The Frost Eater (The Magic Eaters Trilogy Book 1)

by Carol Beth Anderson

  Ovrun was looking down at his folded hands, flicking one thumbnail against the other. After a minute or so of this, he looked up. “Some guy delivers a thick envelope to her every week. It always seemed weird to me that he doesn’t use the regular mail system. He’s got permission to go inside the gate and bring it straight to Sharai.”

  Krey’s mouth dropped open, then widened into a smile. “That’s exactly the type of information I need.”

  Ovrun shrugged. “I can’t imagine what you’re going through with Zeisha missing. And maybe I’m stupid for saying this, but . . . I have some time on my hands these days. Do you still need help?”

  Krey gaped again. “Are you serious?”

  “Yeah.” Ovrun smiled for the first time since Krey’s arrival. “Yeah. I want to help.”

  Krey blinked against an influx of emotion. He covered it with a laugh. “I need all the help I can get.”

  18

  My mom used to talk longingly of the days when a woman could take one pill a month to suppress her period. If she preferred not to take medication, she could use high-quality, inexpensive hygiene products. After The Day, scavengers gathered as many of these pills and products as they could find, hoarding them and requiring such valuable goods in return, only the wealthiest could afford them.

  -The First Generation: A Memoir by Liri Abrios

  Nora tapped her pencil on the table and gazed out the window behind her father’s desk. It was such a nice day, barely cold enough for a light jacket. Inside, heaters made the air stuffy and thick. She longed to leave the palace and practice magic.

  “How’s the math coming?” Nora’s father’s voice yanked her attention away from the window.

  “Great!” She turned her gaze back to the problem she’d been stuck on for fifteen minutes. Pointless, pointless, this is pointless. It was a refrain that had been running through her head constantly. She’d even made up a little tune for it.

  Dani hadn’t revealed Nora’s role in the break-in. She had, however, told the king that his daughter needed more structure. Now he forced Nora to sit in his office every weekday, doing school work. He’d temporarily halted her training with master lysters. Tutors came every afternoon, assisting her under her father’s watchful eye. It had been less than a week, and Nora was already sick of it.

  “How close are you to being done with that assignment?”

  Nora flinched. She hadn’t heard her father come to stand behind her.

  “I still have a whole page of problems.”

  “I want it done by the time I return from my Board of Ministers meeting.”

  “I could go with you.” Nora flashed him a hopeful smile. “I’d learn a lot there.”

  “Great idea.” When Nora started to rise, her father placed his hand on her shoulder and gently pushed her back down. “When you graduate, you can start attending the meetings with me.” He winked and left the room.

  Nora stared at the paper without focusing on it. She’d gotten a note from Krey a few days earlier, and she could think of nothing else. Sharai gets top-secret papers delivered to her every week. Surely they had something to do with the militia. They might contain information on Zeisha.

  They might contain information on Faylie too.

  Nora knew her friend had almost certainly moved to Newland. But what if she hadn’t? What if she was in trouble? The possibility seemed more real as the days progressed. Whether that was due to some inner instinct or misplaced hope, Nora didn’t know.

  Still, it was one thing to know about Sharai’s secret papers. It was another thing to actually get to them. It wasn’t like Nora could break into the minister’s office again.

  She sat up straighter. Sharai would be at the Board of Ministers meeting. Maybe breaking in wasn’t necessary. A plan quickly formed in her racing mind.

  She’d brought a small ice chest with her, hoping to practice outside at lunchtime. She opened it and fueled up, just in case. The ice sent a chill through her body, a welcome sensation after being so warm all day. She put on her hooded jacket and waited a couple of minutes, reviewing her plan. Then she ate more ice.

  That done, she rushed into her father’s receptionist’s office. She grabbed the edge of the desk, leaning close to the startled woman. “Do you have a tampon?”

  The receptionist, who acted as Nora’s jailer while the king was away, gave Nora a pitying smile. “Of course.” She opened a desk drawer and handed Nora two paper-wrapped tampons. “One for later.”

