Thrones of Desire

by Mitzi Szereto

  Bone and Marrow’s eyes widened with dismay. “I beg your pardon, Your Majesty?”

  She delivered them an unflinching gaze. “Take him to a bedchamber. He must be fed and well rested. I have more interrogations for him.”

  “Your Majesty, our apologies, but what of our dinner?”

  “Remember the wild boar you hunted this morning for my dinner? It is now yours to devour.”

  The wolves now panted and hopped upon their feet in delight.

  “But take this knight to a bedchamber first!”

  The Snow Queen’s castle was completely constructed from glimmering ice. While the other beds in the castle were also made of ice, Gerhard was put in one bed carved from pine and maple, with a soft mattress, pillows and heavy blankets. His armor and clothes were removed, so he lay only covered by the blankets that kept him warm. Sometimes the Snow Queen heard him pant heavily, caged in his feverish flesh. He would toss about in bed, roll onto his face, heave out great moans and even fall out of his bed so that the Snow Queen would have to pitch him back onto the mattress. Yet he continued to sleep. Two days passed with him in this state. Though the Snow Queen bristled at how childish he was in his slumber, she could not help but to feel a twinge of pity. Unlike everything else in the Kingdom of Ice, Gerhard emanated waves of scorching heat.

  On the third day, the Snow Queen let her white robe fall in a creamy pool around her slim ankles. She peeled back the red blanket, exposing his smooth, muscled chest, which rose and fell with his labored breaths. His skin was tinted like sun-warmed peaches, and his fever threatened to melt the ice walls of the bedchamber. The Snow Queen frowned, mentally forbidding him to incinerate her property with his body heat. Perhaps if she could absorb some of it, he would stop squirming around in bed like a squelching mouse.

  She slowly lowered herself onto him. It was a foreign sensation, having skin-to-skin contact with another person. Her breasts were like mounds of snow, her nipples like beads of hail, and her hands felt frostbitten against his smooth, scorching shoulders. She pressed against him. He smelled of forest soil and smoky fire and warm fleece, scents that she could only vaguely recall. The ridges of his collarbone cut into her cheek and as she lay there, she felt her nipples soften against his skin like ice melting into running water. With one hand, she fiddled with the key that hung from the chain around his neck and ran her fingertips over the smooth silver, warmed by his body. Why did he wear this key? It seemed to be a woman’s trinket, ill suited for a man.

  His chest fluttered beneath her.

  “You’re quite forward.”

  The Snow Queen lifted her face to see that Gerhard was looking at her. His brows were raised with a quizzical expression.

  “You were burning with fever!” As the Snow Queen tried to leap off the bed, her legs became ensnared by the crimson sheets, causing her to gracelessly squirm off of Gerhard’s body, off the side of the bed. Her bare back smacked against the floor of ice. Now that she had absorbed Gerhard’s body heat, the floor felt bitterly frozen against her bottom. The pain bloomed out of her rear, exploding through her legs and back.

  “Let me.” Gerhard held out his hand to her.

  “I don’t need help!” The Snow Queen snatched her white robe and threw it over her shoulders, clutching the fabric in front of her chest. She glared at Gerhard. He was gazing back at her as he pulled his blanket back over himself, looking at her without a blink. She grimaced and turned her glare to her pale foot.

  “I thought you were going to kill me,” said Gerhard. “Or is this supposed to be my deathbed?”

  The Snow Queen still stared at her foot, the blue veins visible through her translucent skin. “I have to know more about you.”

  “Why do you wish to converse with me? At least, from where I live, it is not customary to make pets out of creatures that will only be butchered.”

  The Snow Queen’s face soured when she looked back at Gerhard. “Who are you?”

  “I believe I already told you. My name is Gerhard and I am a knight seeking an elixir.”

  “Tell me more!” She eyed the key that now hung over his heart. “Why do you wear that necklace?”

  Gerhard’s hand rose to tuck the key into his gentle fist. “Why would a necklace interest you? It is a plain trinket, not meant for the likes of someone as beautiful as you.”

  “I have no intention of taking it! I just want to know who gave it to you!”

  Gerhard’s eyes lowered to his fist. His voice softened. “I have worn this necklace for a long time. Someone I knew during childhood gave it to me.”

