Frost by Callie Dahl & Jade Church & Jenna Weatherwax & Helena V Paris & Annie Welch

Author:Callie Dahl & Jade Church & Jenna Weatherwax & Helena V Paris & Annie Welch
Language: eng
Format: epub

She dreamed of a snarling white beast with dark eyes and bloody fangs.

She dreamed of its heavy paws, tipped with razor-sharp claws, tearing through soft sheets and feathered headrests.

She dreamed of its weight, muscle and fat, pinning her to the bed and causing her to bleed.

She dreamed of its breath on the back of her neck.

She dreamed of how soft its fur was.

When she woke, she was alone in the bed. The sun was dipping low in the sky and, as she stretched in the dim light, she marveled at the length of her dreams. She must’ve slept the entire day, longer than she ever managed to in the small bed at her family’s home. Truly, if she would’ve even attempted to sleep longer than a short night, she’d have woken up with stiff limbs and an aching neck.

But, today, she woke up feeling refreshed for the first time since she was a child. Rested, she thought, as she observed the room with new eyes. The prisms in the walls and the crackling of the fire and the softness of the sheets below her, the world around her still seemed so impossible, especially as she sat against the pillows, the bed cold beside her.

Where had the woman gone? How long had she been away? She didn’t know. But she would find out.

She gathered her courage and pushed the lush blankets away from her body. Her feet grew cold as soon as they touched the floor. She reached for her satchel to change into something else, but, instead, she found a new dress and warm underclothes laid out for her, as well as fur-lined house shoes.

She dressed herself eagerly, sighing at the feeling of the fabric on her shivering skin, as she thought about her day. Strange, she thought, to start her day at the end of it. Her stomach rumbled and, suddenly, she realized how long it’d been since she ate. Despite the rich foods of her last meal with her family, she was hungry again.

The woman’s words from last night came back to her. The servants, she remembered, would show her around her new home, and maybe that would include the kitchen, as well. Excitement blossomed inside of her at the thought of another meal with bursting fruits and salted meats and filling grains and⁠—

She pushed open the door to the bedroom and, the moment she did, she found herself in a flurry of snowflakes within the halls. As the snow fell around her, she was greeted by a chorus of sweet, small voices singing her name.

“Welcome!” the voices said, coming from no particular direction. No, in fact, quite the opposite. The voices seemed to be coming from everywhere all at once, high in tone but fading in just enough time for the next voice to pick up where the last left off.

The fishmonger's daughter looked all around, but found no servants, no housekeepers, no cleaners. No one at all. But the voices spoke kindly and spoke her name

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