The Cold King (2 page)

If her shaking knees would have let her, Calia would have run. Instead she stood in place, trembling, and waited with all the other villagers for their king to speak.

He was silent for a long moment, seeming to take in the small town around him. Men shuffled their feet and women twisted their hands together in nervousness. But Calia glanced around, wondering what the king was looking at—or for.

His voice was a low rumble that seemed to reverberate in her chest. “Loyal subjects, it is with great sadness that I inform you that your former friend and neighbor, and my treasured personal servant, Seleda, has passed from this life to the next.” A collective gasp came from the crowd and one mother began to weep. The Cold King held his hand up for silence. “I am sure you will mourn her as I will. But life will continue for the rest of us and as such, I have need for a new personal servant. I will trust you wise villagers to choose the most capable of you all to fill this important role. I will receive my new servant in my throne room tomorrow at dusk.” He looked out over the crowd again with his hidden eyes and Calia shivered as his gaze passed over her. The king gave a curt nod and stepped down from the platform. Without a backwards glance he made his way back to the road leading to the castle.

The villagers slowly came out of their daze and several mothers began to wail in earnest with the first mother that had cried. Men twisted their hats in their hands and began rushing about looking for their wives and children.

The mayor of their town pushed his way to the platform the king had vacated. “Town meeting!” he called through cupped hands. “Town meeting tonight at dusk, right here!”

Calia gripped her empty basket, picked up her skirts and ran home.

“Mother, did you hear?” she asked as she burst through the door.

“Hush, you idiot girl,” her mother hissed. “I just got those two to sleep.”

Calia glanced at the sleeping twins and lowered her voice. “Mother, did you hear? The Cold King came to town and said he needs a new personal servant. We’re having a town meeting tonight.”

Her mother’s face paled and she pressed a hand over her heart. “Oh my… oh…” Her eyes grew shiny with tears and Calia was shocked to see her strong, harsh mother trembling with fear. “I knew this day was coming. I was hoping that old coot would live until my children were grown.”

Calia bit her lip but her curiosity overcame her fear. “Will one of us really have to go?”

“Yes. We will have to choose someone tonight and send them tomorrow.” Her mother dropped to her chair. “Perhaps someone will volunteer. That happens occasionally.”

Calia shuddered. “Why would anyone do that? Don’t they have to stay up there until they die? What if the Cold King is cruel? Wouldn’t they miss their family, their friends?”

“I do not know, girl,” her mother muttered. “Stop with your chattering, my head is pounding.”

Calia bit her lips together again, trying to keep all her questions in.

“When is the meeting?” her mother finally asked.

“Mother, please can’t I go as well?” Calia begged.

“For the final time, no!” her mother snapped. “I need you to stay home and look after the younger children. I do not know how long this will take and I cannot have the babies out after dark in the cold.”

Calia pouted but dutifully handed her mother her hat and gloves.

Mrs. Thorne jerked them on roughly then visibly calmed herself and smoothed them over her hands. She set the hat just right and inspected her teeth in their one tiny mirror. To Calia she was just a harsh, unloving mother and to the town’s people she was a nuisance who thought too much of herself. But Mrs. Thorne was certain good fortune, a gold fortune and ease in life were just around the corner for her. She was certain that she deserved it.

With a grim smile she kissed the younger children but left without a word of goodbye for the oldest.

Calia watched the door for a moment, wishing her mother would change her mind and let her attend the important meeting. She was always left out of everything; her curiosity was always left unsatisfied. She doubted her mother would even share anything she learned that night. With a sigh, Calia turned back to her chores.

She washed the dinner from the babies faces and began to clean the dishes and table. After she wrestled her siblings into bed she continued with her chores. Exhausted, she finally allowed herself to collapse into her mother’s arm chair just as she came home.

“Mother! What happened? Who volunteered?” she asked, jumping up from the chair.

