Destiny

by Rachelle Mills et al.

  As Elle looked at the old man, she felt confident that maybe he would be the one to listen to her. He looked to hold authority. “My name is Elle Darrow. I don’t know why I’m here. Last night, someone tried to kill me, and today, I woke up in a strange place.” Pausing, Elle thought of anything else she may want to add. “So I want to go home.” Her words were short, sweet, and yet directly to the point.

  “Your name is Evangeline. Why is it you go by Elle?” the old man inquired, raising a brow to look at her.

  “It’s my nickname.”

  “Why do you possess one?”

  “Why do you care?” Elle shot back.

  As Khione sent her a horrified glance, Elle rolled her eyes, deciding to play along with the old man. “When I was in preschool, I couldn’t spell Evangeline because I could only remember the letter L,” Elle explained before realizing she didn’t really owe these people an explanation on anything. “My dad thought it was cute, so the nickname stuck.”

  The old man nodded thoughtfully.

  “Oh, I see. E-L-L-E and not just after the letter.” Khione nodded in understanding. “Clever.”

  Elle had no idea what to make of that remark, so she ignored her. In her opinion, the gorgeous girl resembled an oversized talking Barbie doll, winter edition. Elle stepped forward, releasing a deep breath. “I really, really want to go home. So can I get a ride or something?”

  “You are home, child,” the old man answered matter-of-factly. “Due to last night’s incident, it has been decided that you shall remain in my kingdom for the duration of your engagement.”

  Incident? Was that what he called attempted murder?

  Elle stared at the old man with a blank expression. “I’m, uh, sorry, but you must be mistaken…” She trailed off. “I’m not engaged. I’m not dating anyone!” It was only as Elle yelped the last bit that she realized her sad reality. She hadn’t properly kissed someone in her now twenty-one years. As Elle’s eyes widened, she realized something else important. “It’s my birthday today!”

  Kidnapped on her birthday. That was an interesting way to ring in her twenty-first. Elle’s original plans were going out with Lucy to see the new Chris Hemsworth movie playing at the cinema and then eating an overabundance of tacos at El Chewy. Knowing her grandmother, Grace would probably prepare her favorite vanilla cake with an almond-butter frosting for her and Lucy to eat when they returned from the movies.

  The old man smiled. “Yes, child, your twenty-first. You truly cannot comprehend how long we have been searching for you to ready you for this day. To find you on the night before your twenty-first birthday as well, how splendid!”

  “My birthday?” Elle frowned, feeling perplexed. Why would these people care about the anniversary of the day she was born?

  “Yes. Today, January the twenty-first, is the day we shall announce your engagement at your welcoming ball. Now, I must insist you allow Khione to escort you to handmaidens to clean you,” the old man said, nodding his head at his daughter.

  Stepping forward, Elle ignored all the strange white-clad guards that suddenly reacted. They pointed sharp, crystallized swords at her the moment she stepped forward. It was apparently frowned upon to approach the man on the throne. Elle shook her head from side to side. “Seriously, you really have the wrong girl. Not to mention, I have school! There are classes I can’t miss, and I’ll be fired from my two jobs if I miss my shifts!”

  “The future Queen of Winter to work?” The old man guffawed, shaking his head in amusement. He chuckled harder, as if this was the funniest thing he had heard in a very long time. His words only caused the guards to join in on his laughter as well as Khione. Elle stared around her, perplexed at the rudeness. She didn’t grasp what appeared to be the joke to everyone else. They continued to laugh as if this was the most amusing thing they had ever heard.

  “Hey!” Elle suddenly barked, her eyes angry. “I don’t know who the hell you think you are, buddy, but you got the wrong girl. I’m not getting married!”

  The old man suddenly stood from his throne, casting a rather angry glare in Elle’s direction. “Do not test my patience, child. King Boreas of the North Wind does not make mistakes. You are Evangeline Darrow, descended from the Fire Kingdom. It is your birthright to marry the heir to the throne of winter!”

  Elle threw up her arms in exasperation. Her point was just made from his strange rant. He had only gotten half of her title right. He most likely had the wrong Evangeline Darrow in front of him, and this was all a large misunderstanding.

