Frost (17 page)

Desperate to break the tension, I blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "So, is that all of us, then? All the recruits, I mean?"

One of the guys, whose almost-orange skin matched Stacey's terrible spray tan, smirked. "No, we're just the ones who turned out well. There are a bunch of other reject recruits. They're still being trained, but chances are they'll end up in the servants’ corridors." His blue eyes trailed over me and settled on Charlotte.

I curled my hands into fists, my jaw clenching. I'd already fought the queen on this one. If I had to, I'd argue with every damn jotun who brought it up.

But Malibu Ken didn't say anything, just shrugged and took a sip from his wine glass, giving the scar-faced girl an amused look.

It made me want to punch him.

"Well, if you won't introduce yourselves, I will." Amy wagged her finger at them. "Too much training is making you forget your manners. You think the queen would stand around and stare like an idiot?"

Stacey rolled her eyes behind Amy's back and made a face at Alicia, who pressed her fingers over her mouth.

"Don't your lips ever get tired from all that butt kissing, Amy?" The scar-faced girl sneered. Amy instantly turned bright red, waving her off, her laughter high and artificial.               "Gods, you're so charming, Karina." She jerked my arm. "That's Karina. She's a bit of a bitch sometimes. Just ignore her."

Someone finally rivaled Amy for the "bit of a bitch" award. Interesting. And apparently, Karina was bold enough to insult Amy straight to her face, which was more than I could say for any of the other girls. I just nodded at Karina, trying hard not to smirk.

Karina's mouth twitched and she shrugged.

"I'm Elliot," fake-tan guy offered. He looked like he was about to say more, but Amy started tugging on my arm, nearly wrenching it out of its socket.

She leaned close to my ear. "Leif and his friends just walked in. Oh Gods. Isn't he amazing?"

"Girls!" The baritone voice made me whip around.

A tall, broad-shouldered man was walking toward us. Behind him, what was undeniably an entourage followed. It would have been ridiculous if it hadn’t been so intimidating.

All tall and golden, they stood head and shoulders above the rest of us, in perfect physical condition, clad in leather and silk hunting gear. I counted while they stalked towards us. Six in total. Honestly, I couldn't see what Amy was so happy about. They looked at us with thinly veiled scorn, as if we amused and disgusted them all at once.

Leif pulled his hood back as he walked, shaking droplets of ice from light-blond hair. "Shouldn't you be practicing your lessons from yesterday?"

Alicia giggled and nudged Margaret.

Amy gave him a wide smile and murmured, "Told you he was hot."

He was. There was no denying it. In a way, his facial structure was similar to Erik’s, the strong jaw line and intense, blue eyes. But where Erik’s smile was kind, Leif’s was just…sharp. Like he could cut you with it if you weren’t careful.

In fact, as I watched him stride toward us, it occurred to me that everything about him was fierce. Aggressive, even. I braced myself as he moved closer, half expecting to be knocked over by his physical presence. Leif halted in front of me.

I had to tip my head back to look at his face. When our eyes met, his grew wide and his whole expression changed. The smooth arrogance melted away, and his mouth dragged down in a snarl.

"You must be the new recruit everyone is talking about." His voice had a hard edge to it, almost accusatory.

"I guess so." I crossed my arms over my chest. "I'm Megan."

He shifted his gaze toward the other girls. "You shouldn't be fooling around. You should be practicing your sword play like I taught you."

"We've been practicing all day," Stacey complained. When he shot her a dark look she faltered and fell silent.

Leif turned back to me, and I shifted, resisting the urge to back up a step. "I guess
you
won't be sparring,” he said. “Or fighting at all, ever."

The condescension in his tone made me stiffen.

His entourage made noises of soft amusement like they were too good for straight-up laughter. Six sets of narrowed, blue eyes watched with open hostility. It was a little like being stared down by a pack of wolves.

I scowled. "I'm really not sure what you're talking about. I just got here—"

Leif took a step forward and seized my arm, his fingers biting into my flesh, making me wince. "Let's get one thing straight, half-breed. You are not now, nor will you
ever
be, my sister. We share no blood. We share
nothing.
Just because you're the product of some twisted, guilt-driven experiment my mother thought up doesn't mean you have claim to
anything
here."

My mouth worked, but words refused to come out. I just stood there, my eyes watering as I tried to yank my arm back like an idiot.

Finally, Leif let go, and I stumbled, bumping into Charlotte.The room spun and I blinked furiously, trying to force the tears back. There was a very real danger I would end up crying in front of Leif and his wolf pack. That would be the end of me. They would sense my weakness and tear me apart.

"What is your
problem
?" Charlotte asked, furious. "She just got here and you're being a total jerk."

Leif looked down at her, a smirk tugging the corner of his perfect mouth. "You're joking, right? You didn't even make half-breed status. You'll end up in the servant corridor before long. Filthy blood—that's what you have. You're a mutt." He turned back to me. "Watch your back, half-breed."

Open-mouthed, I watched him walk around us, his steps smooth and sure, his face breaking into an easy grin as he greeted the next group—the pure-blooded jotun.

