Gathering Frost (Once Upon A Curse Book 1) (9 page)

Jeans and a green shirt are dangling from her fingers, so I snatch them, hastily getting dressed.

"That was great," I tell her as I pull the curtain aside. Instantly, her expression warms, seemingly happy that I'm more relaxed. And I realize that this entire time, all of her rambling was an attempt to make me feel more comfortable, less alone, less like a prisoner.

Friends are not something I've ever needed. But an ache in my gut urges me to try, urges me to want.

"That's the first time since the earthquake that I've showered." The words come slowly through my lips. I force them out.

"Really?" Her eyes go wide and she leans in, grabbing my arm. "I can't believe that. I mean, none of us really know what goes on inside Kardenia, but I never thought…wow."

"Yeah," I nod. No more conversation fills my mind. I have no more brilliant words to say.

I'm totally and utterly blank. Useless.

"Do you want this?" Maddy asks, presenting me with a hairbrush, which I gladly accept, if just for something to do aside from stand there awkwardly mute. "So what's it like? Kardenia, I mean."

"Like?" I hesitate, thinking. "Any life I guess. People work and sleep and eat. Nothing unusual except for people like me, who remember how it used to be, but we've adjusted."

"Yeah, but, how do you like live without any electricity, at all. I mean, even here things seem tough sometimes, but at least we have showers and refrigerators and things. You're like, medieval."

"I guess," I say, trying to keep the laughter from my voice. But it’s a nice feeling, sort of, to connect with someone, to talk.

Maddy looks around, as though afraid someone might overhear us. Leaning in, she brings her lips close to my ear, about to ask something I sense is not allowed. "And aren't you all, like…" Pause. I don't move, worried she might stop, wondering what could be so secretive. "Well, I don't mean this to be rude, but like zombies?"

"Huh?" I turn to meet her eyes at the use of such an unfamiliar word. A pit clumps to life in my throat. I retreat, pull back.

Stupid.

I was so stupid to think…

At my silence, Maddy continues in a hushed voice. "You know, zombies, the living dead? Hasn't the queen like tapped out all of your emotions? We heard you can't really feel, well, anything."

My eyes turn sharp, squint, and I grip the brush harder as the chill returns to my limbs. The shower was only a temporary fix, a temporary warm. The ice is back in my chest, strong and full of shards.

I am less than human to these people.

But Maddy is right.

I am like the dead. And it was futile to think for even a second that I might come alive again.

"It's true," I say, voice like a knife, "we don't feel anything."

At least, we're not supposed to. The queen controls us, and I cannot forget that. I am never out of her sight. I am never free. Even here, underground, surrounded by a different sort of magic, I cannot escape her hold. Cannot escape the stain she left on me, the taint.

As I think it, her fingers, invisible in my chest, clutch my heart. They squeeze harder, as if sensing my doubts, draining it, emptying everything away until I am left once more with nothingness.

My soul is not my own.

No shower, friend, or prince is ever going to change that. And the quicker I remember, the better off I'll be.

I'm here for one thing and one thing only.

My freedom.

Maddy's words stick with me. I cannot shake them. I've spent the past day dissecting them, wondering if that is what all the rebels believe, wondering if I believe it too. Am I human? Am I something else? A puppet that the queen controls with strings. A zombie. A brainless, emotionless weapon. Can something like that ever be free?

Since leaving the showers, I have tried to firm my resolve. But my heart beats uncomfortably in my chest, and my palms grow moist. I couldn't sleep. Something foreign plagues my system, flurrying my insides, knotting and twisting them until I am consumed.

Betrayal.

It sounds so simple. But for some reason, though I try to focus on my freedom, on what I stand to gain, my chest only feels pain at the idea of continuing my lies. Do I want to be the monster Maddy described, emotionless, thoughtless? No matter what I do, every path seems to lead to that road, to the queen.

I don't think I have a choice.

A knock sounds at my door, soft, gentle. I don't move from my bed, suddenly alert, chest tight as I wait.

Asher's head pokes through first, hesitant, but when he sees me watching, fully clothed and perfectly awake, his casual attitude returns.

