The Frozen Beginning (Elemental Diamond Book 1)

by Daphne Robynson

  “Glacier, you can’t keep seeing that boy! It’s bad enough that you break the law by going under the damn wall! But he is a fire elemental.” His angry voice sets her on edge.

  Her father was never a violent person. Not once in her life has he ever lashed out at her physically. But sometimes the way he speaks when he’s angry frightens her just the same.

  “I know dad…but he’s my only friend–”

  “He is not your friend! He is not one of us!”

  “I-I know that dad, but he wouldn’t hurt me–”

  Kellen crosses his arms in the air, “I’ve had absolutely enough of this! From here on, you are forbidden from swimming under that damn wall again. Do you understand me?” Her father’s harsh gaze and menacing snarl had her blanching away from him.

  Forbidden? But he is her only friend…

  Her eyes burn with unshed tears, and her heart thumps painfully against her ribs, “But dad, that’s not–”

  “This discussion is over.”

  ++

  That was one of her best and worst memories of her father. He wasn’t always like that, but he was always worried about her safety.

  “I know how to dance.”

  Glacier looks over to see Lien smile, “Then I would be honoured if I could share a dance later on.”

  “You’ll be attending?”

  He nods his head, “My wife and I will be attending.”

  “You have a wife?” Glacier is surprised. Lien nods his head once more. “What’s her name?”

  “Darmila.” The driver’s voice is as proud as his smirk, as he recalls his wife. “She is very beautiful. Stubborn as a nail as well.”

  Glacier laughs at his description of his other half. She notices how good it feels to laugh.

  After weaving their way through the traffic, Lien drops her off at the entrance of the Persia Hotel. Waiting outside the doors is an enormous group of photographers.

  Most of them wear eye cameras; others have tall sticks with small black devices on top.

  Glacier can hear Lien curse under his breath before she looks back at him with fright written across her features.

  That’s a lot of people.

  Must be because of what happened to Care…

  “Wait in the car.” With those parting words, Lien exits the car and presses something in his hand that locks all the doors.

  He makes his way towards the Persia, pushing through the disgustingly encroaching crowds of nosey photographers.

  Once they realize he is of no importance, they rear back on the car, swarming it like insects.

  Glacier slinks down in her seat, trying to move out of sight. Glacier sits on the floor below the glove box, where her body can squeeze perfectly.

  For once, I’m glad I’m small.

  It’s not long after Glacier crouches down, that all the doors simultaneously unlock.

  A rush of panic settles inside her at the thought of the vultures attacking her with their flashes and loud voices. But when her door opens, her nerves scatter as her eyes land on Lien, accompanied by four other guards.

  Lien takes Glacier’s hand and pulls her from the car. The hotel guards push the press back, keeping the crowd at a safe distance.

  The shouts and hollers bombard Glacier’s ears like an unwelcome alarm, allowing her to realize how quiet the Hover is.

  But their questions are not what Glacier expected.

  “Are you having a secret affair with Fielder Vinson?”

  “How long have you been seeing each other?”

  “Are you in a relationship together?”

  Their questions stun her silent. Glacier almost forgets to move. Lien tugs her closer to the hotel entrance as their questions bang around in her head.

  How did they find out that I knew Fielder before the tournament? Is it possible?

  Glacier shakes her head.

  They couldn’t possibly discover that. It’s not on any record.

  Once they pass the enormous white pillars, the crystal doors close behind them. The overwhelming sound of the elementals waiting outside is lost.

  There is loud bustling around the lobby. The members from every team are all ushered in by their drivers like Glacier had been. Everyone is tense, eyeing each other with trepidation. Glacier notices Gamble by the top steps searching around the room with a dark scowl.

  Lien leads her to the elevator where the four other guards disperse back to their duties.

  “Go upstairs, straight to your room. In about ten minutes your beauticians will be up. That gives you ten minutes to change into your dress.”

