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It was all I could do not to gush. “Truly?”
His gaze met mine again, his still quite serious. “Maybe.”
Maybe? Talk about mixed signals.
“This way.” I guided him out of the kitchen and down the short hall to the living room where Grannie Rose sat on the sofa, skeins of yarn around her and a partly finished mitten in her arthritic hands.
“Heiscute.” Setting aside her knitting, she started to stand.
“Please, don’t get up.” He strode toward her, his hand extended. “I’m Elrik Nivalis.Ithink I’m cute.”
“See?” Grannie chuckled as she stared up at him. “I’m delighted to meet you in person, Elrik. You said you’re an ice lord?”
“Yes, Nivalis is a very old name, though it used to be common among the ice people.” He tapped his muscular forearm. “We all have light blue skin.”
“It’s quite attractive.” Her head tilted. “I’ve met various monsters since they decided to settle among humans, but I don’t believe I’ve ever met an ice lord. If you don’t mind me asking, what kind of monster is that?”
I was as interested in hearing what he had to say as my grandmother.
He waited for me to sit in the chair to Grannie’s right before settling beside my grandmother on the sofa.
His gaze held mine as he spoke. “Long ago, when the world was still young, it’s said there were gods who ruled over the natural elements. Among those deities were those whose hearts matched the cold harshness of winter itself.”
“The ice lords,” Grannie breathed. She loved a good story as much as me.
“This isn’t real, right?” He couldn’t be a true god.
“This is my family’s history as it’s been told for many generations,” he said without a hint of humor in his voice. “I’m real, so . . .”
“Let the poor man finish, Melly,” Grannie said, though sweetly.
She might be stern with those in town, but she’d rarely scolded me. I’d done all I could to please her. After Mom died, the social worker told me I’d probably wind up in foster care. I decided that if anyone took me in, I’d not only behave, but I’d also be the perfect child. Then no one would reject me like my dad did.
“I understand having doubts about ice lord history,” Elrik said. “I’ve certainly shared them with my family.”
“Can you control the weather?” I asked.
“Not so far.” His grin rose before falling. “My family used to live in frozen citadels nestled high within jagged mountain peaks in the coldest regions of Canada, where blizzards roar across the mountains and consume the plains.”
“Amazing.” Grannie’s brown eyes sparkled with excitement.
“It’s said ice lords controlled every flake of snow that fell on the planet, that we created each in its own unique shape. That we formed icicles sharper than swords. That even our homes were made of ice bluer than the Caribbean Sea.”
“It must be true,” Grannie said with a pert nod. “Someone has to do this for our world.”
“My people have been slowly dying out, however.” His gaze sought mine again before returning to my grandmother. “Long ago, we left our ice castles and moved into the valley. We married humans and slowly, the way of the ice lords died out.”
“Aw.” Grannie sighed. “Such a sacrifice to make to continue your species.”
“Not completely. Some of us still maintain a few of the abilities of our forefathers.”
“Do you?” I asked, intrigued. His hands had been cold on my cheeks. When I touched his arm, it felt equally chilly. Was all of him cooler than a human?
“I can’t control the weather, but I can produce this.” He held out his palm, frowning at it, and a small block of ice appeared.
Grannie gasped.
My eyes widened.
