The Frost Eater (The Magic Eaters Trilogy Book 1)

by Carol Beth Anderson

  Not wanting to attract attention by leaving with Krey, Nora slipped away first. She strode to the residence gate, praying that neither her dad nor her aunt looked her way. Their backs were to her, but the key still shook in her hand as she opened the gate. A couple of minutes later, she heard a quiet tap. She swung the gate open so Krey could join her.

  After leading Krey through the large residence, Nora opened a door, revealing the hallway that led to the palace. She smiled brightly at a guard. “Krey wants to show me a few books in the library,” she said. Krey held up his medallion.

  The guard lifted an eyebrow. “Tired of this music already?” He gestured for them to pass. The guard at the other end of the hall had heard the exchange, and he didn’t give them any trouble, either.

  When the door closed behind them, Krey pulled a handful of feathers from his pocket. He threw a couple of them in his mouth and started chewing. “Just in case.”

  Nora’s stomach knotted as they walked through the dark building, but she couldn’t keep a smile off her face. “If I wasn’t a princess,” she whispered, “I think I’d be a spy.”

  They reached Minister Sharai’s office. Nora pulled out the keys Ovrun had loaned her. The key turned easily in the lock. They closed the door and walked past the receptionist’s desk. Nora unlocked the minister’s door.

  The room had a window, but the drapes were closed. Once he’d closed the door behind them, Krey reached for the light switch. Nora covered it with her hand and whispered, “Desk lamp.”

  “Good call.”

  They approached the desk, and Nora turned on the small lamp. As they’d planned, Krey started searching drawers while Nora looked through the papers on top of the desk. There wasn’t much to go through. Minister Sharai, it seemed, was a minimalist.

  Nora was glancing through a neat stack of letters when Krey said, “This drawer is locked. Can you hand me the keys?”

  She did, then continued looking through the letters as Krey tried one key after another.

  “No luck,” he said, setting the keys on the desk. “I’ll have to use my magic. Glad I ate those feathers.”

  “How can flying help with a locked drawer?”

  “I’ll try to incorporate the drawer into my magic as if I were flying with it. I should be able to sense what’s in there.”

  Nora’s eyes widened as she turned to him. “You can do that? That’s amazing!”

  “Shh. Let me focus.” He placed both hands on the front of the drawer. After a moment, he lowered them with a frustrated groan. “It’s a big stack of papers. I can feel them, but I can’t see them. I have no idea what’s written on them, if anything.” He jostled the drawer. “I’ll see if I can get it open just like I did at that house in the city.”

  Nora sighed. The letters she’d been looking through were innocuous. Ignoring Krey’s grunts and curses, she moved on to other things on the desk. She found a pad of paper, sealed at the top with thick glue. The first few pages contained notes on educational initiatives for rural lysters and reminders about upcoming events. She flipped through the pages once, then again. That’s when she noticed writing on a page about halfway through the pad.

  “Did you hear that?” Krey whispered.

  “What?” she asked, eyes still on the page.

  “Shh.”

  A male voice reached them from the receptionist’s office on the other side of the door. “Minister Sharai?”

  Nora gasped, her eyes wide. She’d forgotten to lock either of the doors from the inside.

  She had barely enough time to turn off the desk lamp before Krey grabbed her arm and practically dragged her to a door in the corner. He threw it open, and they rushed in and pulled the door shut.

  The little room was dark, but Nora had seen enough to know it was a bathroom. They had to hide. She groped around the room, though she knew finding a hiding spot in a tiny bathroom with only a toilet and a sink was hopeless.

  Her hand hit a metal doorknob, rattling it in a way that made her suck in her breath. She turned the knob and groped around the space with both hands. Shelves, piled with towels and supplies, were on either side. A small space in the middle contained a mop and broom.

  Nora reached behind her, and her hand found Krey’s shirt. She grabbed it and pulled him close. “Linen closet!” she hissed in his ear.