  Still dazzles from the entrance, Glacier nods her head slowly, before retreating to the elevator. After she presses the call button, the door opens immediately, and Glacier steps in.

  Her mind is as numb as her body. Her finger presses the level forty-five, and the doors close inaudibly. The elevator does not stop until it reaches her floor, and Glacier exits hurriedly. When she approaches her room, her Passkey glows on her wrist, and the door collapses open.

  TEN

  THE WINTER GALA

  Glacier exits the elevator with her beauticians still fussing around her.

  She stands still as the two of them bicker about her hair. Her expression is impassive. She has already grown to hate this part of the competition the most.

  “Her hair isn’t staying straight,” the plump one complains. Her thin, long brown hair flows down her spine, her seemingly flawless face heavy with makeup. She had introduced herself as Geri.

  The other woman, Wendelin, has very long pointed nails, and dark brown hair reaching mid-back. Her face is very thin and angular with light olive eyes, as opposed to Geri whose face is rounder with bright emeralds. The two women are absolute opposites.

  “There seems to be no controlling it, Geri. Just leave it be. I’m more worried her scar will show. Brush some of her hair over it…”

  Geri does as Wendelin instructs, brushing a hunk of hair forward from the side, covering her eye, and more effectively the scar above her brow.

  Even with their expertise, they still cannot manage to conceal the ugliness of it. It creates a harsh aspect to her pretty face that Glacier knows would frighten children.

  It’s not like I haven’t looked like a freak all my life.

  Her dress, although elegant, has a personally distasteful amount of her pale flesh on display. The deep blue satin hugs her every curve like a tight sheet, with a short dip down her chest. The silver diamond-encrusted straps travel over her shoulders and crisscross against her nude back, where they then lead down the rear of her dress and splay out into a shower of smaller diamonds until they reach the hem. The hem this time does not swish on the floor in a gathers heap, but instead brushes the floor in a gentle caress. Her heals are sized to a comfortable height, but Glacier knows that at some point during the evening, she will be stumbling around in them.

  She ignores her somewhat straight hair and looks directly at the closed doors of the elevator.

  In her barely distinguishable reflection, Glacier sees a ghostly girl with voluminous straight hair, and an unfeeling glint in her smoky-eyed stare.

  The doors open as Geri and Wendelin continue to fuss over little things. Glacier gazes around the lobby. It is similar to when she had entered the hotel earlier.

  The volunteers from each team squander around the lobby, fixing any last-minute touch ups and altercations. Glacier notices Gamble and Porter off to the side of the crowd, speaking to each other in hushed voices.

  Bronze is helping Isaac with his bow tie, Aleena is standing close to Tric with a bored expression on her face, and seemingly all the competitors from the Pyre team have their heads hung sullenly. Glacier notices Melana running around, talking to various elementals loitering in the lobby.

  “Come along, Miss Wardgrave. We must locate Mr Grimond and have you arriving on time.”

  Wendelin nods her head in agreement before
adding, “Punctuality is propriety.”

  Glacier hadn’t heard that saying before, but she has come to discover that earth elementals have a higher regard to etiquette than those from her region.

  She nods her head in reply, not entirely listening. Her mouth remains quiet despite her mind rolling with a million thoughts.

  Geri rests her thick fingers on Glacier’s shoulder blade to provide direction. At the same time, Wendelin lifts Glacier’s hand straight out in front, holding it in line with her chest, and they both guide her down the steps

  The way the two women manoeuvre her makes her feel like a trophy. All those who wait in the lobby turn to drink in her appearance.

  Glacier glances over to where her team stands at the reception.

  Keena and Neena are wearing near-identical dresses, their straps being the only difference. Keena has bold straps over her shoulder, whilst Neena has none.

  Keena seems to be feeling much better now. Her short hair is pinned to swoop to one side, also consistent with Neena’s lengthy side-swept hair.

  Branch is watching Glacier with a smile in his eyes and a knowing smirk on his lips. His blue suit fits snug and sleek, and his hair is unchanging. Glacier returns his look with a small smile in his direction, before continuing to look around.

