Frostbitten Past

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Not anymore, he thought sullenly.

When he looked at the watch on his wrist, he vaguely realized that Andorra and Noah would be in school, playing pretend, acting like there weren't more things at stake than high school for humans. A grubby place to study knowledge, Kyle thought, but after all, he was a realist. And human schools were inferior.

He wondered if they were playing the same game, where Noah ignored her, and Shaniah bullied her, and Andorra cried to herself in the bathroom. The same tired, boring routine of a girl who was more powerful than most faeries in Anlithamy, yet refused to acknowledge who she was.

He pictured how he would erase her memory. Now that a few days had passed, he would claim she had been shaking in the hallway, even screaming. And she would believe him, because she'd done it in the past.

He would look into her eyes, acting worried, wondering why she couldn't remember him dropping her off from the dance, or even worse: why she didn't remember them kissing.

He wondered how she would react to that lie; he wondered if her cheeks would burn, and if she would tell him she liked him. He wondered if the lie would make her kiss him for real.

If she kissed him for real, it would be over. She would be his, not Noah's, and there would be nothing he could do. Not if Andorra thought she loved Kyle.

He sat up on the couch, pushing this plan forward in his mind. Pretending that they were dating was sounding sweeter and sweeter to him. He imagined how Noah would react to the news, how he would try to make her remember all the sweet times they probably spent in the diner, or after he rescued her.

Kyle wondered with a sudden burning jealousy if Andorra and Noah had already kissed. He wondered if Noah had held her tearful face and kissed her so she would forget. Or perhaps, he kissed her so she would choose him.

Kyle shot off of the couch, angry at his own imagination. He decided he didn't like imagining Noah kissing her, and banished the thought from his own mind as he grabbed his jacket and pulled it on over his sweater, which paired nicely with his khakis.

Kyle didn't want to dream about erasing Andorra's memory; he wanted it to be a reality.

He could practically hear his father's voice in his head saying, where did the old Kyle go? You used to be so good. His father, however, had never understood the hatred between the two boys. He never understood how Kyle, a merchant's son, a big nobody, even knew the son of the Snow Clan Leader. How Kyle even interacted with Noah during their brief and inconsistent visits.

Kyle wondered too why the two of them had found each other immediately. How Noah had managed to look so cold and unfriendly even as a young boy, barely old enough to even have opinions about those below him.

In any other situation, Kyle and Noah would have never met. If the two clans were still in Anlithamy, Kyle would know of Noah's existence, but Noah would never know of him. Even with the two clans trapped on earth, Noah should have never met Kyle, the lowly son of a simple merchant who was kind and eager, but not special in any sort of way.

In any other situation, Noah wouldn't have been the one to collect Andorra before her twenty first birthday. In any other situation, it would have been a different snow faerie that was trained to be a seeker. It was never supposed to be Noah.

Kyle stomped down his apartment steps and out to the parking lot, wrapping his arms around himself. Andorra looked ridiculous as always in her winter clothes, but she was right; it was freezing. Even for Kyle, who was more adapted to the winter weather. He hated that Andorra could bundle herself in so many layers and still be as royal as she was born to be. She was the Princess of Anlithamy, and yet she was perfectly content wearing six layers and mittens that looked fit for a child.