“Well, if you’ve learned about Greece and its’ people’s beliefs you must have read about it in a book,” I reason, “So you must comprehend that language.”
“I understand many languages,” the polar bear says quietly as his eyes look everywhere except directly at me.
“That must be nice,” I tell him. I lean back in my chair and gather the furs from the back of the chair around my shoulders for warmth. “My father would sometimes bring books back for me from raids, mostly English books. At times I can understand what the books are saying but sometimes their words are confusing.”
“That’s all a part of learning; I’m afraid,” the polar bear says, “sometimes it just takes time.”
“I suppose you’re right,” I grin slightly.
“What are you working on right now with your glassblowing?” the polar bear asks. Ever since I discovered the forgotten studio I’ve been dipping my toes back into the beautiful art form and so far I’ve created several small sculptures and a set of long cylindrical chimes that create music when they chime together in the breeze on my balcony. My most recent attempt was a sculpture similar to the chandelier hanging from the studio ceiling. My work wasn’t nearly as flawless but when the polar bear laid eyes on it, he demanded I allow him to have it for his bed chamber. Though I didn’t feel it was nearly as perfect as I would have liked it, I agreed and he whisked it away. In all the months I’ve been here I’ve yet to see where the polar bear sleeps at night and despite our budding friendship I still don’t even know his name.
“I’m working on a bowl that will have layers that open up like a rose in bloom,” I explain as I visualize the sketch I drew last night before I went to sleep.
“Are you planning to color the glass?” the polar bear asks. Once I rekindled my passion for glassblowing the polar bear has made sure to take an interest in my work and he always has a bunch of questions waiting for me.
“Yes,” I nod, “I’m going to try to make the main color red with the edges of the bowl tinted orange. It won’t be easy, but I’m going to give it a try.”
“You should,” the polar bear encourages. “I’d love to see it when you’re finished.”
“If it turns out, you mean,” I correct him.
“Even if it doesn’t, which I’m sure it will,” the polar bear grins. “You don’t give yourself enough credit, Hel. With a little more time you’ll be an even more accomplished artist than you already are.”
I mull over his words as I rub my roughened hands together. When I finally look up I find the polar bear watching me. His gaze is intense, but I can’t figure out what he is thinking.
Before I can ask, the polar bear stands and says, “I have some things to see to, why don’t you go start on your new project?”
“I think I might,” I say as I pull myself out of the chair. The polar bear grins distractedly as he lumbers out of the room.
In my studio, I sigh and brace my hands on the copper worktable. Sometimes I feel so alone here at the palace. The polar bear keeps me company sometimes, but then he abruptly leaves and shuts himself away somewhere else in the palace for hours on end. Gustav is friendly enough, but I rarely see him around the palace because his work as the groundskeeper keeps him busy so much of the time; and although Rana smiles and exchanges pleasantries with me when I see her in the halls she always maintains an aloof distance as if she doesn’t believe we are in the same social grouping.
Beyond that, Gerda has not warmed up to me at all. If anything, her hostility toward me grows with each passing day. Other than the polar bear and his four attendants nobody else inhabits the palace. Father used to tell stories of courts in England filled with men and women of all ages, all buzzing around to gain favor from their leader, but since I haven’t seen so much as an Earl within these walls I’m left to wonder what kind of palace this is. Perhaps it’s abandoned from an earlier king’s reign and our King doesn’t know that the polar bear uses it; my knowledge of our ruler is limited as our village back home was governed over by the ruthless Earl who lived in finery while the rest of us were starving.
My chest aches as I think of home. Back home there was always someone around, making noise; talking or helping with the chores. I miss my parents and my siblings, especially Espen and Leif, who were always up to some mischief or another. I miss Britta and Kiersten squabbling over a bolt of fabric one of them had bought off a traveling merchant and I wonder if Arika’s secret has been uncovered yet. As much as it pains me, I even miss Donar’s commanding presence.
The palace is so quiet most of the time; it feels like an ornately decorated tomb. Wrapping my arms around my waist, I wander to the studio window and stare out onto the sunless day. A bird lands on the window ledge, tilting its head to look at me in curiosity. Ignoring the bird, I study the line of trees at the end of the palace grounds and get lost in a memory.
Since arriving at the palace, each night I have the strangest dream. It starts almost immediately after I close my eyes and fall asleep. I dream of a man entering my bedchamber and slipping into bed alongside me. He lies as close to me as he dares and wraps his arms around me, placing a soft kiss upon my neck. His touch feels so real but each morning when I wake up I’m alone, so I know it’s only a dream.
Why am I having these dreams? There is no man in my life except for the men inside these palace walls and I can’t say I’m particularly close to either of the attendants and the polar bear is a beast. Is my subconscious reminding me of the love I’ve lost? If so, why now? He’s been gone for a while now.
I stand at the window staring out onto the palace lawn thinking about the confusing dreams and longing for the wise words of my mother or father for so long that I don’t even notice that the sun sets and the sky darkens. The room plunges into darkness except for the fire going in the oven, but I don’t so much as move to light a candle.