  “Well, unfortunately for you, pal, I’m not descended from any stupid fire kingdom. For goodness sake, my grandparents have a rundown farm!” she exclaimed hotly. In her opinion, Elle’s farming background didn’t exactly spell out royalty. Betrothed? Future marriage? Heirs? This was insane. It felt like a nightmare that wouldn’t end. Elle was a no one. She wasn’t a storybook cliché where an ordinary girl discovers she’s extraordinary. Instead of being one, Elle only wished to read about them with her free time. She didn’t care to be comparable to heroines in her books.

  “Hold thy tongue for when you speak or thy tongue shall be held for you,” a cold voice sneered. A tall man with a broad chest and pale blond hair entered the room. He was as pale as Khione and Boreas, no color to his skin. His beak-like nose was held high in disgust. The man cast Elle a furious glance. “Father, please do not allow the mortal to treat you with disrespect!”

  “’Tis all right, Zetes. The child is unaware of our customs,” Boreas said, his gaze unwavering from Elle. He took a deep breath. “You are betrothed to my heir, Jack Frost, the God of Winter. ’Tis final.” He moved his way back to his throne while Elle struggled to find her voice.

  Jack Frost? The mythical character that was only supposed to exist when individuals spoke of cold weather? Rubbing her eyes wearily, Elle sighed before holding her palms up. “Look, I’m sorry—sort of—to come off as disrespectful, but I’m really, really, really not the girl you’re looking for. I’m not descended from anything! Jack Frost is a murderous nutter-butter who tried to kill me last night. If my friend hadn’t come, he would’ve gotten away with it, too!”

  This statement seemed bizarre for Elle to even say aloud. Still, Boreas nodded, as if knowing all this to be true. “I suppose it is in my favor Lord Apollo watched over you for so long to keep you protected,” he said. “Still, child, you shall be married to Jack Frost.”

  “But I don’t wanna be married to Jack Frost,” said Elle, her words coming across as a whiner wail. “Does that not matter to you?”

  “Not particularly, no,” Boreas admitted, chuckling once more, as if Elle’s pleas amused him. “You have been betrothed for centuries little one. ’Tis final.”

  “Did I hear my name called?” a musical voice called from right beside Elle. Her face paled instantly. Slowly, and almost unwillingly, she swiveled her head up to stare into the eyes of the young man who seemed to appear out of thin air.

  His frosted white hair was rather messy and his deep grey eyes watched Elle with amusement. All she could do was stare back at the young man with paralyzing fear. This was the same handsome man who tried to kill her just the night before. All Elle could do was gape and try not to tremble with nerves. Her hands shook as her bottom lip quivered.

  The man watched for a long moment before leaning in close with his pale face. “Boo.”

  In sudden fear, Elle threw herself behind the nearby Khione to shield herself from the young man’s view. All the while, Jack started to chuckle, as if he found Elle’s fear the funniest thing. Elle couldn’t help but feel afraid. The monster had planned to stab her in the heart with a dagger just the night before. He didn’t care she was an innocent person who had never done him wrong. He simply wanted her dead.

  “Get away from me!” Elle screeched, holding onto Khione to keep her placed in front of her. There was no way she was going to stand beside that monster.

  Breathing hard, Elle didn’t dare blink in case Jack Frost t
ook the opportunity to once again appear before her very eyes in half a second.

  “Look at that, Father. I see Jack and his fiancée have already met,” the tall man named Zetes mused. Sarcasm saturated his comment.

  “At least I left a lasting impression.” Jack smirked, watching Elle with a certain amusement. He rolled his eyes. “I have not the faintest idea why I was relegated to longer work hours. She is alive, is she not, Father?” he asked in annoyance, his amusement to Elle now turning into a glare. She could not help but notice none of these individuals spoke using contractions for the most part. They seemed intent on only using clear and concise language with their lovely foreign accents. Jack Frost’s voice in particular was so very velvety and smooth, it was practically musical.

  All Elle could do was continue hiding behind Khione and her beautiful dress. Just because the young man was beautiful did not mean she was not terrified of him. “With no thanks to you, my son,” said Boreas crossly, sending a harsh glare toward the young man. “If not for Lord Apollo, the sole heir of the fire kingdom would have perished. Tell me, Jack, how would that have benefited this kingdom?”

