Her Ice

Chapter Twelve 🌶️

Elisheva woke up the next morning fully rested for the first time in a week. She looked down at herself and sighed at the tattered remains of her dress. She knew that she looked horrible, but she couldn't change. Elisheva cursed at herself as she remembered that she had forgotten to pack another dress or any other change of clothes when she left the castle. She had remembered to pack that stupid spell book, but not another change of clothes. She took a deep breath as she ran her fingers through her hair and forced herself to walk down the stairs.

"Good morning," she smiled at the two men sitting at the small round table in the kitchen.

Stuart looked up at her and returned the smile, the wrinkles around his eyes deepening. "Good morning, my dear." He snapped his fingers and breakfast seated itself in front of them. Elisheva forced herself to eat slow and savor the food in front of her. After eating, Stuart took them to a room in the back of the house. "This is where I practice my magic. No matter how old you get, it is always wise to practice." He pointed to a target on the far side of the room. "Show me what you know, Eva." He stepped back behind her.

Elisheva nodded and looked at the target. She turned her attention to Metcalf who grabbed her arm.

"Just remember what I told you," he smiled at her.

Elisheva nodded again and smiled back at him. When he went to stand by Stuart, she turned her attention back to the target in front of her. She closed her eyes and formed an ice shard in both of her hands. Opening her eyes, she chucked the shard that was in her right hand at the target. It shattered when it hit the bullseye. She passed the second shard to her right hand and did the same as the first. The shard shattered when it hit the bullseye. She heard Stuart clapping behind her and turned to look at him.

"Very good!" he complimented her. "Is that all you know?"

Elisheva nodded. "Yes. Metcalf taught me that."

Stuart smiled and nodded. "Then you're a fast learner. Although, you still have a lot more to learn." He clapped his hands together. "Let's get started!" He motioned for Metcalf to step out of the room.

Metcalf squeezed Elisheva's hand and walked out of the room. He closed the door behind him and walked down the hallway. He opened the front door and sat down on the first step of the porch. Sighing he put his head in his hands.

I've been out here too long, he thought to himself as he ran his hands through his hair. You would think that they would come and get me, but no, they left me out here to rot. Rot for something I never did. He reached into the top of his shirt and pulled out an old, silver round locket connected to a long chain around his neck. He opened the locket and looked at the pictures he kept in there. The first picture was of his parents. He always resembled his father with his strong looks, but people always said that he had his mothers heart. He always hoped it was true, for that would be the only thing he would ever have of her. The second picture was of his brother, Aden. Aden resembled their father with looks and personality. He was two years younger then Metcalf and always acted like he was, acting stupid and leaving Metcalf to clean up his messes.

When Metcalf was taken away from his family, he was only sixteen. He still remembered the last look he got from his family as he was being pulled away in chains. His brother, who was fourteen at the time, was being pulled back by two soldiers. His mother was on her knees, tears streaming down her face and screaming her sons name. Finally, his father running towards his sons outstretched hand before someone from behind hit him with a club. Sixteen-year-old Metcalf watched with horror as his father laid on the ground-lifeless, blood seeping around his head.

Metcalf touched both of the pictures and let a single tear run down his cheek. "I'll come back. I promise."

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