The Frost Eater (The Magic Eaters Trilogy Book 1)

by Carol Beth Anderson

  A door creaked open. A bored, female voice commanded, “Back to sleep.”

  One night, they’d defied that voice, continuing their conversation. The woman had walked through the room, waking others by stepping on them. When she’d found Zeisha and Isla, she’d hit them both in the mouth, hard enough to make them scream. Since then, everyone slept when the woman came, or at least pretended to.

  Zeisha and Isla stifled their weeping, but they didn’t let go of each other.

  6

  When I was growing up, all my clothing was scavenged from closets of dead children. Sometimes when I got dressed, I closed my eyes and imagined the life of the girl who first wore my clothes. Other days, I imagined her death.

  -The First Generation: A Memoir by Liri Abrios

  Nora stood in her icehouse over an open chest, holding a handful of cold, magical fuel in front of her mouth.

  She couldn’t bring herself to eat it.

  “Damn it, Krey West!” She threw the ice back into the chest and shoved the lid down.

  The last time she’d lysted was twelve days earlier, onstage in Tirra. She was yearning to use her faculty. She could almost taste the ice, feel the snow shooting from her hands and mouth.

  Krey’s words, however, kept returning to her: Your ice melts while poverty-stricken frost eaters in Cellerin City set out cups of water at night, praying for a freeze.

  She’d always known she didn’t do anything to deserve all her luxuries, like year-round ice. But she also didn’t deserve to have her career—her whole life, really—decided for her. It all evened out . . . right?

  Nora pictured a poor frost eater parting with money he’d saved for months, exchanging it for a treasured block of ice. Such a man would give anything to have ice waiting for him in an insulated chest, and he’d laugh at her for whining about royal life. Nora let out a long sigh and walked from the icehouse into her bedroom.

  She went to her closet, and Krey’s words continued running through her head as she changed from her pajamas into a silky shirt and comfortable trousers, both tailored to fit her body. Next, she moved to her bathroom to do her makeup. A few minutes into her routine, an idea broke through her sobering, guilty thoughts. Her mouth widened into a smile that she had trouble taming when it was time for lipstick.

  Skipping eye makeup, she threw on a pair of walking shoes and a jacket and left her rooms. She grabbed a hand pie from the kitchen for breakfast, then strode through the short hallway connecting the residence to the palace itself, greeting the guards at either end. By the time she reached her intended destination at the west side of the palace, she’d finished the pie, enjoying every bite of flaky pastry, soft vegetables, and spicy sausage.

  Nora entered an office labeled Ministry of Lysting and approached the receptionist. “Hi.”

  The receptionist’s only greeting was a pair of wide eyes and a mouth that dropped open under his neat mustache. Nora didn’t usually visit this wing of the palace.

  She smiled. “I’d like to talk to Minister Sharai, please.”

  The receptionist nodded and gestured to the door behind his desk.

  “Thanks.” Nora knocked on the minister’s door.

  “Come in.”

  She opened the door. “Is this a good time?”

  Minister Sharai’s eyebrows rose, but she recovered more quickly than her receptionist. “Of course, Your Highness. Have a seat.”

  Nora sat. “I’d like to chat about my icehouse.”

  The minister removed her reading glasses. “Do you need more catalyst than we’re providing?”

  Nora smiled. Most people called it fuel, but leave it to the Minister of Lysting to use the most formal term possible. “I have plenty, but I’d like to change how we do things. Every week before the ice delivery, I want someone to retrieve what I haven’t used, then give it to ice lysters in Cellerin City.”

  The minister’s brows rose even farther. “What a generous idea.”

  “I hate to see it go to waste.”

  “It will take some organizing, and funding, of course.”

  Nora grinned. “I know you’ll be able to work out the details. I’d be happy to talk to my father if you need more funding.”

  “Very well. We’ll make it happen.”

  “Great! I do have one more request. There’s a new ice lyster living in the dorms named Krey West. Please send a medium-sized chest of chipped ice to his quarters every week.”

  Minister Sharai wrote the name down. “Krey West, very well. I’ll add it to the order.”

