Shadow Frost (Shadow Frost Trilogy Book 1)

by Coco Ma

  Despite herself, Asterin smiled. “Deal.”

  When they arrived back at the cottage, everyone was too busy with various chores to bother asking how the search had gone. Rose and Eadric were out back in the garden gathering fresh herbs. Harry and Orion stood side by side at the kitchen counter, chopping potatoes and carrots for a soup. It was obvious whose pile of vegetables belonged to whom.

  “I’ll go and check on Eadric,” Luna said and hurried out the back entrance, leaving Asterin and Quinlan to loiter awkwardly in the kitchen. Neatly written recipes had been taped to the walls in a collage of yellowing parchment and cursive too far away for Asterin to make out clearly.

  Orion shot them a grin by way of greeting and waved his knife in the air. “Look at me! I could be a chef!”

  Harry rolled his eyes. “Sure you could. A bad one, maybe.” Orion pouted. “Oh, Asterin, could you boil a pot of water?” Grateful to be helping with something, she hurried over. Harry jerked his chin at the row of cupboards lining the wall. “The pots are in there—no, the one to the left, yes, that one, second shelf.”

  She grabbed the gigantic stock pot Harry pointed out and filled it in the sink before lugging it onto the stove. She glanced at the empty oven, wondering if Quinlan had been joking about the cake.

  Harry caught her looking and smacked his forehead with his knife-hand, much to Orion’s terror. “Oh, the cake! I completely forgot. Orion, come with me to the cellar, I need to find the ingredients. Asterin, keep an eye on the stove, will you?” With that, their host snatched Orion by the wrist and dragged him into the foyer, whereupon he opened a door that Asterin had assumed was a closet but appeared to lead into the gloom of a basement. “Be back in a minute!”

  The door slammed shut behind them.

  Asterin shrugged and rolled up her sleeves to wash her hands. She sifted through the drawers for a long wooden spoon and then held the handle between her teeth so she could attempt to tie an apron around her waist.

  Soft footfalls on the ceramic tiles approached from behind. Warmth washed over her as Quinlan’s hands slid teasingly down her bare forearms and captured her fumbling fingers, halting her struggle. “Let me help you with that,” he said into her ear, voice rough. His breath ghosted the nape of her neck, and it took every ounce of her utmost effort to repress a shudder.

  With a deep, slow inhale, she forced her fingers to relax and closed her eyes, letting him take over. His lips crested the shell of her ear and her entire body stiffened, heat pooling low in her gut. A mortified blush rose to her cheeks at the involuntary sound that escaped her, jaws clenching on the spoon handle still clamped in her mouth. He chuckled softly, knuckles brushing the small of her back as he worked. She didn’t know what to do with her hands, so she braced them on the edge of the counter and forced herself to exhale—albeit shakily.

  After a moment, she felt the telltale tug of the finished knot, but then Quinlan made a vague noise of dissatisfaction. “It’s not my best work. I’ll try again.”

  He’s playing with you, said that nasty little voice in her head. You’re just another Pippa. Another distraction.

  Asterin suddenly shoved herself away from him, shattering the moment, tearing free from the desire threatening to drag her under. She grabbed the spoon from her mouth and threw it onto the counter with a harsh clatter. “Water’s boiling,” she gritted out, even though only tiny bubbles lined the inside of the pot when she lifted the lid. She scooped up a handful of potatoes and flung them inside, hissing when water splashed across her skin. Not boiling yet, but still bloody hot.

  Quinlan was silent. And then, quietly, he asked, “Am I doing something wrong?”

  Before she could respond, Rose barged in through the back entrance clutching a bundle of herbs, Eadric and Luna on her tail. Eadric had a wicker basket swinging from his wrist. Rose took one glance into the kitchen and sighed. “Are you two flirting again?”

  Quinlan spun around to face her. Asterin couldn’t see his expression, but the image of his balled fists gnawed at her. “How about you stay out of this?” he snapped in a tone that had Eadric and Luna immediately retreating into the living room.

  Rose tilted her chin, assessing. “Someone’s being a little sensitive.”

