FROST- Jotun Chronicles #1

Prophecies and Memories

Lunch in the great hall was always an ordeal.  Food was served to us on silver platters (literally) by servants who flitted soundlessly by, and you’re served up roast goose or stuffed lamb or something equally extravagant, sometimes without even seeing the person who just gave it to you.  You would think I’d feel like royalty, but as I sat at the long table wedged between Charlotte and Amy I felt anything but.

                Instead, I felt eyes burning into the back of my neck. The full blooded Jotun made a careful point of not looking at us half-bloods when we walked into the dining hall, but as soon as my back was turned it was apparently fair game, because I swear I could feel my skin prickle as their eyes roamed over me, judging and scornful.  I just narrowed my eyes at my plate and refuse to duck my head, even though instinct told me to do so.  I glanced across from me and receive a glare from my own table, another half-blood like me, a girl with pale blue eyes and a scar across one cheek. I shrugged at her, as if to say, “what?” and she looked away. I looked down the length of our table, at the rest of us. There were about fifty or so girls and boys, all with pale skin and fair hair, other “warriors”, each training for battle in their own groups every day. None of them would talk to me either. I had asked Amy about it the other day, and she’d whispered that they were jealous, calling me “the Queen’s favorite half-blood” as if that were some kind of grave insult. When Amy said it a little half smile had played over her lips, as if she’d enjoyed delivering the hurtful message, just a little bit. Something told me she wasn’t immune to the jealousy either.

                “Amora.”

                I turned at the cheerful deep voice. Erik was approaching the table, and Charlotte gave him a big smile and scooted over to one side. The bench creaked under his weight as Erik settled in between us.

                “How was training with the Prince?”

                I grimaced and shoved a forkful of roast into my mouth to avoid bad mouthing the prince in a room full of frost giants. It didn’t seem wise.

                “That bad, huh?” Erik made a sympathetic face at me, “sorry to hear that.”

                “Are you crazy?” Amy leaned forward over her plate, “I love training. Prince Lief is so amazingly hot! It’s the best part of my day!” She exchanged a look with Becca and they both giggled.

                “He’s horrible, “ Charlotte said sharply, “he’s nasty.”

                I noticed that our conversation was attracting some attention. The scar-faced girl and the boy beside her were looking at us curiously. I shook my head at Charlotte and she subsided, picking at her food sullenly.

                Amy said scornfully, “Oh Charlotte, you’re just jealous that you don’t get lessons with him because you’re too puny.”

                Charlotte stabbed a piece of roast violently, and I reached over Erik to put a warning hand on her arm, “Just ignore her.”

                “What’s this?” Erik suddenly seized my  wrist, rolling back the sleeve of my sweater to expose a series of dark bruises.  I gaped at them, and then tried to tug my arm back from him, but Erik held on. He stared down at me intently, “Amora, what’s this? Did Lief do this?”

                He leaned forward and examined the bruises more closely, “these are finger marks.”

                Finally he let me pull my arm free. I rolled the sleeve back down and shrugged, “It was hand to hand combat. I’m sure everyone gets…”