  “Do you remember who?”

  “She died.”

  “Your mother?”

  Gerhard only continued to stare at his fist. The Snow Queen thought to press on with the identity of the gift-giver, but the question died on her tongue. She swallowed all shards of the question, letting it wash away in the back of her throat.

  “How old are you now?”

  “Thirty-eight.” Gerhard slumped onto his side, his face falling upon his arm. “Forgive me, but I am famished.”

  Extracting a silver bell from the pocket of her robe, the Snow Queen rang it, producing a light, tinkling ring. Bone and Marrow peered in through the doorway.

  “Yes, Your Majesty?”

  “Please bring the knight something to eat.”

  They gnashed their fangs, but obediently trotted away. In a few minutes, Bone balanced a plate of a roasted boar leg on his head, while Marrow held the handle of a water pitcher with his fangs.

  “Thank you,” said the Snow Queen after they set the nourishment upon a table by the bed. “You are both relieved of your duties for the rest of the day. I know that a moose is traveling toward the vicinity northwest of the castle. You should be able to hunt him down.”

  “You are most generous with your knowledge, Your Majesty.” After the wolves sank in low bows before her, they scampered off through the doorway, baying with excitement. The Snow Queen swept out of the room to let Gerhard eat in privacy.

  Gerhard fell into a deep slumber again for another two days. The Snow Queen felt her spine bristle with aggravation. What had crossed her mind to act as a hostess for this intruder, to let him deprive Bone and Marrow of their rightful meals, and to become enraptured by the heat of his skin? He was not as feverish as he used to be, and now that the Snow Queen had lain against his skin, she was not as immune to the impervious chill of her kingdom. Before, she could do with wearing nothing more than a silk gown that bared her shoulders and skimmed her smooth legs. Now she had to be bundled in a fur coat. The skin on her hands even turned a blotchy pink if she did not protect them in a muff.

  She drew out her dagger again. Her breath grew shallow as she kept her eyes on Gerhard’s face. Perhaps she could keep his necklace as a souvenir of her victim?

  She took in a sharp breath when she saw Gerhard’s brows quiver. He squirmed in bed, turning his head so that his cheek lay against the pillow, facing her.

  “Eira,” he breathed, half speaking mellifluously, half whispering hoarsely.

  The Snow Queen froze. Eira? Who was Eira? Was Eira his mother, a sister, a lover, a daughter or a wife? Or the person from his childhood who had given him the key necklace? Suddenly she felt a momentary sensation of warm sunlight against her back and the tart taste of fresh apples upon her tongue.

  When Gerhard awoke, she immediately barked, “Who is Eira?”

  His eyes widened. “How do you know about her?”

  “You were calling for her in your sleep.”

  Gerhard looked away from her, his fingers rising to touch his key.

  “I’ll make you a deal,” stated the Snow Queen. “If you tell me your life story, tell me who gave you that key and tell me the significance of that person, I’ll set you free. I promise you that my wolves won’t eat you.”

  “My lady, I came here for an elixir.” Gerhard looked at her with grave eyes. “If I cannot find it, then it would be more honorable of me to die seeking it t
han to return home empty handed.” He paused. Their dark eyes met each other’s. “An old hag I encountered many weeks ago informed me that the tears of the Snow Queen would cure the epidemic.”

  “Bah! Tears? I do not cry.”

  “And you are the only Snow Queen here?”

  “Of course I am!”

  “How long have you reigned?”

  The Snow Queen faltered. Her brows furrowed as her lips fell open. “I have reigned for as long as I can remember.”

  “You have no family? No children?”

  “You are in no position to question me!” The Snow Queen felt a rush of angry blood flood her face, an uncomfortable sensation that made her feel like an icicle that fell into the jaws of a roaring fire. “I’ll revise my challenge. If you tell me everything I requested you to tell me and manage to move me to tears, I will fill a vial with my tears and set you free. If you cannot manage to make me weep, then each of your arms will be fed to my wolves.”

  “Actually, they can eat all of me.”

  “How generous,” sneered the Snow Queen. She raised her chin as she looked down upon Gerhard. “Begin, then!”

