Page 22 of A Requiem of Fire and Ice

As I dig a hole, I watch Mother. She claps her hands together, and pink essence slithers from her fingertips. My jaw drops as the ice slips over the neighbour’s skin, encasing her in a solid pink cocoon.

The power Mother possesses surrounds her, and once the woman is enveloped, the pink light crumbles into dust.

Does her body decay, or is it eternal?

“How?” I breathe.

Mother dusts her hands of the snow, turns to me, and says, “When you’re older, your father and I will teach you how to crystallise the ice into Pink Ice.”

“Can we all do that?”

“No. Not everyone can wield such power. Start training young. That’s why your father brings you to work. He’s getting you ready to learn how to manipulate Pink Ice.”

“What else does it do?”

Mother eyes me and then looks away. “It can block memories.”

“Huh…crazy.” I shovel more snow as I say, “Where is Dad again?”

“He’s at the Sleeping Willow in the Willow Gardens. He has business with the Tucker family, but they don’t trust your father enough to let him into the Kingdom of Oria. So, they went to the free city to settle their business.”

I grimace. “Why does everyone hate Dad?”

“Because they fear him,” Mother says, pushing the neighbour’s crystallised body into the hole. “And so, hate is born from the fear he gives off. If it hadn’t been for his connection with King Ragan, someone would’ve assassinated your father by now.”

“Dad can’t die. He’s too strong.”

Mother chuckles. “Remember my words, sweetheart. Every powerful man has a woman handling the dirty work behind closed doors.”

I point to the body and say, “Is this the dirty work?”

“When you marry, you’ll also gain an endless list of enemies to shield your husband from. And you’ll soon discover that men are the face, while we are the dagger in the back.”

I shake my head and scoff. “I don’t want to get married. The boys here are arseholes, and I doubt the rest of Eraminia has much to offer.”

“You will have to marry after your mission.”

“And what mission is that again?”

She shakes her head and says, “It’s too early to discuss it openly. Just know that your father has plans for you to marry soon after, and you’re not to resist. Follow the orders he gives you. If you don’t, you’ll end up dead.”

“Is he an arsehole?” I persist. “And if he is, can I kill him?”

Mother grins as she says, “He’s a mutt, but this mutt has power, and we need to control it.”

I roll my eyes as I stomp on the suspicious lump in the backyard. “Great. While I get a mutt, Typha’s marrying the heir to the throne.”

“This mutt is worth more than Typha marrying King Ragan’s son.”

“Why?” I persist.

“I’ve said too much. Put the shovel away. Let’s eat dinner.”

I drag my hand down my face and groan. Said too much! Ha! She barely said anything.

The idea of getting married makes me feel queasy. I struggle to talk to boys. They objectify me and see me as the meat they want to tenderise.

I hate it. I don’t want to be used as a prop or a puppet. Every step I take feels like my own, but in reality, my parents entice me into situations, and it’s…