"Jade," he exclaims, slamming the door shut behind him, making sure I have no way out. Clearly, he doesn't trust me yet.

Good.

I don't. He shouldn't either.

"Asher," I say, surprising myself with the spring in my voice. There's a subtle chime in the tone, almost cheerful. I frown. What is happening to me?

"How were the showers?" He slips farther into the room, and I notice he's holding a few boxes in his arms, colorful ones.

"Good." I shrug, trying to stay calm. My heart seems to have a mind of its own and has decided to begin beating wildly in my chest, uncomfortably. I squirm, deciding to stand. Perhaps movement will help.

"Well, you look better."

I stop, turning to stare at him. "What does that mean?"

Asher's mouth drops open and his cheeks flush slightly pink. "Oh, um, nothing…" He looks around, then his eyes pop wide, and he shoves his arms out, presenting the boxes like a gift. "Board game?"

"Sure…" I drag out the word, not quite sure if I want to let him off the hook. Judging by his reaction, I know exactly what his comment meant.

Asher gets the message and quickly sits, spreading the boxes across the ground so I can see all the names and pictures. I join him on the floor, crossing my legs, unsure of what to do next. I'm used to solitude, to the wall, to wandering the city on my own. Idle time spent in the company of others is completely foreign to me.

"We have Monopoly, Scrabble, Connect Four, and Battleship. Your choice."

I study the lids. One has spelling tiles, one has lots of fake money, one just has black and red dots, and the other has an explosion.

Definitely the explosion.

"Battleship?"

Asher smirks. "I had a feeling you'd choose that one."

He pushes the other boxes aside and opens the game up, handing me a folding case with all sorts of pins and little plastic boats. I accept them, but my mind is utterly blank, completely confused as to what I do next. I'm used to real war games, the shooting yard, fencing drills, archery.

I glance at Asher for a clue, but he is bent over, biting his lip as he stares intently at his little box. I'm not even sure if I have mine the right way.

"Um?" I ask. He looks up, startled. "What am I supposed to do?"

"You've never played?" He looks shocked, but I'm not sure why.

"No."

He shuts his case, locking the ships inside. "Come on, we'll play one you already know."

I take a deep breath as a warm tingle travels up my chest, making me feel strange, out of place. "I don't know any of them."

"Oh, sorry." He leans back, frowning. "I just assumed you guys had games too, since you're right outside that big city. I mean, we didn't have them in Kardenia before I left, I just thought people might have found them."

"They did." I shrug, glancing at the games again. Some of them look familiar. I might have seen other Black Hearts playing or maybe some kids on the street.

Asher furrows his brows, confused. "So why didn't you play?"

His question is innocent enough, but in that moment, I realize something. Asher and I know absolutely nothing about each other. To me, he is just a prince. To him, I am just a Black Heart. Our pasts, our histories, all of that is blank. And that's how I've always known everyone. The commander is not my father, he is my leader, and I never cared to look deeper. The queen is just that, my queen. I don't need to understand who she is. Members of the guard are my coworkers. The butcher is the butcher. The seamstress is the seamstress. And so on, for almost everyone I've ever met.

But meeting the genuine curiosity in Asher's eyes, I want to introduce myself. Not the hard girl on the wall. The other girl, the one who came alive in the solace of my bedroom or during explorations of the city. The person no one but me has ever met. Maybe then I won't seem so much like a monster.

"I didn't have anyone to play with," I say, voice lower than normal, softer. "I grew up with the commander of the Black Hearts, no brothers or sisters or anything."

"No friends?" he asks.

I keep my gaze locked on the floor. "Not really. I spent most of my time training with him or by myself. The boys my age didn't really enjoy sparring with me. And well, the girls were more interested in clothes and things, so I stayed away. Once I was old enough to explore the city, I spent a lot of my time there, reading." I look up, finally meeting his gaze. "Just like you found me."

Asher leans forward, putting his hand over mine. It's warm, just like his eyes, filled with a light I've never seen before, soft and glowing. "Believe it or not, I understand exactly what you mean. Before I ran away, my life was one of solitude too. No family who cared. No friends either."

