Cressida's whole world is one frozen prison.
The land of Narnia was long ago plunged into eternal winter by the White Witch, Jadis Queen of Narnia. The powerful sorceress who stole Cressida from her home and her people. Cressida is little more than...
Jadis' grand palace is more akin to a fortress. Wrought iron, with twisting spires, barred windows and entirely covered in ice. The gates loom above me as I walk into the central courtyard.
The statues that greet me are grotesque, the final expressions of Jadis' victims permanently etched in stone. What once were living, breathing beings, the witch turns into cold, dead stone. Though I've found I can mostly block out the sight of the stone garden I always notice the new editions.
Today I counted three.
I turn to my right heading away from the main doors towards the servant's entrance.
"Halt." Cracks through the air.
Damn.
I turn slowly, pulling my cloak aside so the train splays across the ground. I across my hands delicately in front of me, the picture of elegant disregard.
"Maugrim." I greet the large grey and black wolf stalking towards me.
Maugrim is huge. Jadis' right hand is not the average wolf. His stature, intelligence and brutality make him far from normal.
"What are you doing slinking back in through the servant's door." He growls.
"No pleasantries today, Maugrim?"
"I don't have the patience for your insolence girl."
"Not that it's any of your business, but I was simply returning from a walk. It's almost sunset; I figured Her Majesty would be entertaining; I didn't want to interrupt."
"Everything happening in this palace is my business," he snaps, "and, as it happens, the Queen requires your presence." Maugrim commands, his voice a deep growl.
"Why?"
"It's not your place to ask. Get to the throne room now." He snarls.
"Very well, always a pleasure Maugrim." I set my shoulders back and move past the wolf.
A snarl and frustrated snapping of jaws echo behind me. Maugrim knows how much I detest him. If I wasn't technically under Jadis' protection, he would have torn my throat out years ago for all the indignation I show him. He knows I'm not scared of him, and he hates it.
I hoist up the skirts of my gown as I climb the main stairs. I know Jadis will be holding court, meaning I won't just be facing her but all her courtiers as well.
The doors sweep open on silent hinges, the air so cold it condenses into fog and billows out around my ankles. Most of the interior of the palace is made of ice; the rest is made of the same dark iron as the exterior.
The entry hall is empty, but I can hear music and chattered conversation coming from the throne room. I turn to the dwarf by the door, a footman of sorts,
"Fetch my lady's maid, please, and ask her to bring a new pair of shoes."
His beady eyes rove me critically before he runs off. I wait only a few moments before Ephemei rounds a corner. Ephemei is a dryad, beautiful and graceful, distantly related to my own people, the naiads. While some dryads are willingly in Jadis' service, Ephemei – like me – is a prisoner.
She helps me slip on the heeled shoes and passes off the snow-sodden flats to a passing imp. She falls into step behind me, and I make my way towards the large doors to the throne room.
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Jadis extends her pale hand towards me, the courtiers around us falling quiet with only the odd whispered word slithering its way through the crowd. Some of her beastly court sneer as I pass. Others look hungry with desire, their eyes roving over my flesh. At this moment I'm glad of my gown and long cloak.
I reach the dais, taking the steps quickly. Jadis towers over me as I slip my hand into hers, dipping into a low curtsy. I keep my head down, legs burning as I wait for her to speak.
"Resume." Her cold voice commands.
Dark and lilting music fills the hall, and the crowd recommences their mingling.
"Rise, child." Jadis offers.
I stand stiffly, head still bowed. Demure and quiet. Jadis beckons me to walk with her and dismisses Ephemei.
"Where have you been today?" She asks.
"I took a walk through the wood, your Majesty. The icicles are particularly beautiful this time of year." I answer as we pass the last of the courtiers and move out of the throne room.
"Now, give me the real answer."
"I really did take a walk, Your Majesty, I swear it." I answer quickly.
I can feel Jadis' cold stare bore into me; I keep my gaze straight ahead and wait for her to speak.
"Did you see our new editions?" She asks.
My skin bristles, and my spine goes ramrod straight.
"Yes, your majesty, I had noted them."
"Good, good," she pauses, "then you must also have noted that I haven't gone soft."
I turn to her, a little confused, but before I can speak, her large hand wraps around my chin. Long slender fingers digging into my face. With one shove, my back is against the nearest wall. The ice, cold and unforgiving behind me.
"When I ask questions, Cressida, I expect the truth. Don't test me, girl."
"I've told you the truth, I swear." I stutter, fear seizing in my chest.
"Is it a male?"
"What? I don't understand."
"Have you been consorting with a male? Planning an escape?" She demands.
"No, no, never." I stammer.
Her grip on my face is unfaltering as she considers my response.
"Good, you know what would await any conspirators to such a plot." She says darkly. "And that freedom you so covet would be gone. Permanently."
My breath is ragged, and the cold of the ice wall behind me begins to bite into my skin. I feel a few warm drops of blood on my face as Jadis' nails pierce the skin.
"Am I understood?" The calm control has returned to her voice.
"Yes, Your Majesty." I breathe, dipping my eyes to the floor.
"Good girl." She releases my face and brushes a lock of hair away from my eyes.
I try not to flinch.
"You have just been so absent of late, we don't want the court whispering, do we?"
I shake my head. Jadis beckons me to follow, waltzing off towards the grand staircase, as though she hadn't just threatened to lock me up once again. She pauses at the bottom step.
"Get changed and have that dryad of yours clean your face; I expect you back by six."
"Clean or heal your majesty?"
"Clean only; I want those marks visible, at least for tonight."
I dip low into a curtsey and ascend the stairs, anger coiling low in my stomach.
