Page 18

Chapter Ten

T he first thing she thought was that it was incredibly cold. She was lying down on her back in the freezing snow, and she felt sore all over.

The second was that she had no idea who the people surrounding her were.

She groaned slightly, and the girl nearest to her exclaimed.

“You’re awake!”

She nodded.

“I’m Gerda. I say, are you all right?”

“I doubt it, she did hit her head hard.” said the boy beside her.

“Must have lost her memory,” An older man appraised her as he leaned against his walking stick stroking his chin thoughtfully. “Happened to me Cousin Al last winter. Slipped on a bit of ice and was calling himself the king for two weeks.”

“Your cousin Al is a moron,” snorted the tall man next to him, “It had nothing to do with his head injury.”

The two then began to bicker about whether Al was an idiot or not.

Serena whimpered, her body shuddering with cold. Her toes were frozen and she could no longer feel her fingers.

“Oh, hush all of you,” cried Gerda. “We need to get her to warmth. All your chatter can wait.”

“Kay,” she addressed the boy next to her, “pick her up and carry her indoors; make sure to stoke the fire! I’ll go ask Mother to cook up something warm for her.”

The burly blond boy lifted Serena into his arms as if she weighed no more than a sack of potatoes and carried her into a nearby cottage.

Sometime later, she was sitting in bed, in a cozy looking room, with a bowl of soup that had been pressed into her hands by the smiling matronly woman Gerda called Mother. The cold had finally started to seep out of her bones, and she was able to think more clearly.

This was the fairytale Lore had chosen for her, and if she was remembering correctly, he had mentioned something about a land of ice and a queen that felt no warmth. This must be the tale of the Ice Queen, and wasn’t the girl in the original tale called Gerda, just like her rescuer?

She was still not sure how all of this worked, but for now it was enough information to work with. Looking at Gerda, she asked the question that had been weighing on her mind the most.

“Was there a man with me? Tall, messy dark hair?”

Gerda shook her head.

“We just found you passed out in our yard. Other than you, there’ve been no new visitors to the village in months.”

Her heart sank. She had been hoping maybe Grim had been found nearby.

“What is your name?” asked Gerda.

“Serena,” she said softly. “Serena Rose. Listen, I really need to find that man. Is there any way you could help me?”

“Maybe the Ice Queen took him,” said Kay from where he was slouched against the wall. “Would not be the first time.”

Gerda threw him a quelling look, but Serena knew he was right. It lined up with what Lore had said.

“The Ice Queen?” she asked carefully.

Gerda looked away as Kay sauntered toward the bed.

“The Ice Queen once cast a spell on a boy from this village that made him unkind and mean to the ones he loved, and after a while she came to sweep him off to her palace. He stayed there under a spell, blue and cold, until he was rescued by an incredibly brave girl who loved him very much.”

Gerda’s cheeks were pink now—from embarrassment or annoyance or maybe both .

“The queen disappeared for a while after that,” she said, taking up Kay’s story. “But recently we have been seeing signs that she’s making her rounds again. Is your friend a handsome man?”

“I don’t— I mean I wouldn’t know.” Serena’s cheeks burned, and she averted her gaze.

Gerda grinned at her floundering. “Ah. He is handsome, then. There is a high chance she got her claws in him. The queen prefers taking men who are handsome or little boys that are good.” This she addressed to Kay with a smile. The love and devotion in her eyes shone bright.

Serena’s heart ached. What would it be like to be so cherished and so seen by someone? To love and be loved in return. She had yearned for it for so long, and yet it seemed more and more out of reach with every passing day.

“I have to go find Grim,” she said to the two. “Do you know where the Ice Queen’s palace is?”

“Her palace is not a set location. It exists wherever she chooses it to be, depending on the place she is planning to send her ice.”

Gerda looked at the fierce snowstorm outside.

“By the looks of it, you should find it nearby,” she said. “But the snow is harsh, and the weather is cold. Are you sure you want to go out and find your friend like this?”

Serena was already swinging her legs out of bed, ready to head out.

“Wait!” said Gerda. “Let me at least lend you warm clothes and boots for the snow. We seem to be of a similar size, and I am sure I can find something you can take.”

Touched by the girl’s concern, she agreed, and soon was bundled up in a thick blue gown and a gray cloak with a pretty white trim. Gerda also insisted on giving her a hunting blade for protection and a bag of food and supplies.

