FROST- Jotun Chronicles #1

Lessons with Lief

I move through the dreamscape easily. This time I’m aware of myself. I know I’m Megan, but I’m also Amora, a part of me I know intimately. My brothers and sisters around me ready themselves for battle, and the high whine of metal against stone fills my ears. We sharpen our swords…

                In two days’ time we will march on our enemies. We cannot allow the black one to scorch the earth as the prophecy foretells. We cannot allow Ragnarok to come about. I picture my Queen’s face, telling me how proud she is, telling me I am destined to bring about their downfall and save us all. That the prophecy speaks of me when it refers to “royal blood and the last battle”.

                The grip of my sword is warm in my hand, leather molded to fit my fingers alone. I raise the sword and press the flat side to my brow, honoring our ancestors, swearing I will make them proud. I will make my mother proud.

 

                The harsh buzz of the alarm clock jerked my eyes open, and I gasped. There was someone’s arm in front of my face. I leaned away and the arm dropped down. My arm. Why the hell had I just been holding my hand up to my face?

                “Weird dreams,” I muttered, and glanced over at Charlotte. She was still completely dead to the world in spite of the alarm. Snoring with her mouth open, her blonde hair in a halo around her head.

                “Lucky,” I swung my legs over the side of the bed and forced myself to shuffle to the bathroom. Making the shower extra hot, I washed my hair slowly, thinking about my upcoming training as I scrubbed the suds through. Dread was making my stomach gurgle unpleasantly, and I suspected that I would have to go without breakfast today. I rinsed out the last of the conditioner and stepped out, rubbing the mist off the mirror with the corner of my towel.

                What did Prince Lief see when he looked at me? I saw hair that had gone too white for my liking, bright blue eyes full of worry….and he saw, what? A threat? Maybe he’d already guessed what his mother told me. Maybe he knew I wasn’t just here to fight, that I was here to usurp his throne. Because that’s what I was, really, when you thought about it. A usurper.

                I snorted and turned away from my reflection. What the hell kind of word was that anyways? It sounded like…like someone who tested soups for a living or something.  Right, think enough weird thoughts and you’ll distract yourself from what’s about to happen, good job Megan. Or do I think of myself as Amora now? My head was beginning to hurt, so I dismissed the thought and went to pick out an outfit. Combing through the wardrobe I mostly found dresses and skirts, but there was no way I was going to show up wearing a freakin’ skirt. Lief would probably laugh his stupid head off. Luckily, hanging at the back of the armoire was a pair of black wide legged pants made of light cotton. I grabbed the hanger, stripped off my night gown and pulled the pants on. They fit pretty well, and flowed around my legs when I moved. Perfect. I grabbed a cotton tank top out of the drawer. It still had lace on it, but it was one of the only non-dressy ones in there. Then I tied my hair up in a sloppy bun, took a deep breath and opened the door. Stepping out into the hall I tried to remember where the training room was. The girls hadn’t taken us that far.

                The corridor was mostly empty this early in the morning, and my sneakers made little tapping sounds on the ice floors that sounded loud in the stillness. I hesitated when the passage way in front of me split. Had Amy taken us down the right one? I seemed to remember it vaguely.  Even though I was feeling petrified at the thought of seeing Lief again, I was almost relieved when I rounded the corner and the hallway ended in the big double doors of the training room.