The moon is rising in the night’s sky when the polar bear finds me and knocks at the studio door with his paw. The spell broken, I turn and face the polar bear.
“Are you alright?” the polar bear asks. “You didn’t come to the great hall for dinner.”
“I guess I lost track of time,” I murmur as I shake out my fingers, stiff from gripping my elbows so tightly.
“You seemed like you were miles away when I entered the room,” the polar bear comments while reaching for a candle in the sconce on the wall and lighting it. The light illuminates the concern etched on the polar bear’s face.
“I was thinking about home,” I explain. “I miss my family. Our cottage was always so full of sound. Sometimes it feels like I’m the only one wandering these stone halls.”
“I did not mean to make you feel so lonely,” the polar bear frowns. “Perhaps I can do something to make you feel more like this is your home.”
“Oh no, you’ve already done so much for me,” I shake my head as I place my hand on the polar bear’s arm. His crystalline eyes flicker to my hand on his arm before looking me straight in the eye.
“What if I want to do something nice for you?” the polar bear questions, “you’ve given up so much to be here with me.”
“I did what I had to for my family,” I reply quietly.
A hurt look passes across the polar bear’s face as he straightens to his full height. “I hope one day you might start to like it here,” he says stiffly. “In the meantime, you should eat; it isn’t good to skip a meal.”
“I will,” I promise though the polar bear has already slipped out the door.
Out in the corridor, Prince Dyre leans his massive beast frame against the wall and sighs. He had no idea Hel was feeling so alone. The last thing he wanted was her to feel like these palace walls were a prison she was being forced to stay inside.
He’d been getting better about being around her lately but niggling doubts had a way of creeping in. He wasn’t this guy, the shy, awkward type that hid in the shadows watching the girl he wanted to impress. The girl he needed to impress. But how could he ex
pect this beautiful girl to fall in love with the beast he was cursed to be during the day? How could he show her that beneath the fur lay a man who missed traveling the world aboard one of his father’s ships, who used to spend hours locked away in the studio she now occupied bending glass to his will, who’d personally filled half a wall of the library with books he’d brought back from his extensive travels. Hel still didn’t know who exactly he was, and he wasn’t sure how much he could tell her because of this damn curse that kept him from being his true self.
Watching her these past months had made Dyre even more certain that Hel was the girl he would want at his side for the rest of his days. He owed it to her to do something to make her feel more at ease in the palace. Of anyone, Dyre knew better than most how lonely the palace had become since the curse had been placed upon him. He’d driven nearly everyone he’d ever known as far away as he could and now Hel was paying the price.
There had to be something Dyre could do to make Hel smile. And maybe then she would see him in a new light.
With that thought in mind, Dyre pushed away from the wall and headed for the Solarium in his chambers, the only room in the entire castle higher up than the bedchamber he’d chosen to isolate himself from even his attendants in.
The next morning dawned like every other morning since I arrived at the palace. I awoke with the feeling that someone had been holding me throughout the night only to find the other side of the bed empty and cold to the touch. Gerda arrives minutes later and drags me through her rough morning routine to get me dressed.
Rana had made me several new day dresses to wear around the palace and the one Gerda forced me into this morning was pale yellow with exquisite embroidery. As I stare in the mirror I realize how much I’ve filled out in the past few months. Gone is the thin girl whose curves looked like they belonged on someone else who entered the palace walls and in her place is a woman with soft curves that enhanced the dress I’m wearing in all the right places. I wonder what Kiersten would think if she saw me now that my collarbones are no longer visible above the neckline of my gown.
I select a piece of fruit and some bread and jam for breakfast from the great hall and eat in solitude before slipping through the door in the kitchen onto the terrace. The palace gardens are in full bloom and I lose myself inside them until the sun shines brightly overhead at midday.
I stop and puzzle over a bush of roses with golden blooms blooming from thornless black stems.
“They’re golden roses. Master’s mother bred them herself from a black rose her husband brought her back from somewhere in the west and a yellow rose,” I turn toward the source of the sound and find Gustav harvesting honey from the apiary. Because he’s only mist and smoke the bees fly around and through him without stinging him.
“Your master?” I echo, unsure who he’s talking about. The only creature I know him to serve is the polar bear.
Gustav nods, continuing without further explanation about his mysterious master, “She was a wonderful woman. Everything she touched was magic. We were all so sorrowful after she passed on. The palace has never been the same since, but those roses bloom faithfully every year and they don’t even need any upkeep. Whatever is in them regenerates without any help from anyone.”
I lean down and sniff one of the full blooms, catching a sweet sugary smell with a hint of spice. “They’re beautiful,” I murmur as I straighten.
“That they are,” Gustav agrees with a nod of his head. He goes back to his work as I gather the hem of my dress and retreat into the palace to get out of the sun. When I glance back the sun hits the golden roses and seems to reflect light off them. I shake my head and seek out the cool darkness of the glass blowing studio, determined to finish my latest project by dinner.
I place an old pinafore over my day dress and push back my sleeves, approaching my worktable. I uncover my project, the flower shaped bowl. The inner layers curl together as each added layer curls back like a flower in bloom. I need one more petal layer, but this outermost layer will be the most complicated because I need to combine two colors into the glass just the right way so the edges look like they’re tinted then fuse the last layers to the main sculpture.