  Gerhard cleared his throat. Before the Snow Queen knew what she was doing, she sat at the foot of his bed, eyeing him like a child expecting to be engrossed by a bedtime story.

  “I was born in a village about fifty miles away from the kingdom of Elswood and lived there all my life. All of the people in my village were peasants, growing crops and raising animals. I had a loving family, with a mother, a father, three sisters and a younger brother. A scout from the king’s castle visited my home when I was five and predicted that, as the eldest sibling in my family, I would make a fine knight. I was convinced that it was my destiny to become a knight. But…I must admit, there are times when I wish it wasn’t so.”

  “Why?” asked the Snow Queen.

  Gerhard hesitated. “If I hadn’t been a knight, then…then my wife would not have died.” His Adam’s apple bobbed, pulsing against the skin of his throat. “Eira was my wife’s name. Before we married, she had been my childhood friend. We did have a happy marriage, but after I was called away to live at the castle, she…she died.”

  The Snow Queen’s eyes widened as she was suddenly engulfed in a vision.

  Sunlight poured upon the sheep and cows in the evergreen field. She wanted to pet a lamb, one no taller than she was, and feel its cloud-like fleece. It bleated and rushed away from her. Suddenly she heard a laugh and turned to see a young boy smiling at her. He was about three years older, aged eight, with floppy brown hair that glowed with a tint of autumn-orange in the sunlight.

  “I’m Gerhard,” he said. “What is your name?”

  The girl shot him a gap-toothed grin. Her golden hair fluttered behind her like a wedding veil, and her cheeks were pink from the blazing sun.

  “My name is Eira!”

  Gerhard was swallowing. He looked as though he had difficulty breathing. “We were very close. As we grew up, there were days when we couldn’t bear to be apart. We would tend the sheep, pick apples, gather firewood, cook dinner and watch after our mothers’ babies. After I was knighted, I came back to the village and we married.”

  A beautiful bride was spun around on the dance floor by her groom, his arms wrapped around her waist. All around them, their families and friends danced to the music of a fiddler in the corner of the wooden room. There was a roaring fire in the hearth, and corn cakes and roasted beef lay on the table. It was not a spectacularly grand wedding, but the newlyweds were at least clean and healthy and brimming with joy to be together.

  “There came a time when I was called to the castle. I was told that I couldn’t live in the village anymore. I wasn’t even allowed to bring Eira with me.”

  Eira clasped a delicate silver chain around her husband’s neck. He touched the small key that hung from the chain, glancing down at the charm before he raised his eyes to meet his wife’s eyes and lips. Eira’s eyes were warm with molten tears. Around her own neck hung a lock upon a chain identical to Gerhard’s.

  He swept her into his arms, kissing her tear-moistened lips.

  “She was starting to carry our child after I left. But I was at the castle for so long and so far away from home, that…” Gerhard’s voice quavered. He lowered his head to his bent knees, cupping his face with his large, enveloping hands. His fingers twitched as his shoulders shook. “I…I had an affair with a maid at the castle.” His voice ruptured and regret bled from his tongue. “I only craved intimacy. I never cared for the maid and I missed Eira so much, and I never intended to hurt her. I don’t know how she found out, but she did, and she was devastated. After she knew of my affair, I found out that she had a miscarriage.”

  Eira was standing on the edge of a cliff. One hand was pressed over her now-empty womb, the other clutching the lock on her necklace with a punishing grip. Her head was lowered and her disheveled hair whipped over her face. Tears slipped down and off her chin, hurtling into the abyss far below, crashing into the roaring river that convulsed and veered nearly a mile beneath her bare feet. The wind mercilessly scratched at her white skirts, threatening to tear them into shreds, to expose her hidden legs and hips and shoulders, to blow her away down into the ravine like a weightless paper doll.

  She jumped. Her fluttering hair disappeared over the edge of the cliff like torn sunlit strips of paper.

  “I could never be with another woman after she died.” Gerhard’s breath quivered like a harp string that threatened to snap apart. His eyes were glassy, but no tears spilled down his cheeks. “It’s been nineteen years. I think of her and our dead child every day. I can never stop thinking of how our lives could have been if I was never a knight. Because of this, I can’t bear the pain of the parents who watch over their dying children. So I came here. I’m willing to either die or to succeed in my quest.”