  Jack leaned his head to peer around his sister to see Elle quivering behind her. “I do not know nor care.” He sighed happily. “I do not want a bride, as I have stated many times before. Send her back to the farm with the pigs or let me finish what I started last night.”

  Boreas stared at the young man in surprise. “You wish to so easily cast aside the gem of the fire coven?”

  Jack spared Elle another quick glance, seeming to inspect her from head to foot. Soon, he rolled his muscular shoulders. “She does not resemble a gem to me. She’s a worthless mutt, just like Matthew was.”

  That one word ignited hatred in Elle. She could feel he was using the word in a derogatory sense. She suddenly saw red. Her father had been her very best friend growing up. The amount of time and care he put into raising his only daughter was overwhelming. He was a wonderful dad, and illness took him far too young. Matthew Darrow was the type of father who would give the shirt off his back to provide for his child.

  Bravery filled Elle as she suddenly realized she wanted to punch the smirk right off Jack’s pale face. “Hey!” she barked, removing herself from Khione. She stalked forward and roughly shoved Jack with force. He did not stumble, which made her feel touching him was pointless.

  “You. Do. Not. Speak. Of. My. Dad!” she snarled vehemently, shoving him once more. This time, Jack caught her hands and held them in a rough grasp.

  “What are you going to do, little one?” Jack questioned, leaning his head down as he glared. He pulled Elle in close to him, his grip on her wrists hurting from how hard he was clenching them. “Matthew was a mutt. A pathetic, mortal mutt that was only good for reproducing. You, you are the filthy little creature spawned of fire and humanity. You are no better than he was.” His arms morphed into pure ice. They glowered at one another. Elle couldn’t feel how cold Jack was; she was too furious to even notice the arms of sheer ice tightly holding her. The ice was not affecting her. Strangely, Jack seemed surprised his icy hands had no impact or ability to harm her skin. The cruelty from his eyes vanished as he watched his hand holding Elle’s forearm. Curiosity set across his face.

  “That is enough!” Boreas bellowed, slapping the end of his scepter on the hard ground. His booming voice echoed. His words meant nothing to Elle and Jack; they both held their own steady glares as Elle stepped forward. She ignored the slightly chilly feeling on her arm to lean in closer. She was so close she could take in Jack’s strange scent of pine with a hint of mint.

  Jack released his hold but held a steady glare on Elle. She glared right back, holding no care that this man before her was some strange supernatural being. She held no fear for herself, only anger for her late father’s memory.

  “My father was a better man than you could ever hope of being,” she said angrily, stepping back.

  Jack did not bat an eyelash as he watched Elle. His eyes were void of emotion as he smirked. “Why would I wish to be like that moronic fool? He is dead…”

  He didn’t get to finish his sentence before Elle lunged forward and whacked him across the face. Her mighty hit was the product of a punch and smack combined. Elle didn’t know how to punch, but she put one powerful whack behind it. Unfortunately, she hurt herself more than she hurt Jack. His head did not swivel; his glare only intensified.

  Multiple gasps took over the room. Elle was about to lunge once more before strong arms wrapped around her waist to pull her back. She didn’t know who held her, but she also didn’t care.

  “Lemme at him!” Elle snarled, kicking out as someone held her in place. She was ignoring the pain her most likely broken hand held. “I’ll get even for him sinking a knife into my arm!” She struggled to remove herself from the person who pulled her away from Jack Frost. Her fear was gone; she now only wanted payback.

  “You really believe you can take on a god?” Jack sneered, a hard glare etched onto his handsome face. Her hit hadn’t left one mark on his impossibly human face.

  Elle laughed coldly as she struggled to reach him. “There’s only one God, and I guarantee he doesn’t look like a dork gearing up for Comic Con!” she snarled back, uncaring even as Jack morphed into his all icy persona. He looked to be a human carved from ice. If looks could kill, Elle would have dropped dead from the murderous glare etched on the icy man’s face.

  “Do you have any idea how easy it would be for me to snap your neck like a twig?” he asked, his velvety voice laced with venom.

