Chapter 4 – Out of the Icy Frost
631 Words
The silence was heavy as Prince Kale led Zira through the dark halls of the Fire Kingdom’s forbidden wing. Cold air clung to his presence, frosting the very walls they passed. Zira walked barefoot behind him, the stone beneath her numb toes biting with every step, yet her focus stayed on him.
Why was he helping her? What did he want?
They stopped in front of a tall, frost-covered door. He didn’t speak—just waved a pale hand. The ice melted away like it recognized him, and the door creaked open. She stepped in and blinked.
His chambers were a strange mix of fire and ice—walls etched with ancient runes, a crystal chandelier glimmering with frosty blue light, yet warm embers burned in a floating fireplace, defying logic. The bed was grand, with silky blue sheets that shimmered under the dim light. Zira hovered at the entrance, unsure.
“You’ll stay here,” Kale said, his voice calm but distant. “It’s safe.”
Safe? In a prince’s chamber? She almost laughed.
“You’re not going to lock me up again?” she asked, tilting her head.
He turned to her slowly. “Not tonight.”
He moved to a wooden chest near the fireplace and pulled out a velvet cloak, deep blue with silver thread. He walked back and draped it gently over her shoulders. His fingers brushed her hair—just lightly—but it was enough.
Zira froze.
Her breath caught in her throat, and goosebumps spread down her arms. His fingers were cold... but something about that touch sparked heat in her veins. She didn’t understand it. She didn’t even know him.
He paused, then stepped back. “You’re trembling.”
“I’m fine,” she lied. Her voice sounded more breathless than intended.
Kale gave her a long look, unreadable. Then he gestured to the bed. “Sit. Rest.”
She sat on the edge carefully, not sure if the moment was fragile or dangerous. The mattress was soft—too soft for a girl who’d been sleeping on stone. Her fingers gripped the edge, heart thudding.
“You’re… different,” he murmured, almost to himself.
“What do you mean?”
He looked away. “Never mind.”
She watched him move toward the window, his long coat trailing behind. Zira studied him—broad shoulders, silver hair that shimmered like snow under moonlight, and that look in his eyes… distant, but guarded. Like someone who’d known too much pain for too long.
He was beautiful in the way a storm was—cold, dangerous, and oddly calming.
She felt the silence stretching, and for a moment, she forgot the chains, the darkness, the fear. “Why did you help me?” she whispered.
Kale didn’t answer at first. Then he spoke quietly, “You shouldn’t be here. Not in that dungeon. That cell was meant to kill.”
Zira’s stomach twisted. She remembered the screams she heard. The ice growing on the walls. The darkness that whispered.
“Then why did they put me there?” she asked.
He turned to her, eyes glowing like moonlit ice. “Because you’re not what you think you are.”
Her chest tightened. “What does that mean?”
Kale didn’t answer. Instead, he stepped toward the door. Before leaving, he paused, not facing her.
“Do not open that door. No matter what you hear tonight.”
Zira stood slowly. “Why? What’s going on?”
But he was already gone.
The door shut with a soft thud, and Zira was left standing in a stranger’s room, in a palace of flames, wrapped in the cloak of a prince made of frost… and with a storm of questions she wasn’t ready to ask.
- Writer
