Page 8 of Jilted By Jack Frost

And that is that.

Chapter four

Violet

The second I step into the castle behind Jack Frost—Jack Motherfucking Frost—he snaps his fingers and a servant appears. “Take her,” he says simply.

“Where?” the servant replies.

“Anywhere.” Then he strides off and leaves me there, alone with one of his maids who looks just as confused about my presence as I am.

She clears her throat and says, “Well, alright. I suppose you should follow me, then?”

She says it like a question, like she’s not sure I’ll agree. But seeing as I have no idea what the hell is even going on, I nod and follow her as she leadsme down a long hallway.

Too nonchalantly to be truly casual, she says, “I don’t believe I’ve seen you around before, miss. Do you come from a different village?”

I can’t help but laugh. “I’m from a differentplanet.”

She’s quiet for a long moment. “Oh. That sounds terribly lonely, if you don’t mind me saying.”

I realize then that she’s right. I’ve been here an hour at most, but it is cripplingly lonely, knowing that every person I’ve ever known isn’t even on the same plane of existence as I am right now. A cold that has nothing to do with this kingdom of ice settles into my bones, my heart.

I am alone. Trapped, and alone. I wanted adventure, yes, but this is far different from a twelve-hour plane ride. This isn’t like that time I backpacked through Europe after college, where home was just a phone call away. Here, I might as well be dead to everyone I love.

I have a feeling it’ll be a hell of a lot longer than that before I get back to Earth. I doubt this is the kind of easy fix Jack seems to be praying it is.

Shit, I’m praying too, and I haven’t set foot in a church since I was twelve.

Maybe I should be soaking it in. Maybe I should think about how, even if not exactly in the way that I hoped, I did get what I wanted.

I have the adventure that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about for as long as I can remember now. I don’t have to trudge through work pretending that I still love my job, feeling guilty because I don’t.

Maybe I’m trapped here, but maybe I should make the best of it despite that. After all, how many people get to say they’ve seen an actual magical ice kingdom? Even ifit comes with a brooding ice king who looks at me like I’m something he scraped off his boot.

While Jack finds a way to get me out of here, I’ll play the part of the tourist. Seems like I’ll have nothing better to do while I’m here, anyway.

“I’m Cora.” The servant sticks a hand towards me. “Perhaps while you’re here, I can be your friend. Try to make you feel a little less lonely.”

Gently, I meet her hand with mine and shake it. “I’m Violet,” I tell her. “And I would like that very much.”

“Great!” She beams. “Then, as your newfound friend, I’m hoping you won’t mind me saying that you look like you could use a bath. And a change of clothes.”

“Yes, please.” I look down at myself with an exhausted laugh. Then I think better of it and add quickly, “You guys have warm water, right?”

Cora snorts. “Yes, we have warm water. But if you’re cold, I might be able to get the alchemist to create an elixir for you. Something to keep your temperature up.”

Gratitude fills me. “Really? That would beamazing.”

She nods happily. “I’m on it.”

Then Cora pulls open a door on the right side of the hallway and gestures inside. I step inside, and it takes everything in me to keep my jaw from dropping.

You shouldn’t be so impressed, I remind myself.You’re standing in a fucking castle.In another country—another world.

There’s an intricately carved four-poster bed made of beautiful dark wood pressed against one wall, gossamer and tulle loosely stretched from each post to the other,creating beautiful waves of creamy, soft whites, like freshly fallen snow.

Matching furniture takes up place along the other walls—an armoire that sits just beside a window framed with billowing lace curtains, a desk with an oil lantern sat atop it, the wick inside black with use. A velvet couch so blue it reminds me of sinking deep into the ocean’s depths. A door with wood just as dark as the furniture is on that same wall.