  Elle was uncaring of the threat. She was too fired up. “What’s the matter? You’re not attacking me now. Are you only tough when you have a dagger on you? Bring it on now that I’m ready, you talking Popsicle!”

  Loud laughter began to echo throughout the throne room. The person holding Elle seemed to have gotten a real kick out of her words. Elle felt herself being pulled up against someone’s chest as a head leaned in near her ear. “To think I thought if I did not get here before you awoke, you’d be struggling,” the voice whispered so close, it tickled Elle’s ear.

  Elle jumped, realizing who the voice belonged to. She turned and engulfed Aiden in a full-fledged hug. She was safe. That much she felt was certain. Boreas, Khione, and Jack Frost did not matter anymore. “Get me out of here,” Elle whispered, shivering.

  Aiden would get her out of here, and then this entire thing would all just be some horrid nightmare.

  Aiden watched Elle sadly, shaking his blond head. “I cannot do that, Elle. You’re engaged to Jack.”

  “N-no I’m not,” Elle said weakly, shaking her head adamantly. “I never said yes! I never agreed to marry anyone!” she whispered hoarsely, trembling due to her fear. She couldn’t possibly be expected to marry someone without giving her consent. “Why can’t I go home?”

  “That’s the thing, Elle,” said Aiden, using the pad of his thumb to dry the tears falling down her cheek. “You are home.”

  Chapter Nine

  Aiden did not speak another word in front of the others. He made sure to escort Elle to the strangely large bedroom she woke up in before saying anything else to her. Elle had said nothing as Aiden dragged her around the large place that put a hotel to shame.

  What was there to possibly say when you woke up engaged to Jack Frost? What did you say when he tried to kill you just the night before? Elle couldn’t think of anything to say aloud. Her own thoughts sounded insane. Just thinking the words engaged-to-Jack Frost made her feel like a mental case. Maybe she was. Perhaps all of her schoolwork finally threw her off the deep end. Elle felt she even sounded crazier than the homeless woman she often saw at Walmart who spoke to the loaves in the bread aisle. King Boreas told Aiden to have Elle back for the ball at dusk. That made as much sense to Elle as everything else as she was being told. A ball? Who still held those?

  This was all making the crazy-bread-talker at Walmart become the epitome of sanity.

  It was only as
Aiden shut the large doors behind him that Elle threw her hands in the air.

  “I keep thinking this is all some crazy dream and that I’m going to wake up soon.” She walked closer to Aiden. Her eyes went wide as she struggled to really find the words to express her extreme confusion. “The problem is no amount of pinching is waking me up!” she yelled, waving her arms around in exasperation.

  Aiden looked about ready to respond before Elle cut him off.

  “Just yesterday, I was grabbing dinner with Lucy! Today, I’m in the winter version of Hell. I must have gone insane. I’m totally off my rocker because I can’t possibly be living this situation!” she nearly shrieked, trying very hard to remain calm. Panicking was never good in any situation, but Elle couldn’t exactly help herself. This was the perfect time to panic.

  Aiden watched Elle awkwardly, opening and closing his mouth a few times. His brows furrowed before he finally spoke. “How much do you remember about the stories your dad would share, Elle?”

  What did that have to do with anything? It was Elle’s lost look that caused Aiden to wave his hand airily. There was obviously a reason he wanted her to answer. Elle recalled her father was a huge lover of stories. He loved to share the histories of Greek, Egyptian, Chinese, and Norse mythologies the most. Second from that was his love for astronomy? Elle frowned. “He told me stories of myths, Aiden. He told stories of gods, goddesses, and monsters that plagued innocent people as well as the people of mythology. His last two years of fighting cancer, he was so strung out on chemo he was believing all his stories were true.”

  Elle shrugged, her sadness weighing down her shoulders. It was heartbreaking watching her father deteriorate both health and mental wise. Matthew would rant most the time while going in and out of consciousness, but the hospice care claimed he didn’t even know what he was saying anymore. They said he was barely present because of the cancer raging inside of him. Elle sat and listened to what her father had to say in his final days, but she didn’t take any of it at face value. The monsters and magic he had described reminded Elle of the days she thought a monster lived under her bed. It was all make believe.