If Mrs. Thorne had noticed her daughter sitting in the chair specifically reserved for her and her alone, she said nothing. She kept her back to her daughter while she removed her coat and hat and kept her silence as she removed her shoes and moved into the kitchen to push the kettle over the fire.

“Mother?” Calia asked again.

“No one volunteered,” her mother finally said, but she still did not turn to face her daughter.

Calia waited for more but Mrs. Thorne just fiddled with her tea leaves and cup. “So what happened?” she finally burst out. “Who did they choose?”

The silence stretched out and the skin at the back of her neck began to prickle.

“We chose you,” her mother finally answered.

Calia pulled in a shuddery breath. “Me?” Suddenly her tiny world of cooking and cleaning for her mother and tending her siblings didn’t seem so terrible.

Mrs. Thorne turned to face her daughter. “Yes girl, you. You were the best choice.” Her cold words matched her cold demeanor perfectly and it chilled Calia to her core.

“But I do not want to go! I—”

Her mother cut in angrily. “Well someone has to go and you were the one chosen.” Her face held no remorse or sadness, only annoyance and aggravation.

Calia clutched her hands over her chest in panicky disbelief. “But why? Surely the Cold King won’t be happy with someone as lowly as me.”

“He’s happy with whoever we send,” her mother snapped. “And we’re sending you.” She noticed the tears welling in her daughters eyes and softened the tiniest bit. “Really, it’s for the best. All the other girls have prospects and you have none. You could have a better life being a servant in a castle than being an old spinster in town.”

Calia reared up, tears no longer threatening. “I could get married,” she argued indignantly. “Someone could want me; I would make a more useful wife than most of the girls in this town.”

Mrs. Thorne snorted. “Useful, yes. But young men aren’t looking for useful, they want beautiful. Who’s going to fall in love with a girl like you? You are nothing to look at, you aren’t lady like in the least, your manners are atrocious and then there’s the matter of your father.” Her words hurt Calia so fiercely she could hardly breathe. She knew she wasn’t the loveliest or politest or most charming girl but her mother’s harsh assessment left her feeling as though there was nothing special or lovable about her at all. And the double meaning of her mother’s words had not escaped her. The villagers hadn’t chosen her to go, they had
all
chosen her, her mother included.

“And what about you?” Calia asked. Her lips quivered and she bit down before continuing. “Do you not need me?”

Her mother sighed. “Calia, it’s time you moved on—”

“I am only seventeen!”

“Yes, seventeen. And next year all the girls your age will begin to receive offers of courtship and the year after that they will be married. They’ll go on to have children and contribute to our town. What will you do here? You cannot live in my home forever and you cannot work and live on your own, it would be disgraceful.”

Calia’s thoughts were racing and she reached out for any argument that would keep her from being sent to the Cold King. “But who will help you? Surely you cannot do everything by yourself.”

Mrs. Thorne poured steaming water over her tea leaves. “Your sister is old enough to take on more chores.”

“Moli is only eleven; she cannot do everything I can do.”

Mrs. Thorn slammed her cup to the counter. “She can and she will. Just as you will go to the Cold King tomorrow and be his servant. It’s been decided.”

Calia tried to pull a breath of air into her tight chest. Surely there was a way out of such a dire circumstance.

She tried to imagine what life was going to be like for her and couldn’t. Silently, she cursed everyone for always ignoring her, never bothering to tell her anything. The only future she could picture was ruled by a looming mad man in a mask.

Calia shook her head, unable to even fathom it. She couldn’t go. She wouldn’t. “And if I refuse?” she whispered. “If I run away?”

Her mother arched an eyebrow. “This isn’t a request. It’s a demand. The Cold King keeps us safe and warm and fed and in return he asks for a few faithful servants. We are lucky he allows us to choose who will go.”

“Not lucky for me,” Calia mumbled.

Her mother ignored her comment and continued. “You have been chosen and if you refuse you will be killed.”

Calia gasped. “Killed?”

“He isn’t called the Cold King for nothing.”

