Betrothed to Jack Frost (REWRITTEN)

16)The Lion, The Witch, and...Wait, There's a Lion?

"Decode" by Paramore
***

Jack wasn't a bad person. That was the lesson Elle gleaned from her bizarre trip down memory lane the night before last. How it had happened, she couldn't quite explain, but she knew it was real. If she were simply back home, she would dismiss the experience as illogical and impossible. But she wasn't in her old world anymore. She was in a realm where the fantastical was real—where beings with magical abilities sat on thrones of gold and ice, calling themselves gods. They could appear and disappear as easily as one blinks. Given that, it wasn't far-fetched that Jack Frost could make her relive memories and show her some of his own.

Elle had missed Jack's attempt to reveal that she had no hope of escaping the prophecy. In her mind, the lesson was that Jack Frost wasn't as cold-hearted as she had once believed.

He was undeniably peculiar if he genuinely thought death was a preferable option for her over living, but she could understand his perspective. He had lost everything the night his brothers had tried to kill him. They had murdered his family. He didn't want young Elle to suffer the same fate he had endured. Elle hadn't seen Jack the day after the strange dream. Instead, she was subjected to a series of courtesy lessons that a member of the royal family was expected to learn before coronation. The day dragged on interminably. She had hoped to see Jack at some point, but he did not appear at any of the family meals or events. The following morning's breakfast with the royal family was an exercise in awkward restraint for Elle. King Boreas, with his distant but semi-friendly demeanor, was absent—tied up in important meetings for the day. Without him, the table felt emptier, the silences heavier.

The difference between yesterday and today was the reappearance of Jack Frost. As usual, he was clad in his distinctive navy attire, the uniform that seemed to define him. Its sharp lines and rich color contrasted starkly against his pale complexion and frost-dusted hair, giving him an aura of icy authority that Elle found both unnerving and, somehow, captivating. He strode into the dining hall without a word, his presence commanding attention without needing to demand it. Elle kept her gaze fixed firmly on her plate, though the temptation to glance in his direction was almost unbearable. She could sense him settling into his seat at the far end of the table, the faint scrape of his chair against the polished floor sending a ripple of tension through her.

Her mind churned with questions she had no idea how to ask. Why had he taken on the guise of a young boy to show her memories? What was his motive? Jack didn't seem the type to do anything without reason. Every action, every word he uttered, felt calculated. Elle's appetite was nonexistent. She prodded at the food on her plate, pushing bits of it around in an attempt to appear engaged. The sparkling silver utensils in her hand felt absurdly heavy as her thoughts spiraled. How was she supposed to broach the subject with him? Jack intimidated her in ways that no one else could. His sharp wit, his icy demeanor, the way he always seemed to know more than he let on—it all left her at a disadvantage. If she brought it up, would he deny it outright? Dismiss her curiosity with a mocking laugh? Or perhaps he'd wield one of his barbs, cutting her down with a few well-chosen words before brushing her aside like she was nothing.

The thought made her stomach tighten, and she glanced up briefly, stealing a look at the other end of the table. Jack was there, his silver-gray eyes fixed somewhere in the middle distance, his expression unreadable as he stirred the tea in his cup. For a moment, she allowed herself to study him. His face, carved with sharp angles, seemed almost too perfect, too cold, like a statue brought to life. Yet there was something else beneath the frost—a flicker of something unspoken, something she couldn't quite define. It was maddening. Elle's gaze darted back to her plate when she caught the faintest flicker of movement from Jack's direction. Had he noticed her watching him? Heat bloomed in her cheeks at the possibility, and she focused intently on her untouched breakfast, determined not to give him any further reason to notice her.
"You are not eating, Evangeline," Khione remarked, her frown evident. "Did a kitchen keeper make a mistake?"