Frosted (Frosted #1 | Jackunzel)

{ Chapter Six }

Rapunzel couldn't stop picturing it. Beautiful, and crystal white, and so incredibly small. Her imagination was as vivid as could be, but this had to have been real. Surely her desperation for Jack Frost and freedom hadn't reached a level of insanity, had it? Was she becoming like the monsters outside?

A sudden fear gripped at her heart. If she was seeing things, she should inform Mother immediately. Rapunzel knew it; it was one of Mother's rules. If you see anything out of the ordinary, tell me. The infection may have gotten to you somehow. Still, she kept her mouth shut even as she watched Mother go. She'd tell her first thing in the morning.

Rapunzel stood only when the door fully closed. She walked slowly around the room, lighting candle after candle as she went. Revealing every dark corner that she could. It was only when she was done that she walked back to her bed, stood still a rock, and said in whisper overflowing with hope:

"Jack?"

When nothing came, her hope flared brighter, stronger.

"Jack Frost? I... I summon you," she tried when more quiet met her, "to reveal yourself." It was a lame effort, even she knew it. But she was certain she'd read something about spirits needing to be summoned in some way, in one of her books. And unless she'd misunderstood The Guardians of Childhood, Jack Frost was indeed a winter spirit. Though he was present, he couldn't be seen unless children believed. Rapunzel's eighteenth birthday was in but a few days. In technical terms, she wasn't an adult just yet, making her chances of seeing him that much more stronger. And surely she hadn't imagined the snowflake kissing her wrist. The delicate sting of the cold had been very, very real.

"I know you're here," he tried again.

Something shifted in the air behind her. Rapunzel stilled. She couldn't quite explain it, but the room felt different now, as if something within had changed. As if there was a new presence in the room. It was awfully similar to how she felt when the dark man visited her. For a moment, as she turned around, she expected to see him instead. Though this boy was equally as tall and slender, he sported a long, crooked staff, no shoes, and a shock of messy, snow-white hair.

Rapunzel's heart beat furiously—and for once, not with fear. With anticipation. She recognized him from the pictures in her book. She'd summoned him! Finally! Like a wicked witch from her stories.

Reality suddenly caught up to her. The yelp escaped her throat before she could stop it, and she realized with a jolt that she was indeed afraid. She snatched Pascal from her bed and ran hard for the small nook of a kitchen. She flattened herself against the wall as if he hadn't seen her run right past him. Perhaps his eyes couldn't process quick movements and she'd been but a blur! Perhaps the dark was playing tricks on her again and she'd really just imagined him. Perhaps it was the dark man playing more tricks on her.

With movements as slow as a sloth, Rapunzel glanced around the wall. No. He was solid and there. Jack Frost! He breathed something unintelligible as he gazed at her hair, held up to eye level by the hook of his wooden staff.

Her hair.

Another short yelp escaped her. Rapunzel jumped back behind the stone wall and pulled hard at her hair until all of it was securely bunched up into her arms. But she knew it was too late—if he hadn't seen her before, he had now. Rapunzel had to face her fear; she'd wanted him to come so badly, hadn't she? And now he was here. He'd answered her thousandth prayer and here she was, ruining it with her utter lack of capabilities.

Hesitantly, hair still in her arms, Rapunzel stepped out from behind the wall. Jack's sharp, ice blue eyes immediately found her. It was startling—she'd never seen eyes of that colour, so pale and striking. The memory of the snowflake rushed back to her. Snow! She'd really touched snow!