  Nora thanked her and left the office, feeling lighter than she had all day. She had a niggling sense Krey wouldn’t be satisfied with her gestures of goodwill. Then again, Krey probably wouldn’t be satisfied with anything she did. She’d done what she could. Maybe later, she could do more.

  She walked to the stables, where a groom had saddled Blue, just as Nora had requested the night before. She thanked the groom, greeted Blue with a snuggle, and mounted. Then she rode around the grounds, soaking up the sun and enjoying every minute of her meandering journey.

  Nora stopped on the northwest side of the pond to let Blue grab a few bites of grass. In the distance, a guard exited the guardhouse and opened the gate. Someone dashed inside, running like he was fleeing a monster.

  Is that—? Yes, his skin was a redder tone than usual, but she recognized Krey’s shaggy, black hair. He ran northeast past the pond, then entered the garden.

  Considering the tone of all their previous encounters, Nora had been brainstorming how she could get past Krey West’s baffling grudge against her. She’d like to think he’d appreciate the ice she was sending to his room, but she doubted it. Another idea struck, and she turned Blue toward the residence, patting his rump. His legs broke into a smooth, loping run.

  At the residence, Nora looped Blue’s reins around a hitching post. She ran in the front door and asked the nearest member of the household staff to take Blue back to the stable. Next, she dashed to the kitchen.

  She let out a victorious “Yes!” when she found a jug in the icebox labeled BOLLAGRAPE JUICE, with a little smiley face drawn next to the words. She’d asked the chef the previous afternoon to make the concoction she’d tried in Tirra. How he’d managed it so quickly was a mystery. She made a mental note to hug him for it.

  Nora poured the juice into two mugs and took a sip from one, sighing with contentment. Then she carried the drinks through the house, outside, and to the garden, hoping Krey was still there.

  She found him sitting on a bench, staring into the distance, his lips pressed into a tight line. When he heard her, he stood. “I know I’m probably not supposed to be here. I was cooling off. I’ll go—”

  “Have a seat, Krey. I saw you run in. I figured you were thirsty.” Nora held out a mug.

  His eyebrows drew together, and his eyes flicked down to the mug, then back up to her face. “I go for runs all the time. I don’t need a drink.”

  She thrust the mug at him, and some juice sloshed out. “It’s bollagrape juice, not poison. Just take it!”

  He grabbed the cup and downed it in one, long drink. “Thanks.”

  “Have a seat.”

  He did, and Nora sat next to him. The bench was small, and when her leg brushed his, he tensed.

  She finished her own juice, then asked, “Did it taste like home?”

  He gave a curt nod.

  “I’ll take your mug.”

  Krey handed it over, and she placed it on the bench next to hers. She’d hoped to tell him about her visit to the Ministry of Lysting, then convince him to practice magic with her. It didn’t seem like a good time, though. What was going on behind those brooding eyes?

  He turned his head toward her and stood. “I’m going back to my room.”

  “Wait!” She offered him a hesitant smile. “Can you sit—just for a minute? Please?”

  He narrowed his eyes and furrowed his forehead, but complied.

  “Are you okay?” Nora asked.
r />   “Yes.”

  Definitely a lie. “Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

  “No.”

  His eyes were off somewhere in the distance again, and Nora studied him. What was that word she’d used for him the night they met? Striking. That was it. And it fit. His nose was a little big, his skin marked with a few scars from acne or a childhood illness. But his eyes were nice, jawline strong, hair thick. And the smile he was so hesitant to let her see? It was his best feature. Despite her assurances to herself that all she wanted from him was friendship and a little tutoring, she couldn’t help thinking he was pretty cute. Maybe once he got over whatever his issues were with her . . .

  Nora gave her head a little shake. This is not the time for flirting. Hadn’t she learned anything from her mistake with Ovrun? Besides, Krey was upset. He probably needed a friend as much as she did, even if he wouldn’t admit it. She swallowed. “I’m not sure what’s going on, but it’ll be all right.”

  His entire body swiveled to face her, his knees knocking against hers. This time, he didn’t seem to notice the contact. “You have no way of knowing that,” he said in a low, choked voice.