  She stepped in and stood on one side, expecting Krey to join her. Instead, a current of air tickled her skin, and a whisper from above reached her. “I’m up here. The ceiling’s high. Hide under some towels.”

  It was a good plan, as there was only room for one of them to crouch on the floor. Nora pulled the door closed, then crouched and covered herself with towels.

  The bathroom door opened. There was a click from a light switch, though little illumination entered the closed closet.

  “Minister?” the voice asked again. “Are you in here?”

  Nora stayed as still as she could, but her breaths were coming too quickly. Then she heard the sound she’d been dreading—the metal twist of a doorknob and the squeak of hinges as the man opened the linen closet. Panic squeezed Nora’s chest, but she didn’t dare breathe.

  “Huh,” the voice said.

  The door closed.

  Nora didn’t take a breath until the light turned off. When the bathroom door closed, she started counting in her head. She planned to count to one hundred, then say something to Krey. When she reached her goal, she didn’t think speaking was worth the risk. She kept counting and reached 286 when a hand tapped her through the towels, making her jump.

  “Sorry,” Krey whispered from where he floated above her. “I think he’s gone. We better go in case he calls security.”

  Back in the dark office, Nora asked softly, “Where’d you put the keys?”

  “Right here.” Krey rummaged around on the desk. “They were here, I swear,” he whispered, tension tightening his voice. He turned on the desk light.

  There were no keys.

  They searched every bit of the desktop and looked through all the unlocked drawers. Krey crawled under the desk. Nora held the lamp so he could search.

  Krey cursed. “They’re not here. We have to go.”

  “But the keys!” Nora’s heart, which had calmed a little after the man’s exit, resumed its urgent pounding.

  “Whoever was here must’ve taken them. Do you know who it was?”

  “Minister Sharai’s receptionist. I recognized his voice. Krey, those are Ovrun’s keys! We have to return them!”

  “You don’t think I know that?”

  “What are we gonna do?”

  “First, we’re leaving. Then we’ll figure it out.”

  After turning off the lamp, they left the office and rushed through the building until they reached the hallway leading to the residence. By unspoken agreement, they slowed their pace. Krey opened the door.

  The first guard raised his eyebrows. “Where are your books?”

  Krey’s eyes widened. Nora giggled and said, “We were looking at old books. The ones that stay in the library.” She reached her hand up and patted her hair, which was messy, thanks to the towels. She pushed it behind her ear and grinned at the guard.

  He chuckled. “Better get back to the celebration.”

  The other guard let them go with nothing more than a knowing smile.

  When they were well past the guards, Krey said, “We should go outside.”

  Nora grabbed his arm. “Wait—I have to tell you something. Right before the receptionist came in, I saw something on that pad of paper. On a page in the middle, like she didn’t want anyone to come across it.”

  “What was it?”

  “A list—food and blankets and stuff. There was a heading on it that said Militia Supplies.”

  “Militia? We don’t have a militia. We have an army.”

  Nora raised her eyebrows. “Sharai doesn’t have anything to do with the army. She’s in charge of lysters. It’s gotta be a New Therroan militia.” She left off the obvi
ous conclusion: A lyster militia.

  Krey’s whole face tightened, and he rammed his fingers through his hair. “We’ve got to find them!”

  “Hey.” Nora waited for him to meet her gaze. “We will.”

  He clenched his teeth and shut his eyes, then took a deep breath and released it. “We should go outside.”

  Nora nodded, and they walked silently back to the celebration. They stopped at the drink table, where Nora asked for two cups of grape juice. When she turned to give Krey’s to him, she found him standing a few mets away, staring at a spot behind all the tables.

  “Here.” Nora handed him his drink, following his gaze. Minister Sharai’s receptionist was talking to the head of security and a second guard. “Oh no.”

  “Is that the receptionist?” Krey murmured.

  “Yes.”

  “We can’t both keep staring that direction; someone will notice.” Krey walked toward an empty table, followed by Nora. She sat with her back to Sharai. Krey positioned himself so he could see the minister over Nora’s shoulder. They pretended to have a normal conversation.