"Really?" I ask, biting my tongue before I reveal that he's the prince. I would have thought a life in the palace was filled with people, servants in the least. Though, as my mind wanders back to my interaction with the queen, walking those dark and empty halls, it's not so difficult to imagine. The bigger the home, the easier it is to be ignored. "Is that why you left?"

Asher leans back, pulling his hand away. "Sort of."

I want to know more. How he freed himself. How he escaped. Why he left when the entire kingdom was his to inherit. But I hold the questions in, sitting back. I'm not ready to tell him that I know who he is, not ready to give away that small upper hand, not ready to get so personal.

"Did you find what you were looking for here?" I ask instead, settling on an easier question.

"I did." He nods, genuine, honest. "I'll always be an outsider of sorts, I guess, because I'm from the magic world. But I found something here I never would have found back home."

"What?" 

Asher smirks, shaking his head. "I can't tell you."

"Why not?" I fight the urge to cross my arms.

"It's just something you need to discover on your own. I'll tell you soon."

I lean forward, narrowing my eyes. "When?"

"When you're ready."

For what? I want to ask, but I don't. I keep it inside. Because I hear something in those words that frightens me, a sort of finality or inevitability. There is no doubt in Asher's mind that I will be ready at some point. He believes in me, which means he is beginning to trust me…maybe, just a little. But even that small amount is too much.

I'm unintentionally doing everything the queen asked. The more human I try to be, the more of a monster I seem to become.

But Asher is unaware of the turmoil thrumming through my veins as he pulls the case back out, turning it so I can see the plastic boats he attached to the board and the pile of pegs he's left untouched in a little side compartment.

"Okay, the first rule of Battleship is there is no Battleship."

"Huh?" I ask.

Asher rolls his eyes, shaking his head with a mysterious smile. "Never mind."

Every day of the next week, Asher arrives at my door with a new game to teach me. The hours are filled with new rules to explain and new cheats to attempt. But they're also filled with something else, something new that I never expected.

Laughter.

Conversation.

I'm beginning to understand why the other guards on the wall passed the time playing cards and drinking beer, rather than standing alone in the dark like I did. The companionship is almost fun. The more I talk about my childhood, the easier it becomes and the more I reveal. Though Asher does not discuss his time with the queen, he tells me about life in the rebel camp. How it felt to grow up an outsider, how they eventually welcomed him into the fold.

I've discovered I'm a sore loser, as Asher labels it. But I call him a sore winner. More than once, I've had to stop myself from slapping the smirk off his lips. But the look on his face when I beat him at a game he's been playing his entire life is victory enough for me.

Though we talk a lot, there is still a divide—a line that seems to stretch between us. We do not pass beyond polite conversation. I do not make demands of him. We get close, but not close enough that he will trust me. Yet, against my better judgment, I'm curious about what might wait beyond that barrier. Will his smile grow deeper? Will his touch become more carefree? Will his words turn more open?

Will mine?

The doorknob turns, creaking, grabbing my attention.

Asher is back. I wait, heart in my throat. The sight of him has begun to put me off balance, to steal my thoughts, to make my mind jumbled. I'm not sure what it means, but I know that I've grown to like the loss of control, the small skip of excitement.

"Morning," he says.

I don't respond, my voice feels trapped, so instead, I offer up a smile.

"Okay, I brought something I think you'll really like. It's got more rules than normal, but it's very strategic so I think you'll really get into it."

Asher pauses when he sees my face.

I bite my lip, unsure if I should ask what I had been planning to ask.

But I miss the outdoors.

My eyes have adjusted to the dim blue lights of the rebel base, but my soul has not. I yearn for the trees, for the fresh air. My skin wishes to feel the kiss of the sun again. My muscles ache to stretch and to run. My body is not used to so much idleness, so much laziness. I'm made for action.

So I had decided that today I would gather enough courage to see if Asher will take me above ground. But watching him now, I'm not so sure.

"What?" His voice is wry, as though he can tell just by looking at me that there is something on my mind.