  There were tears in his eyes. Anger too, but for once, he wasn’t directing it at her. “Oh, by the sky, Krey. Whatever’s going on, I’m sorry.”

  He blinked, and one shoulder lifted in a slight shrug. He looked so vulnerable. Only one thing came to mind that was sure to comfort him. Without giving herself time to reconsider the impulse, Nora leaned in and kissed him.

  Her lips contacted his for a fraction of a second before he jerked his head back and stood up, nearly sending Nora tumbling off the back of the bench. “What the hell was that?” he demanded.

  She looked up at him, her eyes wide, cheeks flaming. What was wrong with her? How had she gone from not the time for flirting, to throwing herself at Krey?

  One of his arms swung up, pointing south, toward the gate. “What would Ovrun think if he knew you’d just tried to kiss me?”

  Nora’s mouth dropped open. He knows about Ovrun? In an instant, her single, brief tryst with her favorite guard rushed back into her mind, flooding her cheeks with heat. That night had been nothing short of divine. For one hour, Nora had forgotten that her entire future was already laid out for her. She’d felt truly free. Ovrun was a sweet, hot, perfect distraction from real life.

  Then Ovrun had stopped kissing and started talking, and his adoring words made his stance clear: Nora was more than a diversion to him. His feelings for her ran deep. Too deep. Those perfect kisses had been a mistake.

  Now this smartass apprentice was throwing that mistake in Nora’s face. Avoiding Krey’s gaze, she forced a denial through her tight throat. “There’s nothing between me and Ovrun.”

  “Well, he certainly thinks there is.”

  Nora brought her hands up to cover her face and spoke into her palms. “Please, just sit down, Krey; I swear by the stone, I won’t ever try to touch you again.”

  Krey didn’t sit, but he didn’t leave, either. Instead, he planted his feet in front of Nora.

  She looked up, peeking through her fingers. Krey had folded his arms and was staring down, fire in his eyes. How had she managed to mess this up so badly?

  “I—” Nora brought her hands down, forcing herself to lift her chin and meet Krey’s gaze. “I regret giving Ovrun the impression I wanted a relationship with him. We . . . I thought we were just having fun.”

  That was sort of true. What Nora would never confess to Krey was that she liked Ovrun. A lot. But whoever she eventually married would rule alongside her. Her father had to approve the match, just like his parents had approved his marriage. In fact, Nora’s parents had barely known each other when they’d gotten married. Her dad insisted his daughter would make her marriage work, just like he and her mother had.

  Nora wasn’t so sure. There was no getting around the strictures, though. She couldn’t indulge in romance like other teenagers could. At least not with a royal guard who wasn’t a lyster and knew very little about running a kingdom.

  At first, Nora had assumed all Ovrun was looking for was an occasional tryst with the princess. They could probably hide a few midnight kisses. Then he’d opened up to her, and she’d realized he wanted the same thing she did: a real relationship. There was no way they could conceal that, and her dad would never approve. Not wanting to lead Ovrun on, Nora had forced herself to stay away from him.

  With a start, she realized Krey was still watching her, one eyebrow raised. “So you kissed Ovrun to have a little fun,” he said. “Is that what you were doing with me too?”

  How was she supposed to answer that? I acted without thinking, and it got me into trouble. As usual. She shoved her hair behind her ears and murmured, “You just—you looked so sad. I wanted you to feel better.”

  Krey’s mouth broke into a disbelieving smile. Laughter streamed out of him, and he sat next to her again, shaking his head.

  “I wasn’t trying to be funny!” Nora said.

  That made Krey laugh harder. At last, he calmed and met her gaze. One more chuckle escaped his grinning mouth. “Sorry, I’m not trying to laugh at you. But—I just don’t get—” He halted, then brought his fist to his mouth, tapping his lips lightly with his thumb and examining her.

  “What?”

  He dropped his hand. “Have you ever been around people your age?”

  Faylie’s sharp nose, high cheekbones, and long, straight hair flashed in Nora’s mind. Her closest friendship, and she’d botched it. Just like she’d done with Ovrun, and now with Krey. She swallowed and shook her head. “Not . . . much.”