  “You’re the best.” Nora smiled, then winced and brought her hand to her belly. “I might be a few minutes.” She shoved both tampons in her pocket and rushed out.

  Instead of going to the bathroom, she descended the stairs as fast as she dared. She strode into Minister Sharai’s office. “I’m here for my appointment with the minister.”

  The receptionist’s eyes were as wide as they’d been last time Nora came to visit Sharai. “I . . . uh, I’m sorry, she’s in a meeting.”

  Nora stepped toward the minister’s office door. “It’s all right; she asked me to come by.”

  The receptionist stepped between Nora and the door. “I’m sorry, Your Highness, but she’s not in there.”

  “Oh.” Nora frowned. “Is she in the palace?”

  “Yes.”

  “Hmm. It sounded like it was urgent when we spoke.” Nora squared her shoulders and spoke imperiously. “I’ll write her a note to let her know I’m here. You can deliver it.” She bent over the receptionist’s desk, grabbed a piece of paper and a pen, and started writing.

  “Your Highness?” The receptionist’s voice was hesitant. “You want me to bring her a note . . . during the Board of Ministers meeting?”

  Nora paused in her writing. “Of course. My father won’t mind. Or at least . . . I don’t think he will.” She let out a nervous laugh. “Don’t say who the note is from, okay? I mean, I’ve gotta live with the guy.”

  When she was done writing, she handed the note to the receptionist. He walked away, fidgeting with the paper. As soon as the outer office door was closed, Nora rushed to the inner door and found it unlocked. She stifled a giddy laugh. Whatever the results of this adventure, it beat doing math problems.

  Listening through the open door for the receptionist’s return, she dashed to the desk. Sharai’s secret communications were probably in the locked drawer Krey hadn’t been able to open. Nora grabbed the handle, but the drawer was as immovable as before. She scanned the desktop and looked through the three unlocked drawers. No keys.

  Breathe, Nora. She surveyed the room, though she didn’t know what she was looking for. Her gaze fell on the cardigan draped over the back of Sharai’s chair. Was that . . . ? Yes! Pockets! Nora reached in one pocket, then the other—and drew out a ring of keys.

  The third one opened the desk drawer, revealing hundreds of papers, covered in typed text. She didn’t have time to read any of them, nor space to carry them all, so she grabbed a handful, folded them in half, and shoved them into the waistband of her pants. Her jacket was loose enough to cover the bulge. She closed the drawer and locked it, then put the keys back.

  Again, hysterical laughter threatened to emerge from her mouth. She shoved it down and rushed back into the outer office—just in time for the receptionist’s return.

  The man nearly jumped when he saw Nora. “What were you doing in the minister’s office?”

  Heat entered Nora’s face, but she shrugged, trying to stay relaxed. “I thought I’d wait in there. I was checking to see if you were back.” Noting the suspicious look in the receptionist’s eyes, she catalyzed her magic. Just a precaution.

  The receptionist took a step back, his body blocking the outer doorway. “Due to last week’s break-in, I’ve been instructed to report any intruders to the minister’s office. Sky above, why didn’t I lock that door?” He pointed at a chair. “Please sit, Your Highness.” His gruff tone belied his polite words.

  Where’d the intimidated receptionist go? Nora forced her mo
uth into a calming smile. “I’m sure that edict doesn’t cover a member of the royal family.”

  “Anyone. It doesn’t matter who your father is.”

  Nora’s breathing turned shallow as she stared at the man in front of her. He was close to twice her size and could overwhelm her in seconds if he wanted to. He wouldn’t go that far though . . . would he?

  “I’m going to fetch a guard,” the receptionist said. “But first, sit.” He stepped toward her with one arm extended, like he was about to guide her—or force her—into the chair. His eyes were alive with panic. He’d messed up by leaving her alone. He’d make things worse if he let her go.

  Almost before Nora knew what she was doing, she lifted her palms and shot a stream of ice downward. A small, slick spot formed in front of the receptionist’s feet.