  The Snow Queen abruptly realized that her face was hot and wet. Her tears, like red-hot coals, dissolved the customary cool surface of her translucent skin. “I…I…” She stood up and turned so that her back faced Gerhard. “Please excuse me.” Clutching her fur robe tightly around her, she started to rush out of the room.

  “Don’t forget our deal!” called Gerhard.

  “I didn’t!”

  She wound her way up a spiral ice staircase, too hurried to realize that, as she rushed past the narrow windows on the rounded walls, bits of sunlight were sifting through the thinning gray clouds. She entered her own bedchamber, which was larger and grander than the bedchamber Gerhard was in. It consisted of a canopy bed made of ice, entwined with vines of holly around the posts, and a vanity that was also carved from ice. Upon the vanity in front of the tall oval mirror lay a velvet box as slender as a slim book and as richly colored as the hue of plums. She had forgotten about the box for about twenty years. After she grabbed a glass vial corked with a rose’s thorn from her bedside table, her hand quivered as she reached out for the velvet box. She could not tell if it was from the fear that what she hoped would be inside would be gone, or if it was from the harshly cold air, or both.

  A warm, smoky breath of relief escaped her like a cloud of fog that disappeared before her lips. Lying upon the dark velvet lining was the lock from her memory, the one she wore when she leapt to her demise. When the Snow Queen clasped the necklace around her neck, she saw that, in the mirror, she had lost some of her icy pallor. A tint of peach stained her skin, and her cheeks and nose were red from the cold. Her cheeks were not so hollow and her arms not as bony as they had been. Her long hair looked as though gold had been dusted through the white strands. She reached out a hand. When her touch met her reflection’s fingers, she felt the glass sting her with its chill.

  A drop of water fell from the ceiling. It burst upon the velvet lining of the box where the necklace had nestled. The Snow Queen looked up. The ceiling was beginning to thin.

  She ran downstairs, back into Gerhard’s bedchamber. When he sat up and looked at her, she stood frozen in her
tracks, breathless from both her run and her revelation.

  “I never knew your name,” Gerhard stated.

  “It’s me!” The Snow Queen threw herself upon her knees by Gerhard’s bed, her hands clutching the blanket over his lap. “Gerhard, it’s me! Eira! Your wife!” She bit her lip with trepidation and lifted the chain around her neck to show him the lock she wore. Gerhard, barely breathing, fingered the charm.

  “But…Eira…you couldn’t have survived.”

  After she had thrown herself off the cliff, the young woman had expected to feel an explosion of blood and bones. But instead, when she opened her eyes, she found herself upon an expanse of snow. She only recalled falling, but she failed to recollect what had prompted her to do so.

  In the distance, she spotted two wolves prancing toward her. One of them carried a robe of white silk on his back. The other clenched a golden crown between his fangs.

  “Bone and Marrow made you their queen, and since then, you could never recall your past?”

  Eira shook her head. The tears spilling from her eyes were crippling her ability to speak. She thrust the glass vial that had been clutched in her fist at him. “I’m honoring our deal, Gerhard. Take my tears. Let them cure the children of Elswood.”

  After taking the vial in one hand, Gerhard pressed his other hand against her left cheek. He was so warm. She could see that he had more creases around his eyes and that he had more untamed stubble than before she had died. But he was so handsome, as handsome as she recalled, if not more so.

  “You’re just as beautiful as I remember you,” he murmured. He gently pressed the vial beneath her right eye, letting her tears slip into the cold glass. After he corked the vial with the rose’s thorn, his hands slipped around her waist and he yanked her closer to him, close enough for her to feel his burning breath on his lips, to see the kaleidoscope of rustic hues in his eyes, to feel his sudden hardness against the inside of her right thigh.

  He crushed her into a kiss. He was not as feverish as he had been days before, but he still seared her with his hard, tangible heat, his tongue like a scorching serpent that ran over her own. She heard the discordant rips of her robe as he tore it off her, and she realized that the heat from his body was greater than the insulation her fur robe had provided. His skin was like the sun, which she had not felt since she died, and roughly chafed against her skin until her whole body was as warm as his. It was as though she had been made of ice, only to be melted away by a merciless sun.