  Then, like magnets, her eyes find his.

  Boy, he does look good in that suit…

  Fielder stands at the bottom of the steps close to the wall, watching her like a hawk does their prey. His dark, burnt-orange suit fits snug around his torso and biceps. Beneath it is a crispy white button-down, with taut black slacks and matching tie. His hair is naturally waved, a few locks dancing playfully over his eyebrow where his thin white scar sits. His eyes rapidly morph from a dull orange to a blazing fire when he spots her.

  Glacier nearly stumbles down the steps from the deep look in his eye. She is grateful that Wendelin has a tight hold on her wrist.

  “Do be careful, won’t you? We can’t have you ruining this dress; it will surely cost more than everything you own.”

  The remembrance of her old house bombards her like a shuttle train, at full-force. Wendelin’s demeaning words strike like hot water, cremating her on the inside.

  I’m valueless. Nothing I haven’t already heard before.

  Her head now lowered, Glacier watches her footsteps intently. Her toes peep from her shoes beneath the hem of satin that sways around her ankles.

  The beauticians drop their hands from her body, and instruct her to wait at the steps whilst they have the receptionist call Lien.

  Glacier watches their retreat, both bickering to one another about something insignificant.

  “You look… breathtaking.”

  Hearing Fielder’s deep voice behind her sends pleasant tingles down her spine, following all the way down to her toes.

  Glacier spins, generating an aching squeak as her heels gyrate on the tiles. Now up close, his eyes have a significantly higher magnetism. His smell is boldly intense, like smoky wood. Glacier can feel herself rapidly drowning in it.

  “Thanks,” she stutters out, her cheeks blooming an embarrassed red.

  Fielder steps towards her, closing the distance the staircase barred.

  “Save me a dance tonight.” He leans in to whisper.

  Glacier nods her head shyly. A loud cough from behind has her turning back to find both Geri and Wendelin standing with their hands on their hips. “We have located Mr Grimond.”

  Wendelin’s sour face suggests her disapproval. Geri has a dazed look in her eyes.

  “Come along, Miss Wardgrave.” Wendelin thrusts her hand out for Glacier’s, a nasty scowl turning her lip as she eyes Fielder with distaste. Glacier looks back to Fielder with pleading eyes.

  Please don’t make me go with them.

  He shakes his head and smiles his breathtaking smile, flashing a perfect set of pearl white teeth, “I’ll see you there, Glace.”

  She nods her head numbly, her mind rolling.

  Glace…

  Her heart thuds powerfully against her rib cage. Glacier’s eyes absorb his motions as he strides off, towards his gathered teammates. Geri and Wendelin seize each of her hands, tugging her towards the lobby doors.

  “Don’t be expecting anything to come from that, my darling.”

  Her eyes flicker to Wendelin with surprise. She feigns innocence. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  The older woman turns to shoot her a look that has her recoiling. “Be smart, girl. After this competition, you will never see him again.”

  The realization of what Wendelin says strikes her roughly.

  What am I doing? We can't see each other once the tournament is over. Why am I torturing myself?

  Through the mist of her thoughts, Glacier already knew the answer.

  He was my only friend…

  ~

  Glacier leans back against the soft black leather, the thundering roars of the photographers and flashing lights echoing just outside the car door.

  “Glacier…” She looks up to Lien, sitting in the driver’s seat. The Hover they sit in is stretched and shiny, with an opaque sapphire paint.

  Glacier hums her acknowledgement, but her mind is still stuck.

  ‘After this competition, you will never see him again…’

  “I can’t hold up the entrance any longer. You need to go inside.” The grim contour of his face reflects his pity, pushing her towards the door.

  “Sorry.” Glacier reaches out to press the button to open the door, but her fingers freeze when they lightly touch it.

  There are so many people out there…

  “Just keep your head up, and shoulders back.” She glances back when she hears Lien speak again, “You can do this.”