  The band played two full songs, and Nora began to hope all was well. Maybe the head of security wouldn’t trace the keys back to Ovrun—or to her and Krey. The two of them were keeping up appearances by chatting about something inconsequential when Krey’s eyes widened. Nora drew in a sharp breath. “What is it?”

  “The other guard left a while ago. He just got back.” Krey swallowed. “Ovrun’s with him.” He was silent for several seconds, and then his shoulders dropped. “The head of security just grabbed Ovrun’s arm. It looks like they’re walking to the palace.”

  In the Dark: 5

  Zeisha was falling through bright, syrupy air, a broken vine in her hand. The ground drew gradually closer. She wanted to cry out, but all that she could manage was a moan.

  Something brushed her shoulder, and a whisper cut through her fear: “What do you see?”

  She tried to say, “Help,” but it came out as “Hehhuh.”

  The ground, which had been approaching so slowly, was suddenly beneath her. “Ow.” She reached up to her head, closing her eyes against the pain.

  “What happened?” That same whisper again.

  “Fell. Ow . . . I fell.”

  “What did you fall from?”

  “My vine.” She could just sleep here on the ground, right where she’d fallen. It was dark now. She mumbled something that was supposed to be “Good night” and rolled over.

  “Zeisha.” That insistent whisper. “Did you make the vine?”

  She didn’t answer; couldn’t the person see she had a headache and wanted to sleep?

  “Did you, Zeisha?”

  Zeisha opened her eyes. Blinked against the darkness. Brought her hand to her aching head.

  “Did you make the vine?”

  “Yeah,” she mumbled. Where was she? Why wasn’t the vine in her hand? “I made it. Oh, my head.” Her fingers connected with a large, tender lump, and pain jolted her to alertness. I’m in the dark place where we sleep. Isla’s talking to me. “I think I hit my head today.”

  “You said you fell from a vine you lysted,” Isla said.

  “That doesn’t make sense. I can’t make a vine strong enough to hold me.”

  “I can’t create a huge hole in the ground, but that’s what I dreamed about a few days ago.”

  Zeisha sat up, gasping when the throbbing in her head worsened. She reached out for Isla’s hands. They were cold, and Zeisha rubbed them between her own hands. “Why don’t they want us to remember, Isla?”

  “I don’t know.” Isla sighed. “You need to count.”

  Zeisha moved the string and ran her fingers along the ridges on her ankle. There were two columns of them now. “Eleven weeks, six days.”

  “Good night,” Isla said.

  Zeisha lay down. Even her pounding head didn’t keep her from sleeping.

  16

  Mom and Dad often talked of their preday lives. It was strange hearing them speak of grandparents, aunts, and uncles. Nobody in our community had such relatives; they were all dead. But an elderly lady who lived nearby let us call her Granny, and some of my friends’ parents seemed like aunts and uncles.

  When my own children interacted with their aunts, uncles, and grandparents, it brought a fullness to my life I hadn’t realized was missing.

  -The First Generation: A Memoir by Liri Abrios

  As Nora had promised, the after-dinner band she’d chosen was great.

  But dancing was torture for Krey. His limbs were stiff, his smiles forced. He could tell Nora felt the same, but they were determined not to attract attention. That meant they had to celebrate.

  Moving her hips and feet to the music, Nora brought her mouth to Krey’s ear. “The head of security is talking to my father.”

  A dozen curses were on the tip of Krey’s tongue, but he stifled them and whispered to Nora, “Dessert time.”

  They walked together to the dessert table, grabbed cake that didn’t look remotely appetizing, and found seats with a good view of the king’s table.

  Away from the crowd of dancers, the evening breeze hit Krey’s sweaty body, chilling him. He put on his jacket and pulled up the hood. Nora did the same. They watched the king’s table wordlessly. It wasn’t long before the head of security left.

  Krey took one bite of cake. He held his fork between two fingers, tilting it up and down like a seesaw, tapping the table over and over.