“Trust me,” she said, “you never know when you might need it.”

“Thank you,” she said to the two of them, “for rescuing me from the cold and for all your help.”

“I hope you find your friend,” said Gerda.

“In one piece,” said Kay, and Gerda elbowed him in the ribs.

Serena nodded grimly and set off.

The strangest thing happened when she stepped outside the village borders; the wind receded, and as she walked along the path toward the woods (because in fairytales, all magic and answers originated in the woods), the snow cleared up, and she found herself on a hill that was lush and green and seemed to belong to a completely different place.

She found herself wishing she remembered more of this tale, but unfortunately, she could only recall the part about the Ice Queen and the two children; nothing about the journey.

After a while of trekking, she spotted a cottage with a beautiful flower garden up ahead. An old woman was tending to the flowers with a smile on her face. Serena picked up her pace and hurried to her.

“Excuse me,” she said, interrupting the woman’s humming, “but could you tell me if you know anything about the Ice Queen’s palace?”

The old woman didn’t look startled to see her. She merely smiled. “What beautiful hair you have! What does a pretty little thing like you want to do at that dreadful witch’s palace?”

“I need to find someone,” she said. “Please, if you know anything.”

“Poor dear, you look absolutely wrecked,” said the woman laying a motherly hand on her shoulder. “I’ll tell you what, you come inside, and have some tea, and I’ll tell you all about where to find the palace.”

As soon as the woman laid her hand on her shoulder, Serena felt all her tension melt away, replaced by a sudden calmness .

She followed the old woman into the house, thinking how lucky she was to meet someone like her in a world where she had no friends and no one to help her.

The woman told her to call her Bertha and made her a lovely cup of tea along with some delicious cake.

After a while she showed Serena to a cozy little room with the softest bed she had ever lain in.

She undressed and snuggled under the covers, closing her eyes unable to remember the last time she had felt this content.

The next morning, she woke up and dressed in a gorgeous dress of pure white that hung on the closet.

It had ruffled sleeves and lovely pink ribbons and she basked in the praise Bertha heaped on her when she wore it.

She paired it with a lovely hat and went on a pleasant stroll in the gardens.

So many beautiful flowers—hydrangeas, narcissus, buttercups—swayed in the breeze, winking at her in the sunlight.

“What beauties you are!” she exclaimed at them.

The flowers twisted and turned at her praise, preening at the compliments.

“But something is missing. A flower that isn’t here but should be. I feel like I am forgetting something.”

Just then Bertha called her in for lunch, so she shrugged and headed indoors, forgetting all about the missing flowers.

The day passed quickly, with Bertha keeping her busy with various amusements like embroidery and reading and gardening.

It was around sunset when she stood in the garden, that the unsettling feeling from the afternoon returned to her.

Like she was forgetting something. She scuffed her dainty shoes on the ground as she nudged the dirt in an agitated manner.

But just like before, as soon as she was about to remember what it was, she heard Bertha call her inside for dinner.

She trudged up the path, brow furrowed, but as soon as she grew closer to the cottage, the familiar feeling of peace returned to her. She was about to forget about the feeling completely when she entered the house, but her gaze fell upon an armoire that stood near the staircase.

An armoire engraved with beautiful roses.

Her head was overcome by pain as memories flooded in.

The door was engraved with a single rose, just like her name.

Your name is Serena Rose, and your hair is pink?

Primrose Cottage. Grim. The curse. Her quest.

How could she have forgotten all of it? Unless…

“Serena, my dear, are you okay?” Bertha’s concerned voice sounded behind her.

She straightened and gave the woman a small smile.

“I’m perfectly fine,” she said. “I just need to go upstairs and get something I forgot.”

“Oh, very well, fetch it and then come join me for dinner.”

Serena ran upstairs and flew down the hall to the room where she was staying.

In a flurry, she searched for her belongings.

She found nothing. After checking to see whether she was alone or not, she snuck into Bertha’s room, and there in the closet, she found her bag full of supplies and the clothes she had come in.

She hurriedly dressed and took out the hunting blade from the bag.

She slipped downstairs and was inching toward the door when she heard a voice behind her.

“Where are you going?”

It was Bertha.

She turned around slowly, keeping the blade at her side. “You cast a spell on me.”