  “Well, consider me your tutor in how to be a teenager. Lesson One: Kissing. It’s fun, don’t get me wrong, but if you kiss a guy, he’s gonna think it means something. Especially when you’re a princess. Poor Ovrun is sitting in that guardhouse every day, dreaming of going to royal balls with you.”

  She stared at him. Nobody talked to her like this. She couldn’t decide if it was refreshing or offensive.

  He kept going. “And I can’t believe I even have to tell you this, but you can’t go around giving people consolation kisses. There are better ways to help someone in their time of need.”

  She wet her lips, though her tongue itself seemed dry. “Sorry. I just—you’re right; I have absolutely no idea how to act around guys my age. I just thought you might like it.”

  Every trace of amusement left Krey’s eyes. “And maybe I would’ve, if the source of my troubles wasn’t my missing girlfriend.”

  Nora stared at him. “Your missing girlfriend?”

  He released a loud sigh and turned to face the garden again.

  “Krey—” Nora reached out a hand, then drew it back, remembering her promise to never touch him again. “Whatever’s going on, I might be able to help.”

  He kept his gaze locked on the hedge across the path. “Thanks, but it’s my problem.”

  It was her turn to sigh. “Don’t be a martyr. You need help, and I’m bored out of my mind. Come on, bring some adventure to my life.” She was smiling by the end of her statement, but she meant every word of it.

  He turned back to her and narrowed his eyes. “Why did you invite me to work at the palace?”

  She blinked at the sudden change in subject, then sighed. “I wanted you to teach me to do what you do with ice. The masters I work with are dull as table knives, and ever since I saw you slide down that ramp you made, I’ve wanted to know how to do it too.”

  He gave her the same incredulous smile as before. “Seriously?”

  “Yeah. But based on how you’ve been acting, I figured you’d never willingly help me. I decided to kiss you so at least I’d get some benefit from your presence.”

  His eyes widened.

  “That was a joke,” she said with a smile. Then she sobered. “I told you my reason for inviting you here. It’s your turn. Why’d you come here? I’m guessing it has to do with your girlfriend?”

  He stared at her
for a few seconds before giving her a small nod, like he’d made a decision. “Her name is Zeisha.”

  He told her about Zeisha’s recruitment as an apprentice. That part wasn’t too concerning. Then he told her about his experience in Cellerin City. The bald man in the little house sounded just plain odd, and Nora gasped when Krey described the brutes who’d threatened to kill him. When he finished, he let out a shuddering breath, clearly still shaken.

  “Wow.” Nora mulled it over. Krey had probably just encountered two overzealous guards who’d been instructed to keep some high-level apprentices safe. But he didn’t deserve to be threatened, and he needed answers. The poor guy was out of his mind with worry. She laid a hand on his shoulder, not caring anymore about her impetuous promise. “I’ll talk to my father today. We’ll get to the bottom of this.”

  Krey shrugged off her hand. He crossed his arms and shook his head hard. “I don’t want to get your father involved. Bureaucracy ruins everything. Besides, the government is obviously behind this.”

  Nora repressed an eyeroll. “If there’s a government conspiracy—something I doubt, by the way—my father will bring a stop to it. At the very least, he’ll figure out why those guards thought it was okay to threaten you.” Seeing Krey’s exasperated expression, she pushed forward, her voice turning shrill. “I’m offering to ask the king of Cellerin to help you. You’re seriously turning that down?”

  He unfolded his arms, swinging his hands wide and matching her elevated volume. “When you mentioned helping me, I thought you meant doing something useful, like breaking into some secret records room to look for information on Zeisha.”

  “The only place I know of where they keep files is the records hall, and it’s guarded! How would you expect me to break in?”

  “I don’t know, you could kiss the guard and ask real nice.”

  She gaped at him. “That was low.”

  “Sorry, but I’m trying to find the girl I’ve loved since I was ten years old, and you’re offering to help me by having a conversation with your father. You really think he’ll believe me? The teenager who interrupted a royal event and fell on his ass in the process?”