Hoarfrost (Book 1)

Chapter 1

Men fear few things: losing the respect of their peers; engaging in a bad business deal; the cool embrace of death. For some reason that I can't begin to fathom, women never seem to make the list.

Sure, the fear of dying without a good fuck always sneaks its way into the hearts of men—but never women themselves.

It always brings a smile to my face to remind them why we should be at the top of the list.

Fear is a constant bedmate these days, always lurking in the shadows of the palace, the dark circles beneath strained eyes. It's visible in the exhaustion lining the faces of our citizens, in the continual dread that lives in our army's camps.

I grew up with it, have nearly become married to it. It dogs my steps wherever I go, parting the crowds ahead of me with ease. I have become fear. I wear it around me like a suit of armor, and I never leave the house without it.

The kingdom has been at war—a bloody, brutal war that has widened the divide between the people—for thirteen years. I was only seven when my father left to go to battle. Back then, I didn't have my armor to protect me. And then, when my father never came back, I didn't have anything to protect me at all.

It's a tough world for those of us with blue blood; you are either the servant or the master depending on your skill. Subtle gifts, ones not suited for violence, typically land you a silver collar and a lifetime of serving red-bloods who think you're no better than the dirt beneath their feet. I have seen blue-blood servants with a dizzying array of abilities—communicating with animals, weakly manipulating the elements, determining if a gold coin is through a single touch.

But for the other blue-bloods, the ones like me... Life is not so simple. We can rise through the ranks, can earn the respect of our red blooded peers, but many times we are held at a wary arm's distance.

And me? Well, no one trusts me, but they fear me—and that is so much better.

I can see it even now, their unease with me striding down the alley towards the castle. I am the apex predator, and they all scatter before me. No one hinders me—not even the beggars that throw themselves upon every other person's feet.

My name is carried on whispered breath ahead of me, warning of my arrival.

Frost... Frost... The general comes...

There is undeniable power in a name, and I am lucky to have one that suits my nature so well. My father came up with the name when he first laid eyes on me. He said that my pale skin, snow white hair, and shocking blue eyes reminded him of a brutal winter day—the chill of morning frost.

Now, with the common folk whispering it, I am thankful that he didn't give me a soft-hearted moniker like Eve or Luna.

I ignore the whispers; I have long since learned that the best course of action for me is to avoid interacting with the townspeople at all costs. They decided long ago that I was different. When I was a child, I used to try to mend that rift, to make the other children see me as one of them, but I embrace that chasm between us now.

It protects me as much as it does them.

The castle is a stone monstrosity ahead of me at the heart of the city. I know the layout by heart—every entrance, tunnel, and sewer. And I know the location of every guard posted, the exact time the shift changes.

I reach one of the smaller, more discrete entrances near the kitchen in no time at all. The four guards posted stiffen, snapping to attention as their eyes find me in the dusky twilight. Red-bloods always seem to sense me with some sort of sixth sense before they hear or see me.