I breathe deeply, and then expel the words very quickly, all at once. "I was wondering if maybe you might take me outside."

He laughs and shakes his head. "Nope. Not happening."

"Why?" I ask. His reaction has caused my heart to race a little faster. He didn’t even pause, didn’t even think it over or consider it.

"Just because." He shrugs it off, opening the new game he's brought. But I step forward, confronting him, feeling impulsive.

"I'm serious, I really want to be outdoors for a little while."

He stops, lips wobbling while he tries to determine what to say. "Look, I'm sorry. I would take you outside, really, I would. But there are rules about that sort of thing at the base, so I can't."

"Rules for everyone, or just for me?" I peer at him, knowing he's hiding something.

"Well, if we had other prisoners, those would be the rules for them too…" Asher trails off, smiling meekly.

I step back as if hit. Though I've been acutely aware of my situation, I never realized that was how everyone here saw me, just as a prisoner. I didn't think that was how Asher saw me, not really. My insides harden as my chest cramps painfully.

"Jade," he says and reaches for my arm, but I back away.

"Why am I here?" I ask, abrupt and cold.

Asher flinches, blinking back in shock. "What do you mean?" He stammers.

"Why did you take me hostage? It can't be just to sit around and play board games all day. I'm surprised that's not against the rules too."

"Maybe I just thought you were cute." He shrugs, smiles, trying to make me forget with his jokes. But the blood in my arms has started to warm, it heats to an uncomfortable level. A drum pounds in my ears, growing faster, louder, blocking out every other sound.

It scares me.

It intrigues me.

I don't want to back down, not when my gut is urging me to demand, to fight.

"Asher," I say, pressing for the truth. "Why am I here? Why did you bring me with you? Why me?"

My voice rises to a shout as my blood boils, stings, races through my veins zapping my body acutely to life. My vision turns scarlet as my energy builds.

I like the feeling.

I don't try to suppress it.

Asher cocks his head to the side, watching me, curious. A grin pulls at his cheeks as a spark ignites behind his indigo eyes—a challenge.

"I'm not going to tell you," he goads.

"Why?" My fists clench at my waist.

Suddenly, the gray walls of this room seem small, more confining than I ever realized. I miss the breeze on my cheeks, the fresh smell of grass, the vastness of the sky. The outdoors call to me, and I am done with this artificial world, this concrete prison. Asher really must think me idiotic if he thought that pretty curtains could hide the truth of what this room is. A cell.

I am hardly thinking anymore. The heart in my chest pounds hard against my ribs, as though it will jump free of my body. The thunder drowns out my ears as the heat under my skin begins to rise.

I no longer have reason.

I realize what I do have, what surges through my body as I watch Asher mock me. Fury. Anger.

Without warning, I scream in frustration and charge, swinging a fist at Asher's face, feeling a little thrill as his mouth drops open in shock. My muscles shout with glee to finally be used, to stretch and pull once more.

Asher catches my hand in his, so I punch with my left hand. He catches that one too and we are stuck, his back against the wall as I press into his frame.

I cannot move my arms, but I still have legs, so I shift my knee to deliver a hard blow, but Asher anticipates the move and pushes me backward. I stumble over my feet, feeling blinded by the rage burning my insides. My brain cannot concentrate on the fight and it makes me weak. That in turn only makes my blood boil more.

I charge.

He pushes me aside again, but I clutch his fingers, dragging his arms to the floor with me, and Asher's body follows. We tumble, arms and legs fold together, fight against each other.

Our arms lock, neither giving in. My hands grip his bicep, and his muscles harden as he grips mine. But I roll, gaining the upper hand and the higher position, pinning him as my legs tighten on his, constraining them so he cannot move.

Below me, his body rumbles, starts to shake.

My gaze travels slowly up to his face, knowing what I will find, and I am right. Silent laughter wracks his frame. I want to shake him, to hit him, but I can't move for fear of giving him the upper hand.

"What?" I snap. My mouth is the only part of me that is free to fight back. I breathe heavily. But so does he.