Leif took a glass of wine from one of the trays and held it up to the woman he'd approached, saying something that made her laugh. He'd gone from nasty to utterly charming in the space of ten seconds.

The entourage passed us one at a time, some of them directing barbed smiles at us. One of them—a woman with streaks of copper red in her blond hair—paused long enough to wink at me and say in a loud whisper, "Nice to meet you, half-breed."

Then they moved on, standing around and laughing with the group next to us, their movements fluid and graceful, their smiles bright and sparkling. Definitely wolves.

"What the hell was
that
?" Charlotte's voice wobbled.

When I turned and saw tears collecting in her eyes, heat flushed through my body, anger so hot that I felt myself quiver with it. I pictured myself storming after Leif and snatching a fistful of his silky blond hair out. See if he kept smiling after that.

"Sorry about that." Margaret looked sympathetic, reaching out to rub my arm. "He can be pretty harsh when he's teaching us too. We should have warned you."

"I didn't know he would act like
that
." Becca folded her arms, frowning at the crowd though none of them were looking at us anymore. "He's sort of a jerk sometimes, but he actually looked mad there."

"But he's so hot." Amy waved one hand in the air as if he hadn't just basically threatened me—or us, if that comment was directed at all half-breeds. Amy seemed to be forgetting she was a "filthy half-breed" as well.

Besides, I didn't care if Prince Leif was the next Brad Pitt. He'd made Charlotte cry.

Leif and I were going to have a serious problem.

For the rest of the week, Charlotte and I drifted around the palace. Luckily, it seemed Prince Leif spent most of his time in the training room or at his mother's side in the throne room, so we didn't run into him often.

Erik showed us the entire palace, which took nearly half a day. He was ridiculously cheerful during the entire tour, since the queen had apparently demoted my old English teacher—demoted, I suspected, was a nice way to say he was in the dungeons—and Erik was now the new captain.

The queen also ordered the servants to make us new clothing that fit properly.

I spent hours in the seamstress's room, trying to stand still in front of the wall of mirrors while I was measured and pricked by pins. Charlotte wandered around the shop, marveling over different types of fabric, running her hands over the silks and satins.

"Look." She held up a bolt of ice-blue silk. "Wouldn't this make an amazing evening gown?"

I nodded then hissed through my teeth when I felt another poke in my ribs. The seamstress shook her head and made a
tut-tut
noise.

"Oh," Charlotte sighed. "This dark-blue one is so pretty."

I bit my lip, hoping Charlotte wasn't mad. The seamstress was spending way more time on my measurements. And the rolls of fabric the queen had picked for Charlotte and me were different. My outfits were clearly going to be far more lavish.

"Done." The seamstress finally shooed me off the platform. "Your clothing will be delivered to your room when it's done, miss."

"Thank you." I collected the silk wrap I'd been wearing and turned to Charlotte. "Can you tear yourself away, or do you want to hang out here for a bit?"

"No." Charlotte put the fabric she'd been caressing down. "I'm good." She smiled, and her face brightened. "Let's go to the kitchen and get some more of those pastries they gave us last night. Those were
so
good, and I'm starved. It has to be lunchtime."

As we exited the room, her stomach rumbled audibly, as if to prove her point.

I laughed. "Okay, but we shouldn't fill up too much. I'm sure there'll be another huge lunch in the great hall."

We walked down the icy corridors, and I found my mind wandering back to yesterday. The servants brought breakfast to Charlotte and me every morning, but lunch and dinner was held in the great hall. Each time, the queen had acknowledged our presence with a small smile and a nod, but she hadn't said anything further to me. Not since the day we’d met her. Was she giving me a chance to settle in? Maybe, now that I was here, that was it.

Footsteps echoed down the hallway, and a woman rounded the corner. She was a head taller than I was, and her hair was done in elaborate braids coiled at the back of her neck. Another queen copycat, like Amy.

As the woman neared us, she examined me with dark-blue eyes. She walked with a confidence that bordered on hostility, head up, shoulders thrown back. Something about her mannerisms left a sharp, bitter taste on my tongue. The way she moved reminded me of Leif. The staccato clip of her high heels on the ice slowed as she approached us.

"You must be Amora." Her voice was honey sweet, and I instantly pegged her as completely fake.

Charlotte and I stopped, and I frowned.

"Yes," I said cautiously. The woman was vaguely familiar. When she smiled at me with ruby-red lips, I remembered. She’d been one of Leif’s entourage.              

"I'm Edda," she said. "And how do you like the palace so far?"

Even if she hadn't hung out with Leif, there was still something about her I didn't like. Maybe it was the arrogant way she held herself or the way she arched one nearly white eyebrow at me like she was skeptical I’d have anything intelligent to say.

"It's nice," I said.

Edda's laugh was high and tinkling, like the blue fountain outside in the courtyard.

I hated it.

"
Nice
," she replied like I'd just said the most ridiculous thing on earth. "Is that all? This marvel of modern architecture and magic is
nice
?"

"I like it," Charlotte said. “Say, do you—"

Edda moved so fast that I flinched back. Her arm blurred, and there was a sharp crack. Charlotte fell back with a startled cry, clutching her cheek.