“But killed? Surely that cannot be.”

Her mother gave an exasperated sigh. “It rarely comes to that. I’m sure most of the people that go to the castle find themselves quite comfortable in their new lives. Besides, if you don’t go then I will drag you. You will not shame me any further.” There was a dark gleam in her eye and Calia could only numbly nod.

Sensing her daughters brokenness, Mrs. Thorne relented a little and patted Calia’s shoulder. “Try to get some sleep dear. You have a big day ahead of you tomorrow.”

Chapter Two

C
alia slept but it was
not restful. Nightmares of winter and diamond encrusted masks tormented her until she woke at daybreak in a panic, tangled in her bed clothes.

Breakfast was a silent affair and every moment reminded her of just how unwanted she was by
everyone
in the village.

“Show your sister how to complete her new duties,” was the only thing her mother said to her before she left for the market.

Calia fumbled through the chores, whispering explanations when needed. She could tell Moli was quickly overwhelmed and felt sorry for her, but not as sorry as she felt for herself.

Exhausted and grief stricken, she let herself collapse in the armchair while her sister attempted to fix dinner.

“I cannot do this!” Moli wailed from the kitchen.

“You’ll have to, dear. Because I won’t be here tomorrow to do it and Mother won’t accept failure.” Calia tried to warm her harsh words but her sister continued to sob. She got up and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “Please do not cry. It’s not so hard; I know you can do it. And if you can do this well then in a few years you can be married instead of having to go to be the servant of the Cold King.”

Moli threw her arms around her older sister, surprising her and almost knocking her back against the counter. “I do not want you to go!”

Calia smoothed the girl’s hair down. “It’s going to be all right, I am sure that I will be fine—”

“No, not you, me! What am I going to do? I cannot be mothers slave!”

Calia’s hand stilled on her sister’s hair. It took her a moment to speak and when she did her voice shook with hurt and anger. “
You
aren’t going to be a slave. You are going to help mother until you are old enough to get married and have your own family.
I
am going to be slave in that cold castle until I die.”

Her younger sister sniffled and shook her off. “Well at least you won’t have to put up with mother anymore.”

Unable to tolerate any more unkindness, Calia left her sister to her own devices in the kitchen and didn’t even stir when smoke began to permeate the room.

Dinner was silent, the family picking at the burned remains of meat and vegetables on their plates.

Calia didn’t bother to attempt to eat. She stayed curled up on the small window seat until it was time for her to leave.

When the sun finally began to set, there were no gentle words of encouragement for Calia or well-wishers to see her off. She was given the rattiest cloak in the house and a broken basket to carry the few mementos of her family and life that she was allowed to take.

Her mother gave her a quick kiss on the cheek before shoving her out the door and slamming it shut.

Tears burned her eyes as she stood on the stoop of her former home and no matter how she steeled herself, her knees shook. It took everything in her to take the first step and then the next and the next. No one said anything to her as she passed by on wobbly legs. No one would meet her eye. Calia had never felt so small and unloved. Every moment of cold silence endured while forcing herself through the village stabbed her in the heart.

No one cared.

But the pain strengthened and numbed her. She did not pause as she set foot on the paved road to the castle. It climbed higher into the mountains and soon her calves burned and she gasped in the thin air but still she continued. Birds chirped happily around her and the setting sun gleamed, casting a glow on all of the frost covered trees. It seemed even nature did not care for her sorrow or pain, she noted dully.

As the road wound out between two high mounts, the castle suddenly loomed over the road in the near distance and Calia jerked to a stop, her ashen hair flying over her shoulders. Her new home appeared as cold and magnificent as its king. The cool grey stones of the massive structure blended in eerily with the mountain behind it. One lone spire stood above it all and she wondered if anyone was up there watching for her.

She rubbed her suddenly sweaty hands on her ragged cloak and swallowed hard. Calia hadn’t thought it possible to feel more out of place than she had at home but staring at the imposing castle made her reconsider.