"You're angry." He smirks. "Really, really angry. It's fantastic."

"No, I'm not," I growl.

"Yes, you are. Trust me. I recognize real fury when I see it."

Our faces are close together, I suddenly realize. His lips are just a few inches below mine, flushed pink like his cheeks. His eyes consume my gaze, pull it in, drag me closer.

The heat in my veins shifts, just slightly, into something I do not recognize. An emotion I cannot place.

Panic fills me.

I must escape.

The single thought consumes my mind. I am not ready for whatever is happening, for this new sensation sending shivers down my spine, for the promise in his gaze.

Asher shifts below me. His grip slackens and his hands move slowly up my arms, over my shoulders, toward my neck. Gentle. Smooth.

I cannot breathe.

"I'm not," I gasp and roll free of him, standing quickly, walking to the far corner of the room, putting as much distance between us as possible. I gulp down air, shove it into my chest, calm my racing pulse. I pray for the freeze to return, for my limbs to grow cold, to grow familiar.

This madness is not me.

I am steady. I am a rock. I am not the storm that rages and spits fire into the sky.

"What is happening to me?" I whisper.

But a hand lands softly on my shoulder, and I remember that I am not alone, that my question had waiting ears. I turn, eyes drifting over my shoulder.

"It's okay, Jade," Asher soothes.

"It's not." I shake my head, step back, out of his almost embrace.

"You're allowed to feel, people are supposed to feel," he urges, voice heavy and full of passion. I try to believe him, I want to, but the freeze is so much easier. I am used to winter. I am okay with it.

I step back until I touch the wall, until I am cornered with nowhere else to go.

"You're ready for the truth, and the truth is I felt like you do once," Asher says, following me to the wall, trapping me, enveloping me in the kindness in his voice. His hand comes to my face, cupping my cheek as his thumb runs gently over my skin.

I don't know what to say. Speech has left me. But there are unspoken words surging up my throat, ones I know I should not say, a confession I know I cannot voice. My body yearns to tell him the truth, to tell him why I am here. But I can't, not now, not when he's looking at me like that. Instead, I tell him another truth. One I've owed him.

"I know you're the queen's son," I murmur, but my voice is loud enough to cross the small space between our bodies.

He stills for a moment, sighs while his shoulders fall just slightly. "I guessed as much. But that only means you know that I'm telling the truth. Jade, I lived in old Kardenia for the first few years of my life, surrounded by a populace that cannot feel, cursed with a mother who stole everyone else's emotions yet turned none of them onto her only child. And I know now, after living here for so long, that that is not how life is supposed to be."

He shakes his head, lets it fall. I remain silent.

"People are supposed to laugh and love. A mother should cry when she births her first child, she should not sit there silently, not bothering to ask to hold her baby. When someone dies, it should be a sad thing. It should tear your chest in two. Life is full of highs and lows, of passion and grief. It should not trot forward at a steady pace of nothingness. But my mother is a selfish woman, so she uses her magic to fuel her own heart, to experience everyone else's love and everyone else's sorrow, to fill the void in her chest."

"How did you escape?" I ask. Freedom is all I want—it's everything. How did he grasp it? How can I?

"On the day our worlds merged, even though I was just a boy, I felt hope for the first time. Armies came and I saw people filled with passion, filled with fear and love and drive, and I knew there was another way. So I ran, looking for these people who dared fight the queen. Wanting more than anything to join them."

"But how?" I ask. "How did you escape her thrall?"

Asher looks away, to the floor, and I realize I have lost him. He is hiding something. A secret he will not tell me. A sure sign that he does not trust me.

But that is for the better.

I shrink free of his embrace and he lets me go. The queen gave me an impossible task. Trust cannot be given to the heartless.

But somehow, I don't feel so heartless anymore. Because I was furious. My blood burned. The rage in my chest now evaporates, like a ghost, disappearing rapidly as my body returns to its normal blankness. But it was there.

"I think maybe I was angry," I confess, "but it is gone now."

Asher's face lights up, excited, and I recognize that this is the hope he was talking about. "It's working then."