  Nora brought her hand down on the fork, silencing it. “We have to help Ovrun.”

  “I know, but I’m all out of bright ideas.”

  She looked away and folded her arms. He tapped his fork again, this time in rhythm with the music. Nora twisted to face him and grabbed the fork, slamming it on the table, out of his reach. “We need to tell Dani everything. She’ll save Ovrun’s job if she knows he stole the keys for me.”

  “No—no!” Krey was so overwhelmed with the sheer terribleness of the idea that he momentarily forgot how to form coherent sentences.

  “But—” Nora began.

  “No! Listen, it was one thing for them to give me a break when I went into the records hall. They thought I was just a stupid apprentice going on an errand for you. It’s different for a guard! They won’t care that he was helping you!”

  “Then what can we do for him?” Nora’s chest was rising and falling rapidly, and the lamp in the middle of their table illuminated tears in her eyes. “You know I wasn’t joking when I said he was my only friend, right?”

  Krey just looked at her, pressing his lips together. The confession made his heart ache, a sensation he didn’t particularly like.

  Nora shook her head hard. “If he gets fired, I’ll never forgive myself.”

  Krey sighed. “Me either.”

  Nora went to the kitchen the next morning, drawn by the smell of savory sausage.

  “You’re up early, Your Highness!” the chef said. “I was making breakfast for your father, but there’s enough for two.”

  “Thanks.” She poured two cups of coffee. “I’m going to my father’s rooms. Will you please bring the food there?”

  “You bet.”

  Nora walked to her father’s quarters and knocked. “It’s me.”

  “Come on in, sweetie.”

  Nora entered. “I brought you coffee. I thought we could have breakfast in here.”

  Her father was buttoning his shirt collar in front of a mirror. “Perfect! Why don’t you set it on the table? I’m almost ready.”

  She sat at his small, private dining table and watched him, trying to figure out how to bring up the subject of Ovrun. Guilt had kept her awake most of the night. Ovrun had risked his career to help her. She should’ve guarded those keys with her life.

  Ovrun had filled a place in her heart that had been empty for months. The thought of losing him so soon after realizing his value—of letting him down when he’d given her way more than she deserved—was unbearable.


  Her father sat and sipped his coffee. “Delicious. I needed this; yesterday wiped me out.” He chuckled. “In fact, I need all the help I can get with the New Therroans today.”

  “How do you think your negotiations will go?”

  He gave her a kind smile. “I’m glad you’re asking. One day, you’ll be the one working on this. I’m sure things will be more stable by then, but right now, it’s rough. Some of their leaders want to compromise, but others will only settle for immediate independence.”

  “I’m sorry it’s not going well.” She was also sorry she’d asked. As important as the topic was, right now she couldn’t focus on anything but Ovrun’s fate.

  The chef entered and set a plate in front of each of them containing chepple sausage, bread, and fruit. They thanked him, and he exited.

  “I don’t want you worrying about New Therro,” her father said. “Dani told me you’ve had a rough week. It was good seeing you enjoy yourself at the celebration yesterday.”

  “It was a lot of fun!” Nora lied. She eyed him over her coffee. “Did you feel like everything went smoothly?”

  “Overall, yes. Though I didn’t care for the bands you chose.” He grinned at her; it was an ongoing topic of ribbing for both of them.

  Nora laughed, hoping it sounded natural. They ate for a few minutes in near silence. Well, if he isn’t gonna bring up the break-in, I will. “I saw you talking to the head of security. Is everything okay?”

  He set down his fork and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Nothing you need to worry about.”

  “Did something happen?”

  “Always the curious one.” He gave her a fond look. “I don’t suppose it hurts to tell you. Someone found one of the ministers’ offices unlocked. Inside was a set of keys belonging to a guard.”

  “Oh, really? Which guard?”

  “Ovrun. Do you know him? He came on our trip with us.”

  Nora widened her eyes in mock surprise. “Yeah, I do know him. Nice guy.”