FROST- Jotun Chronicles #1

The Royal Treatment

We walked up the icy pathway, through the courtyard and past the blue fountain. There was a large set of double door leading into the palace. Erik stopped in front and said something to the two guards, who were even taller than the other giants and looked as though they’d been sucking lemons. One stepped to the side, eyes still straight ahead, mouth still in a tight, displeased line. The other grabbed the silver ring set in the left side door and pulled, drawing it open so we could pass through. He didn’t look at Charlotte or I once, as if we didn’t even exist.

            We followed Erik through, and found ourselves staring down a long corridor. It was like being inside a chunk of crystal. Light reflected off the ice walls, making it almost blindingly bright. I tipped my head back to look at the  chandelier hanging above us. It was made out of cunningly carved bits of ice that sparkled in the sunlight like a million tiny diamonds.

            Beside me, Charlotte’s breath was coming in white clouds, and she hugged herself and shivered, “Wow, it’s freezing in here.”

            I hadn’t even thought about that. To me it was, well…room temperature in here. Erik stopped long enough to shrug out of his heavy leather jacket and hand it back to Charlotte, who thanked him profusely. He smiled at me,

            “Ready?”

            I nodded, and he took us down the corridor. Up ahead I could hear the sound of trickling water, the low murmur of conversation and classical music playing.  We rounded the corner and the throne room came into view. I actually stopped, and Erik turned to ask if I was okay, but I couldn’t even form words.

            The throne room was massive. There were groups of people standing together, all dressed in sweeping skirts and fur jackets, drinking crimson colored wine and laughing and talking quietly amongst themselves. Along the side of the room was a huge oak table that looked as though it might collapse under the sheer amount of food it carried. Just staring for several seconds I spotted roast turkey on a silver platter, crystal bowls full of Caesar salad and a multi leveled, white frosted cake. My mouth watered.

            At the end of the room was the throne on a raised dais, a huge chair carved out of solid ice. The back shot up in spikes, and there were carvings on the clear surface down either side and on both arm rests. The woman that sat on the throne drew my eyes instantly. There was a lot going on in the room, people laughing, calling out to one another, even a team of fur clad musicians in the corner, but no one was more eye- catching than the Queen. Her face was perfect and pale, as if it were etched out of pure ivory. Her lips were bright red and her black lashes tipped in frost. Her hair was pulled back in an elaborated braided updo, and a white headdress curled around her face and rose up out of her pale hair in jagged peeks.

            Erik took my hand gently and gave it a reassuring squeeze, “Don’t worry, she’ll be ecstatic to see you.”

            I nodded, and he started to walk into the throne room, so I squared my shoulders and took a deep breath and followed him. Charlotte trailed after me, remarking on how beautiful everything was. As I followed Erik through the crowds, my sneakers making tiny squeaking sounds on the floor, the people we walked by began to fall silent. I had the uncomfortable sensation that everyone had begun to notice us, and now they were all turning to stare.

            It was intimidating, walking through crowds of marble-skinned, blonde haired giants. It seemed like every single one of them was staring at us with bright blue eyes, weighing in, judging, analyzing every bit of us. What could they be thinking?

            At last we were in front of the throne, and Erik gave the Queen a low bow, bending at the waist and dipping his head towards he floor. I tried to copy him, but mine was more of a clumsy head bob than a bow. That was alright though, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to bow to anyone. It seemed too medieval. Upon closer inspection I could see the carvings on the throne were faces, detailed to the point of being eerie. Men and women with their mouths wide open in silent screams and war cries. The arms of the throne were two ice warriors, crouched in battle, spears at the ready. The Queen’s arms rested on their backs.