  His forehead furrowed, but he didn’t stop coming for her. One of his big boots hit the ice. He slipped, his foot continuing forward while the rest of him toppled backwards. He landed with a crash and a grunt.

  Immediately, he started to push himself up. Nora ran toward the door, aiming a ball of ice over her shoulder at him, hoping it hit him somewhere—anywhere.

  His groan was a lot louder this time. Nora rushed out. As she slammed the door behind her, she glimpsed the man holding his groin. Oops. She hadn’t been aiming there in particular, but it had done the trick.

  She ran down the hall, her mind racing as fast as her feet. I broke into the office and hurt the receptionist. They’ll find these papers on me. I’ll be grounded for eternity. Maybe disinherited. Within seconds, her thoughts all converged on one point. I have to get out of here.

  The first hallway was empty, but the next one wasn’t. “What’s wrong?” multiple staff members asked as she ran by them.

  “Minister Sharai’s receptionist!” she replied, panting. “He’s sick!”

  She kept repeating the message as she ran, leaving chaos behind her. Several people responded by hurrying toward Sharai’s office.

  Guards at the front doors stood up straighter as Nora approached. “What’s wrong, Your Highness?”

  She stopped long enough to repeat the message about the receptionist, adding, “I know someone who can help! I’ll be back!” She threw open the front door and continued her sprint. The outdoor guards yelled questions, but she ignored them. Before long, they’d know what happened. Everyone at the palace would be looking for her. She had to be gone by then.

  Nora didn’t have time for a fancy escape plan. She couldn’t hide her tracks or create an alibi. Instead, she ran, all the way through the garden and to the stone fence.

  It loomed above her, tall and intimidating. Ignoring a caynin who loped up to greet her, Nora knelt before the fence, the papers in her waistband crinkling.

  Krey’s advice ran through her mind. Keep your magical passages tight. Just as she’d been practicing, she tensed her chest and arms.

  Aim. She’d been working on that too. Fingers bent at ninety degrees, she shot a narrow ladder rung onto the stone wall. It worked!

  She moved up, setting the rungs as far apart as she dared, glancing behind her every few seconds. Her handle-shaped rungs were lopsided and small, not nearly as pretty as Krey’s. But they were thick, and they stuck to the stone.

  She began to climb, adding handle-rungs as she went. Her mind insisted she was about to fall. Her heart hammered madly. She tried to ignore them both.

  When she reached the top, she was so out of breath that she feared she’d pass out. Stopping, however, wasn’t an option. Nora covered the barbed wire in a wide, rough blob of ice.

  “Princess Nora! Come down!” a distant voice called.

  Trembling, Nora grabbed onto the ice covering the wire. Her stomach lurched with effort and anxiety as she pulled herself up to the last ladder rung. There were no guards in sight on the other side of the fence, thank the sky.

  She didn’t have anywhere near enough fuel to make a Krey-style slide. Her mind had chewed on this problem the whole time she was making the ladder rungs, and only one idea seemed doable.

  Despite the shouts, which were getting closer, Nora leaned over. Her belly rested on the ice blob she’d created over the barbed wire. Dizziness overtook her, but she ignored it. She held her hands out, pointed her fingers, tightened her pathways, and aimed.

  She used every bit of her remaining fuel to create a small ledge halfway down the outer face of the fence. It was just big enough for her to crouch on. Hopefully it was strong enough to hold her.

  “Your Highness! Stop!”

  The shout was just mets away. Nora scrambled to crouch on the ice topping the fence, turning herself around as she did so. She found two slick handholds and dropped her body over the opposite side. Her gut screamed at her, insisting she was about to fall.

  This time, her fears were well founded. Her fingers slipped, and she dropped.

  She landed hard, but she was on the ledge, not the ground. Her knees would be bruised, but nothing was broken.

  “Climb!” one of the guards shouted from the other side of the fence.

  A high-pitched moan exited Nora’s throat as she gazed down. She was still two-and-a-half mets off the ground, and she didn’t dare jump off. With brisk, sure movements, she repeated her action from before. Turn. Hang on. Dangle. Drop.

