AllFreeNovel
Share Us
"You'll ride with me." He says, shoving his boot into the stirrup and hoisting himself up to settle behind me.
"I'll ride my own horse," I protest as his chest presses against my back.
"And when she bucks you off and you break an arm?" He shakes his head. "I promise to teach you to ride one day, but a four-day journey isn't the time to test your stubborn will."
"The others might say something," I say in hushed tones.
His lips brush my ear when he leans forward to grab the reigns, "Then let them talk."
His arm slips around my waist and his palm lands on my stomach, securing me on the horse. With the other hand, he tugs the beast, signaling our departure. I dare a glance at our companions and catch Eris and Nyx grinning at each other, as if they knew something like this was bound to happen. There's no use fighting it, so I lean into Atlas' chest and accept my fate. I'm sure I'll get teased about this encounter at the first opportune moment, but I'd be a liar if I said his pine and leather scent didn't set my soul on fire. Now the real challenge: keeping my thoughts and feelings from making my hands glow.
Instead of trotting through the main drag of the city, we take the path Atlas showed me through the Old Kingdom. Once we reach the woods, instead of going straight, we cut to the right and head north. I'm struck with wonder as the terrain changes the further we get from the crescent shaped city of Tronovia. The forest changes from thick and green to autumnal with the leaves boasting red, orange, yellow and purple. The weather also begins to transform once the snowcapped mountains come into view, from a pleasant cool to a bitter cold.
Apart from setting up camp and eating whatever Finn roasts over the fire, our journey is mostly on horseback. The horse I was supposed to ride solo is still accompanying us, but instead of carrying me, she bears some of the supplies and seems happier for it.
Towards the end of the third day, we make camp, with promise that tomorrow morning we'll finish the last couple hours of the trip to the lakeside cabin. Thank the Stars! I don't think I can last much longer traveling on horseback. For one, my ass is sore, and my back feels like I have a hundred needles pricking me. And two, I don't know how much longer I can concentrate on keeping my hands from glowing while pressed against Atlas for eight to ten hours a day.
Apart from inconsequential inconveniences, there is one thing I'm very fond of while camping, and it's our bonfire storytelling sessions. Over the last couple of nights, the Harland brothers have taken turns telling spooky tales they heard as children, but tonight, Ronan is telling us about the time he went hunting with his father and saw a ghost. I've never personally seen one, but I feel like if all the creatures Professor Riggs has taught me about existed at one point in time, then I'm sure ghosts might, too.
Once we've eaten our fill of Finn's hearty rabbit stew, Atlas goes for his nightly walk to check the surrounding area before we all settle down for the evening. Eris busies herself helping Finn with the empty dishes, using her affinity to clean everything we used, while Ronan and Nyx arm-wrestle to see who has to take the first watch.
I'm tired of sitting, so I hop up to stretch my legs. I know better than to wander off by myself, so I stick to the area where I'm still within sight, to examine the intricately carved rocks we passed earlier. There seem to be hundreds of these boulders clustered together and if my eyes aren't deceiving me, I could swear the carvings look like faces. Different expressions of pain or anger plastered for all to see. How odd not to make at least a few of these rocks smiling or laughing. They all look so ominous, and it sends a little shiver down my spine.
"You alright?" Ronan startles me enough to make me jump. "Sorry," he chuckles. "Didn't mean to frighten you."
"It's fine." Without taking my eyes from the rock, I ask, "Who carved these?"
"Carved what?"
An irritated huff escapes my lips. How does he not notice the markings? I wave my hand in front of the boulders, "Those faces in the rocks."
He blinks at me as if I've said the most insane thing in the world. "Those aren't carvings," he points where I'm staring. "Those are Frost Giants."
"Frost Giants?" Skepticism mars my face. "If this is like your ghost story – "
"First of all," he cuts me off with a semi-serious frown, "I did see a ghost, but that's beside the point." He shifts to make himself comfortable before starting his tale. "Hundreds of years ago, the Frost Giants roamed these lands, terrorizing humans and Frost Elves alike. The Frost King called upon his magical kin, and the Tronovians, his strongest ally, to fight back. Seeing they were losing the battle, the Frost King made the decision to use his magic to freeze the giants on the battlefield. Expending that much of his magic nearly killed him, but he ended the bloodbath and saved those who remained."
I glance at Nyx, who joined us just as Ronan began talking, for confirmation. When he nods, I turn back to Ronan. "He must have been extremely powerful to do this."
"From my understanding, he's still just as powerful, albeit cranky in his old age."
"Are you saying he's still alive?" My mouth drops.
Ronan bobs his head, "Armas Basilius is still King of the Frost Elves and is our host for the next few weeks."
After I stare at the rocks for what they are – frozen Frost Giants – we collectively turn and head back toward the bonfire where Eris and Finn are sipping on some hot cocoa.
"Do you think King Armas will help me find out why I have Frost Elf features?"
The prince barks out a laugh and shakes his head. "The Frost King isn't known for being helpful, and in the off chance he is feeling generous, he will want you to offer him something you value most. There's a slim chance you might be able to persuade Thrane to help you though."
"Thrane?"
"Thrane Basilius is King Armas' grandson. His father died in the Great War making him the heir to the Frost Throne."
"He's a horse's ass, if you ask me," Nyx huffs.
"He is conniving," Ronan agrees without missing a beat, "and he's certainly unbothered by the troubles of others, but from what I've heard about him, he's never turned his back to a pretty face." His eyebrows bounce playfully and my stomach sours at the thought of what kind of favor the elf prince would want in return for aiding me.