  Quinlan scoffed. “You can’t be serious. When you were with Kane, if I so much as said a word—”

  Asterin felt the air crackle with tension as Rose froze, her knuckles bone-white around a sprig of rosemary.

  Quinlan bit his lip. “I should not have said that.”

  “Get out,” Rose said, voice clipped.

  He held his hands up in surrender. “Sorry.” With Rose’s murderous gaze pinned on his back, he fled into the foyer and through the living room door.

  The Queen of Eradore released a long-suffering sigh.

  Luna popped her head back into the kitchen. Eadric was nowhere to be seen. “Can I come in?”

  Rose pasted on a strained smile and began plucking herbs from the captain’s basket. “Yes, of course.”

  Luna joined Asterin by the stove and the three of them lapsed into a companionable silence, maneuvering around one another in harmony through the kitchen, the calming scent of sage and robust oregano pervading the air.

  “Can I throw these into the pot?” Rose asked, waving a handful of herbs at Asterin.

  She shrugged. “Beats me. Harry and Orion haven’t come out of the cellar yet.”

  Luna frowned. “Cellar? I thought it was a closet.” She yelped when the pot hissed. “Immortals, I hate cooking.”

  Asterin laughed. “Come on, Luna, it’s fun.”

  “Cooking is hardly fun.” Luna sniffed. “All you do is chop little things into bits and pieces. And then you make them hot.”

  “Would you rather eat everything raw, then?” Rose asked.

  “No, I’d rather have someone else do it for me.”

  “You’d rather have someone else eat raw food for you?”

  Luna whacked Rose’s arm with a wooden spoon.

  Rose picked up a rolling pin from inside one of the drawers. “I don’t want to fight you,” the queen warned, more serious than Asterin had ever seen her. “But I have a rolling pin and I’m not afraid to use it.”

  “A rolling pin against a measly spoon? That’s hardly fair!”

  Rose grinned. “Never said I would play fair.”

  The cellar door opened and Orion came staggering out, a jar of dark cocoa powder in his hands and his face flushed, Harry at his heels with a sack of flour swinging from over his shoulder.

  Asterin frowned. “Orion? Are you all right? You’re awfully red.” The last thing they needed was for him to come down with a fever.

  Her Guardian fanned himself. “Never been better.”

  Harry cocked his head at Rose and Luna, who were circling each other and throwing taunts, right on the brink of a vicious battle. He opened his mouth as if to inquire but ultimately decided against it. Instead, he hefted the flour into Orion’s arms, nearly knocking the jar of cocoa onto the ceramic floor. “Could you get started on the cake? I need to go and check the traps before it gets too dark. The recipe is taped to the wall.”

  “No problem.” Orion bustled over to the wall, squinting up at the recipes and tracing his finger down the parchment. He hesitated. “Wait, when it says ‘cup,’ do I use an actual mug or what?”

  Asterin sighed. “I’ll help him.”

  Harry shot her a grateful smile and shrugged on his coat before hoisting his monstrous crossbow off a hook in the foyer. “Thank you.”

  Asterin waved as he maneuvered himself and the crossbow out the door. Orion had dipped his finger into the cocoa jar. She smacked his hand away. “Stop that!” She scanned the recipe. “Where are we supposed to find eggs? Did you see any in the cellar?”

  Orion shook his head.

  Asterin cursed and dashed for the bay wi
ndows in the living room that overlooked the clearing and the path leading into the forest beyond. Her eyes snagged on Harry halfway down the path, and she was just about to run out the door to call him back when something made her pause.

  The light from the torches in the clearing gleamed off the pine boughs, astir with night wind, but she could have sworn that the swaying grass and primrose stalks stilled when Harry walked past. Her eyes narrowed at his retreating figure, a sudden unease settling into the pit of her stomach. The torches flickered, the flames bending away from the hunter as if to escape from their wicks. It was something about the way the shadows seemed to follow him, to cling to him like fog.