Using a curved rod I pull open the door of the oven and check the fire. Satisfied that it’s hot enough, judging by the tip of the rod turning an angry orange I thrust the curved rod into a bucket of water and reach for my blow pipe ready to get started.
I lose myself in my work; concentrating on getting just the right blends in the metal oxides I need to tint the glass and forming it into the shapes I need. It’s so easy to lose track of the world around me while I’m working with the glass. Time shoots past without my noticing until I finally put the last piece into place and carefully transfer it into the cooling oven, which will cool the piece at a controlled temperature.
I stand back and wipe sweat and a stray lock of hair off my forehead as I bask in the piece I’ve just accomplished. I can’t believe I actually did it.
“You look happier today,” the polar bear remarks as he steps into the room.
“I finished the piece I was telling you about yesterday,” I tell him, my voice filled with pride.
“That’s great,” the polar bear sounds genuinely pleased for me.
“What brings you by?” I ask as I untie the pinafore and place it on a hook on the wall.
“I was hoping I could show you something,” the polar bear says.
“Right now?”
The polar bear shoots me his signature smirk, “unless you’re busy with something else.”
“Oh, I think I could spare some time,” I mirror his smirk.
“Great,” the polar bear looks pleased. Ducking back into the corridor he gestures for me to join him, “shall we?”
The polar bear grabs my hand in his massive paw and pulls me along up the grand staircase. Instead of splitting off toward the second floor corridor the polar bear continues onward to the stairwell for the north tower. Up and up we climb, the windows of the stairwell would give me the only indication of how many floors we’ve passed but the growing darkness distorts the view from the narrow window.
“Where are we going?” I laugh breathlessly, scampering to keep up with the polar bear’s long strides.
“You’ll see,” the polar bear answers mischievously.
I shake my head as we wind our way up the north tower before finally bursting through a doorway into a massive room. The entire north wall is made of heavy paned glass and the ceiling overhead is one big skylight, giving the illusion of looking up into the wide open sky. In the skies above the full moon shines brightly and the sky is dotted with a blanket of glowing stars. My hand comes free from the polar bear’s loose grasp as I stare at the sky above, awestruck. It takes me a minute for my eyes to come back down and search the room. Candles flicker about the room and roses the color of freshly drawn blood grow around the window panes of the north wall windows. Near the windows, a candlelit table set for two holds two covered plates.
“What is this place?” I ask in wonderment as I turn to face the polar bear.
“It’s a solarium,” the polar bear explains. “I come up here to look at the stars. It’s the highest room in the entire palace.” He pauses and bites his bottom lip, “do you like it?”
“It’s amazing,” I murmur. As I gaze around the room and catch a glimpse of the polar bear’s hopeful face, I whisper, “you did all of this for me?”
“You deserve something special, Hel,” the polar bear answers quietly.
Unexpected tears well up in the corners of my eyes. I rush to brush them away.
“What is it?” the polar bear draws closer in concern. “Did I do something to upset you?”
I shake my head feeling embarrassed. “No, no you didn’t do anything wrong. It’s just that nobody has ever done anything like this for me before.”
The polar bear looks at me quizzically, “Surely there were men back in your village that showered you with attention.
Such beauty and kindness as yours should have men flocking to your side.”
I blush under his gaze, “there was someone once, but he’s gone now.”
“Because you came here?” the polar bear inquires.
I shake my head, “no, he’s been gone for quite a while. He died in a raid somewhere.”
The polar bear looks confused by my response and I begin to feel uncomfortable so I walk to the window and gaze up at the night’s sky. “It’s not something I really like to talk about,” I murmur without turning around.
“Of course,” the polar bear says quickly. “I’m sorry; I did not wish to pry.”
“It’s alright,” I turn and smile weakly.
The polar bear motions to the table, “please, join me. I’ve had the kitchen prepare something I think you’ll like.”
Wordlessly I join him at the table, allowing him to pull out my chair before I slide onto the seat. My hand accidentally brushes against the polar bear's arm when I go to grab the linen napkin off the table; static from my touch causes his fur to stand on end as something sparks within me. I've brushed against the polar bear in passing before but this feels completely different – a strange new sensation.
“Thank you,” I breathe, trying to ignore the strange feeling I’m experiencing as I lay my napkin in my lap like I’ve seen the Earl’s wife do at feast celebrations.
The polar bear grins in relief as he uncovers the plate in front of me. Steam rises revealing baked lutfisk with cream sauce on top of a bed of smashed boiled potatoes and glazed carrots. My mouth waters at the sight of the large buttery roll at the edge of my plate.
“This is just like the meal Mother prepares at Yule,” I exclaim in delight.
The polar bear grins knowingly as he sits across from me, “I think everyone enjoys a meal like this at Yule if they are able to. I thought it would comfort you and remind you of your family.”
“Are you really going to dine with me?” I raise my eyebrow.
The polar bear laughs sharply, “I do eat normal human foods occasionally; it just does not always taste very good.”
CurseBreaker Page 6
