes blazing in the dim light. “A king is expected to participate in duels in times of peace, and I have. A king is supposed to show that he has the power to defeat the demons and monsters, but it’s really to prove to the clan kings that none of them should think of rising against their high king. So I have killed noble fae in duels, a bloodletting to keep the peace. Here in Faerie, the high king is like a god. But I must prove it to them over and over.”

I swallowed hard. “And a queen should be able to do the same?”

He glanced at me sideways. “And that’s why we keep practicing, yes.”

“So, the deaths that haunt you, they’re from these duels?”

His eyes glittered in the darkness. “There’s one death that weighs most heavily on my mind, and that, my changeling, is a secret that will die with me.”

Of course, that was the very secret I to know.

He handed me his flask, and I took a long sip. The peaty taste rolled over my tongue.

The dark forest started to thin as we moved up a steep slope, and the wind whipped through the trees. At the top of the hill, the craggy land sheered off and sloped down. The view from here was breathtaking—a mountainous region surrounding a valley with a frozen lake, silvered under the moonlight. Snow dusted black slopes around the valley, and towering castles jutted from their peaks, windows beaming with warm light in the distance.

I stared at the beauty of Faerie. “Holy shit.”

Torin climbed onto a large rock, dusting off the snow to make a spot for me. Oak boughs arched over us.

I took another sip of the whiskey and handed it back to him. “You’re in charge of all this?”

He pointed to the dark mountains across the valley, where a black castle seemed to rise from the jagged slopes. “The Redcap petty kingdom is found there. So far, six young redcap princes have challenged me in duels.”

“And six died?”

“Four died. Two survived, but they can no longer fight. And consequently, their father, the Redcap king, executed them.”

“He killed his own sons?”

“I don’t go to the Redcap kingdom unless it’s absolutely necessary. The king is horrible.” He pointed to a pale stone castle on the slopes to our left. “The Dearg Due petty kingdom. Once, they dragged humans into their realm to drain them of blood. Now, they make do with hunting deer and elk.” He pointed at the crystalline lake. “The Kelpie clans live around the lake in marshy fields. They could once shapeshift into horses, although they don’t anymore. We can’t see the other clan kingdoms from here.”

“It’s a beautiful place.”

“But fractious. The clans were once at war with each other, and they have little in common to this day. It’s my job to keep them united. Having a queen, restoring life to Faerie, is absolutely necessary.” He passed me the flask once more.

“What if you want to marry for real one day?”

“I won’t.”

My teeth started to chatter, and Torin leaned in to me. He radiated warmth through his clothes, and I relished it more than I’d like to admit.

“You know, Ava,” he said softly, “I thought you were a mess when I first met you. Obviously. But it wasn’t fair to judge you when you lived in a world where you never belonged.”

“I’m not sure I belong here, either.” I sighed.

“We belong with family. And we don’t have that, do we?”

My mind crackled with fragments of memories of my mom and the warmth I’d felt when I was little. I’d always wanted to get as close to her as possible.

A bolt of loneliness shot through me, and the cold bled down to my bones.

I stood, rubbing my arms for warmth as I searched the snow for my cloak. “I’m going to head back. Are you coming?”

“No, thanks. I’ll stay here a while longer.”

I pulled on my cloak, casting one last look at him before I trudged through the snow. He sat, shoulders slumped, in the dark shadows beneath an oak. Snowflakes spiraled down around us.

The king—the most powerful fae in existence—looked completely and utterly alone.