  Then he ducked out of the clearing beneath the branched archway, and only when the hunter had vanished into the forest did Asterin realize that she had forgotten to ask about the eggs.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Rose sighed and tucked the cream-white invitation back into its envelope, the crimson wax seal of the Axarian crest—two swords crossed behind a wolf head—brushing her fingertips as she slid the card into the inner pocket of her jacket. She left her room, Eadric’s snores rumbling next door, and padded downstairs. Harry and Orion were puttering about the kitchen preparing breakfast. Quinlan’s team had left before dawn. Orion was teaching Harry the words and the melody to the Axarian anthem in a voice that had both her and Harry cringing on the high notes. She slipped into the dining room and out the back door undetected, past the horses grazing in the clearing and behind the barn, where she had noticed a large flat rock the morning her team had first set out to search for the demon.

  Tomorrow would mark the end of their first week demon hunting, and while Harry had been nothing but a wonderful host, Rose couldn’t help but wish the beast would show up already—for Asterin’s sake, if nothing else. With each passing day and the demon still nowhere to be found, the princess’s mood grew increasingly volatile. And on top of that, she was giving poor, smitten Quinlan the cold shoulder, the Immortals knew why. Asterin was a bomb ticking down, and Rose did not want to be anywhere near her when she blew.

  Settling onto the flat rock, Rose took out the Fairfest invitation again and wondered if she should accept. All she had to do was burn the seal, which would trigger a charm on the wax to confirm her attendance.

  The invitation had arrived just days shy of her and Quinlan’s departure for Axaria, but of course, newly crowned, she had expected it. The reigning monarchs of the kingdoms were always invited, along with scores of favored highborns from around the world. Invitation was exclusive—granted only by Queen Priscilla herself.

  Rose remembered tiptoeing out of bed and eavesdropping on her parents’ conversations—as all children do, though she doubted most children had to sneak through four parlors, two guardrooms, and a library to reach their bedchamber. The Eradorian palace didn’t have hallways or corridors. Only rooms leading into more rooms, forcing guests to either learn the lay of the land or get lost—literally. Rose didn’t have anywhere near the number of fingers needed to count how many ghosts supposedly roamed the palace, still searching for a way out.

  On that particular night, after the arrival of the invitation, her father had urged Queen Lillian to make the long trip to Axaria. At the time, all Rose knew of the Fairfest Ball was that even the most lavish of parties paled in comparison. So naturally, she hadn’t understood why her mother refused—and refused again and again, year after year.

  If she were being honest with herself, she still didn’t understand. Of course she could speculate—an issue of diplomacy or even something on a more personal level. But just like Rose had never found out why in hell her mother had named her Orozalia of all things, perhaps there simply wasn’t a clear answer. Yet now, with her mother dead and that horrible vision of her kingdom falling to pieces so fresh in her mind, would it be wise to throw away the perfect opportunity to establish new alliances? To offer herself up to the other royals so that, in time, she could collect her dues?

  Don’t forget that it will be your first public appearance, she thought to herself. Attending would make a statement, but so would not attending. Either way, her choice would impact how the world saw her—and though she didn’t want to care, she had to. She was the Queen of Eradore.

  Lux trotted over to her, black eyes shining, and lay down beside the rock to sleep. Eyes closed and bathing in the sun, Rose couldn’t help but absurdly wish that they could switch places. She slipped off the rock and lowered herself beside the stallion, stretching her limbs out. She breathed a lungful of the unmistakable scent of grass and soil and she sighed, a balmy breeze tickling her skin as it whispered across the clearing. Her eyes swept over what her mother used to call a seafoam sky—a muted screen of ocean blue peeping behind a churning, labyrinthine array of eggshell-white wisps, the gaps and seams constantly ebbing, shifting, devouring.

  She hadn’t slept well last night, only furthering the weariness of hunting through miles and miles of forest for the demon, and so it was with relief that her eyelids grew heavy.

  Just a quick nap, she thought, letting the wind lap at her, tug her along the currents of slumber, and finally engulf her.

  She must have napped for hours, because when she woke up, the light had dulled to an afternoon gloom beneath a thick blanket of dolorous clouds. Lux had abandoned her, opting to socialize with the other horses across the clearing instead. Their heads suddenly lifted, upper lips curled and tails clamping down.