“How dare you look me in the eye.” Edda drew herself up. She pulled the white fur shawl tight around her shoulders, her face flushed with anger. "Never mind addressing me without being spoken to, servant."

Charlotte stared with wide, tear-filled eyes, her hand still pressed to her cheek.

My mouth hung open.

I snapped it shut when Edda turned back to me to resume the conversation like nothing had happened. "As I was saying.”

Rage swelled in my chest, building until I could hardly see straight. Since we got here people had been treating Charlotte like crap. And she was nothing but sweet to them. It was like kicking a puppy, and these people did it every chance they got.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of Charlotte moving her hand away from her face, staring at a drop of scarlet blood on the tip of her finger. 

Something inside me snapped.

              I flung myself forward, my arms flailing. "You bitch!"

              Edda screamed as I slammed into her. The room blurred as we fell, and I hit the ground on top of her, still swinging. Her hands were in my face, her nails gouging my skin, burning trails down both cheeks.

              I didn't care. I hardly felt any pain—I was
that
angry.

              Edda tried to grab my throat, and I curled my fingers around her wrist. Cold shot down both arms—so intense it made my bones ache.

“Stop!” Edda shrieked as a thin layer of ice crept over her skin. "How are you doing that?" She bucked wildly underneath me, launching me sideways into the wall, cracking my head hard enough that light burst in front of my eyes.

Blackness crept around the edges of my vision. Someone was screaming.

Heavy footfalls clumped down the passage toward us, and a high, distressed voice repeated my name from somewhere above me.

"Charlotte?" My lips were swollen and tight. Had Edda managed to land a blow there? I couldn't remember.

Slowly, my vision started to return, accompanied by an instant, throbbing headache. It felt like someone had been playing soccer with my skull.

Three guards came shooting around the corner, their chainmail jingling. The one in the lead saw Edda lying on the ground and skidded to a halt with a cry of horror. Then he flung himself down beside her, gathering her into his arms.

"Edda! My Edda, what happened?"

A face loomed in front of me. "Miss? Are you all right?"

"Huh?" I blinked and the worried face of the guard came into clearer focus.

He was young, not much older than I was. His sky-blue eyes were round with fright. “What happened?"

His companion, an older man with blond curls and cloudy, gray eyes, crouched beside him. Charlotte appeared over the tops of their heads, staring down at me with huge, frightened eyes. "Megan? Are you okay?"

I struggled to sit up, which sent another fit of painful throbbing through my head. Someone was playing the drums inside my skull. Scratch that. An entire Metallica concert was going on in there. I groaned and clutched the side of my head.

The younger guard grimaced. "Look at her face. The queen is going to
kill
us."

Behind the two guards, Edda was saying in a high, angry voice, "Finn, she just went crazy and came at me!"

I struggled against the headache, trying to get up. "You slapped Charlotte!" 

The younger guard took my hand and helped me to my feet. "Lean on me, miss. You look like you're about to fall over."

"Get them both to the queen," the gray-eyed guard ordered. "Now."

Finn looked worried as he helped Edda up. 

"You better hope she's in a good mood," the older guard said gruffly. "Now, move."

They half marched, half helped us down the hallway. I kept looking at Edda and the one she called Finn, noticing that his face got progressively whiter as we approached the throne room.

Edda was whining and crying, asking him how her face looked.

She looked terrible, actually. It was hard to believe I'd done so much damage so quickly. Her bottom lip was swollen and bloody, and she was already developing a large, purple bruise in the socket of her left eye.

I felt horrified for about half a second before I remembered how she'd treated Charlotte. Then I smiled, but it made my lips sting so fiercely that I stopped and turned to the young guard. "Does my face look as bad as hers?"

He grimaced and said nothing.

The older guard opened one of the double doors to the throne room, and even Edda fell silent. As we entered, the soft strains of classical music stopped. The noise from the crowd went quiet, though a murmur rippled through the room. The jotun cleared a path for us. Everyone was staring, but by then I was in too much pain to care

My escort helped me walk forward, and I leaned heavily on his arm. My head was still spinning. In fact, the throne room looked a little fuzzy around the edges.

The queen stood from her throne, her blue eyes sweeping over us before they fell on me and narrowed. "What happened?"

The older guard stepped forward and bowed at the waist. "Your Majesty, we found Amora and Lady Edda involved in a...disagreement."

Lady
Edda? I swallowed hard and glanced over at her, and she shot me a poisonous look. I’d just beat the crap out of royalty?

I looked down at my feet, my face burning. Everyone was watching this scene unfold, waiting for the queen to dole out my punishment.

“Amora, my child.” Queen Eira descended the dais and glided toward to me, reaching out to grasp my chin and tilt my face upwards. “Your face.”

Charlotte spoke up, her voice small. "Your Majesty, she only did it to defend me."

Lady Edda's face was ugly with rage. "She did
this
over a serv—"

"Enough!" The queen's voice was hard, laced with ice. She faced Lady Edda, and her eyes glittered. "I am surprised at you, niece. Shocked at how foolish you are."

Lady Edda whined, "But she—"

"I don't care."