  Now her knees weren’t just bruised; they were bleeding. And her wrist hurt. But her ankles were fine; that was what mattered. Nora turned to run, then heard a guard shout, “Stop!” This time, the fence didn’t muffle the voice. Nora turned and saw a guard pulling himself up, trying to get on top of the mound of ice she’d left behind on the fence.

  She halted and shouted, “I’m going to let the ice go! It’ll crumble! Climb back down! I don’t want to hurt you!”

  “Why are you running?”

  She didn’t answer.

  “Come on, Nora!” The guard was one she’d known for at least ten years. He smiled. “Please, come back. Running’ll just make it worse.”

  “I’m sorry!” she shouted, and she meant it. “I’m releasing the ice in five seconds. One—”

  “Help me down!” the guard shouted to his colleague behind him.

  Nora gave him more than five seconds. When she figured he was close enough to the ground not to hurt himself, she released the ice. It crumbled into tiny chips.

  She sprinted into the trees.

  19

  My parents flew across the world in great machines called solarplanes. Such trips were inconceivable to children who’d never traveled in anything faster than a wagon pulled by two lazy orsas.

  We couldn’t visit the rest of the world, but we did learn about it through the stories of traveling traders. Many had traversed our entire continent. We even met two who claimed to have sailed across the ocean.

  The traders’ tales confirmed that magical people and creatures exist all over the planet. Some storytellers claimed to have visited magical places too. They described meadows that sang, rivers that divided so the worthy could cross, and fruit that would extend the life of the one who ate it.

  I don’t know if I believe in such magical locations. I hope some of them are real.

  -The First Generation: A Memoir by Liri Abrios

  There’s no way I can reach the city before the guards do. Lungs and legs burning, Nora ran through the wooded area, toward the road. Some of them will search the area around the palace. Others will go to the city. They’ll find Krey, because Aunt Dani will think that’s where I’m going.

  How long would it take for them to start chasing her? The guards who’d seen her go over the fence would run to tell the others. Some would set out on foot; some would take orsas. She had a three- to five-minute head start, not nearly enough time to stay ahead of mounted guards.

  She quickly reached the road. When she got there, she looked to the right, toward the palace gate.

  No one was coming. Yet.

  She crossed the road and kept running into a field of hardy, winter greens. A farmhouse
and outbuildings sat beyond the field. The barn beckoned her, but there was no way she’d reach it before guards entered the road.

  Only one thing to do. She ran a couple of dozen mets, hopping over one row of greens after another. Then she lay flat on the cold soil between two rows, parallel to the road, praying the guards wouldn’t see her.

  Her breathing hadn’t had time to slow before she heard the rapid footsteps and urgent voices of guards. They approached—and passed her.

  Nora lifted her head and watched through the plants as three guards ran to the farmhouse. They entered the house for several minutes. During that time, six mounted guards passed on orsas, likely headed toward the city.

  The guards exited the farmhouse and separated, walking into various outbuildings. When they finished, they’d probably search the field. Where can I go? She scanned the area, her gaze fixing on a long line of people waiting to enter the chapel. Did she dare?

  I don’t have another choice. Nora stood, put up her hood, and swiped dirt off her clothes. She jogged to the road, joining the back of the line and keeping her head down. Before The Day, the daughter of a nation’s leader would’ve had her face plastered all over screens. Now, newspapers published drawings of various quality, but Nora knew from previous escapes that people often didn’t recognize her. Her hood should help too.

  Soon, a group of three people on push scooters pulled into the line behind Nora. She ignored them, keeping her arms folded and gaze low.

  Within half an hour, another mounted team of two left the palace. The guards who’d gone into the farmhouse split up, moving toward neighboring properties. Nora stepped out of the line. The people behind her glanced up, then returned to their conversation. She crossed the street and entered the field of greens again.

  This time, she walked farther into the field, keeping her back to the palace. When she was confident the fence guards were too far away to recognize her, she turned at a furrow between two rows and walked parallel to the street.