  Rose’s nose twitched, catching an all-too-familiar scent from a childhood spent with Quinlan. Not seconds later, angry plumes of smoke billowed from the cottage, bright topaz flames crawling along the exterior. She scrambled up and sprinted for the cottage, nearly colliding into a rampaging Buttercup when the mare thundered past her toward the other horses, who were gathering as far away from the cottage as they could—except for Lux, who just whinnied for Rose to run faster.

  She prepared to attack the flames from the outside, but then she heard the frantic shouts from within the cottage. Orion isn’t a water-wielder, she realized.

  Rose kicked down the back door and hurtled through the dining room. Smoke seeped from beneath the closed kitchen door, so she raced into the living room, which connected through the foyer to the kitchen. There was a curse from above and a half-awake Eadric toppled down the staircase wearing nothing but tight black boxer briefs. Rose burst into the kitchen with her affinity stone brandished and the captain at her heels, and shouted, “Aveau explosa!”

  Geysers of water erupted from the floor, arcing across the counters and cupboards and surging right through the blazing remains of the oven, extinguishing the inferno in one strike. Rose thrust her hand up and the water glided along the walls and ceiling, penetrating every crevice, quenching every ember and flooding out the other side to douse whatever flames that had escaped her.

  Panting, she turned to find Orion and Harry on the porch behind Eadric, gusts of wind blowing through the open front door. Harry looked shaken and Orion guilty, but they were both unharmed.

  “What in hell happened?” Rose demanded, arm waving at the grotesque remains of the oven, the metal half-melted and twisted.

  “We were baking bread,” Orion said meekly.

  Rose stared at him. She felt like she was scolding the twins back home—though, frankly, with all their mad experimenting, a fire would have been nothing. “Does baking bread involve burning down the house?”

  Harry scratched the back of his head. “We got a little distracted.”

  A groan clawed its way out of her throat. “Can’t you two make out and keep an eye on the oven at the same time?”

  “What?” Orion spluttered. “W-we don’t—we haven’t … we just—”

  Eadric strode over to him and squeezed his shoulder, forcing the Guardian to look him in the eye. “All of us are here to support you, Orion, so please don’t ever feel like you need to hide anything from us.”

 
Orion flapped his hands frenetically, a scarlet flush creeping up his neck. “Thank you, but—”

  “No buts,” Eadric interrupted. “Unconditional love is all we have for you.” Then the captain narrowed his eyes onto Harry. Rose couldn’t help but take notice how intimidating he looked, even—no, especially in just his boxers, biceps rippling as he shook a finger in their host’s bewildered face. “But you. If you hurt him in any way, shape, or form, know that I will hunt you to the ends of the earth and rip your organs to shreds. Understood?”

  Harry gulped. “Very much so.”

  Rose sighed, eyeing the scorched walls, clutching her affinity stone. “I can make repairs to the house itself, but you’re out of luck with the oven.”

  Orion winced. “Which means no cake for Asterin.”

  Eadric chuckled and clapped Orion on the back. “I’m not taking back what I said about unconditional love, but …” His face suddenly went gravely serious. “That’s on you, mate.”

  Orion looked to Rose in desperation, but she mirrored Eadric’s expression, thinking again of the princess’s inevitable explosion. “Sorry, Orion. Good luck.”

  As a last-ditch effort, Orion turned to Harry, but the hunter had already hightailed it out the back door.

  Harry had a routine. Every evening, just after sunset, he would leave the cottage to go and hunt. And since the first day of their arrival, Rose noticed that Asterin had a routine, too. Every evening, the princess saw him to the door, but she had yet to return from her own demon hunt tonight with Luna and Quinlan, so Rose took it upon herself to substitute.

  She leaned against the staircase banister in the foyer. As promised, she had restored the walls and ceiling with fresh lumber by melding it to the damaged wood. She’d even managed to replace the cupboards, but the plates—or rather, puddles—within were beyond saving.

  “Six strangers stuffed under your roof,” she mused. “We must be driving you crazy.”

  Harry’s lips quirked. “I rather enjoy the company,” he said, reaching for his coat. “It certainly gets lonely sometimes.”