  Glacier nods her head in acknowledgement.

  I can do this.

  She turns back to the door, clenching her fingers into a tight fist.

  I can do this.

  “I will see you later on. I need to go and pick up my wife.” Glacier nods her head.

  She presses the button for the door. It opens upwards, a quite whooshing sound following. The photographers refocus on her entrance, as Glacier swings her legs from the Hover.

  She plants her feet on the raven carpet that leads to the large white-pillared capital.

  A small hovering device similar to the one from the introductions flies around her, projecting the recording of her leaving the Hover onto the wall above the entrance like a presentation.

  The barrier between the carpet and the photographers is a clear glass. There are thin strings leading to various objects floating in the air, almost unseen.

  Some strings have small speakers tied to the top. Some have lanterns filled with small flames. Others have unblemished bowls of clear water. The remaining are ovals of spinning dirt, similar to the motions of a wheel.

  Glacier keeps her head held high, and ignores the feverishly blinking lights as she walks speedily towards the entrance.

  “Freak!”

  Turning to where she heard the voice, all Glacier finds is the continuous flashing of the paparazzi. She turns to continue down her path, her shoulders tense.

  “Mutant!”

  Glacier flinches away from the same voice, looking out to the crowd with flooding eyes.

  “Don’t call me that.” Her voice is barely above a whisper, but the recording hover device seems to have a microphone attached. Her words propel from speakers like a hushed yell.

  “You’re a mutant, admit it!”

  Mutant. Mutant. Mutant!

  Small tears drip onto her cheeks, and her breath stutters.

  ‘What is she?’

  ‘She’s what you call a hybrid, boys…’

  ‘Freak!’

  ‘Mutant!’

  ‘Admit it!’

  No… Stop calling me that!

  Her breathing is short and shallow. Her skin heats embarrassingly as the kn
owledge of being deeply detested buries itself in her chest.

  Make them stop saying that!

  A sudden aura of heat scorches her bare flesh of her back. The crowd pauses, gasping with fear. Glacier turns, surprised to find Brink standing directly behind her. He watches the crowd with a dark, heated glare.

  “Who spoke?” His timber voice is dark with coercion. His stance is tense. Brink observes the crowd with a deathly stare, his hands clenched in tight fists.

  The photographers slowly lower their eye cameras, and turn around to a man standing awkwardly in the centre. The singled man looks around the crowd of betrayers with shock.

  Brink takes a step forward towards the barrier, with his hand raised. “What was it you called her? There was a lot of shouting, I couldn’t really make it out.” The lanky man takes a step back away from Brinks intimidating aura, bumping into another reporter that simply pushes him back to the centre.

  The pot of fire hovering above the walkway slowly melts into sludge, slopping onto the ground like falling mud. Glacier knows what will follow.

  No one else!

  “Brink, no.” She reaches forward, pulling his arm towards her.

  He looks back to her with furious eyes. Her nails burry in his suit jacket as she gazes back with frightened eyes. Her cheeks are damp, her eyes bright red and puffy. His eyes soften at the tragic sight.

  “He is calling us mutants.” He argues, his teeth gritting.

  “He called me a mutant–”

  “You and I are the same! We are the same.” His diverse eyes regard her with aggravation. From his eyes, Glacier can decipher his thoughts.

  ‘You are weak.’

  She nods her head, “Just leave it…”

  He watches her for a few moments longer, his eyes blazing, before storming off down the black carpet. Glacier releases a lungful of air as he strides into the building.

  ~

  The ballroom is overly extravagant.

  Individual pillars litter the main floor like markers. The bleached walls are decorated with floating drops of white frost, and the ceiling sits sky-high.

  The room is crowded with hues of sparkling silver and blue, like a winter wonderland.

  There are a number of tables set with white tablecloths in the centre of the room. Four tables sit separate from the group of white, with either a blue, orange, green or white cloth cloaking them. The coloured tables each have six chairs. Glacier notices the green table has only five.