2 Frost And Fire

Freya's heart shook, looking at her dagger dancing between the king's fingers as if it were made from wood. She wanted to defend herself using the dagger, but now it was meaningless.

She pressed her lips and refused to move her body. The chilly sound of her husband evoked unwanted memories. How laughable to meet the king for the third time and at their third marriage anniversary in a secluded dark street. She squatted on the ground while he stood all high. 

And the more laughable that he didn't recognise her! She had changed her eyes and hair colour but still her appearance was the same. She couldn't blame him though. Both times when she met him were on her wedding day, when he refused to look at her and kept giving her his cold shoulder the whole day.

While the second time...

Right now, she was like a prisoner waiting for her verdict. And the judge was none other than her husband, the king. This one meeting resumed her life in reality.

Still, in her squatting position, she organized her messy thoughts. The side where the king stood was darker, so she didn't notice him. 

The situation was clear from the start. The man in black, who dragged her here, was his personal guard. His companions were knights. The square metallic emblem of the imperial knights, where three eagles were carved, was placed in their outfits.

She paid little attention to the details from the start.

She thought they were mercenaries, and they would get rid of her to clear their crime. Her fear caused her to misjudge the situation. 

'Why are they here? And who is the dead man?'

"You are from the palace too."

The king's voice snapped her out of her thoughts. Without gazing over, she knew he had taken her token. The workers in the palace had the same token but were different in colour depending on their ranks.

Freya nodded and stood up slowly, not daring to look at the king's face.

"What is your name?" he asked.

"F — Felma Raynder," she whispered, nearly revealing her true name.

"What are you doing at this place?"

She bit her lips and answered, "My brother got sick, and I returned home to see him." She tried to make her voice sounded calm.

"At this hour?"

"I just got off work. I will see him and return to the palace," she replied, biting her lips.

"Diligent maid," he said.

Freya didn't know if he said the truth or if he just mocked her.

"Where do you live?"

"After five streets, the third house with the red door."

The questions continued, and Freya answered them. Taking her maid's identity and appearance was to ensure her safety. Felma had a brother who was sick, so she went out of the palace to visit him a lot. Choosing her was the right choice.

"Take her to the palace," he ordered and one of his knights stepped closer.

Freya's body relaxed as the king passed her and left with the others. She returned to the palace. Her quarter was in a deserted area. The palace walls boarded it from the east and the south while the vast lands where tall trees grew. It was like a beautiful prison inside a bigger one.

As the time was late, all the servants were in their rooms. The hallways were dark, and the firelights were shut off. She shook her head and walked the familiar way to her room. It was not the first time the maids neglected their duties. They never did their work well.

After getting inside her room, Joe, her maid, rushed over. "Your Highness, are you alright? You're late, which frightened me to death," she said nonstop.

"Why are you awake till now?"

"How can I sleep when Your Highness is outside? I nearly went out to search for you," she said with a childish tone.

Freya shook her head. "Prepare the bath," she ordered, dropping her tired body on the bed.

"Yes, Ma'am," Joe nodded, smiled, and hurried to the bath space inside her room.

Freya dove into the warm water, feeling the tiredness in her body vanish.

"Ma'am! What happened to your palms and knees?" Joe exclaimed.

"I am fine," she replied sleepily.

Joe rubbed her head and rinsed it carefully. The reddish brown locks vanished, and it was replaced by glowing silver hair.

Wearing her nightgown, she sat in front of her vanity mirror and then took a sip from a blue potion. Soon, her eyes turned into their original purple colour.

Looking at her beautiful face, she sighed. She had not felt the need to have a normal appearance like the previous months.

She had planned her escape for more than one year. As the divorce was a far reach, she thought of finding a substitute. The king hated her and her kingdom thus he never set foot in her quarter, so her substitute would live a carefree life without bother. Her marriage was to stop the war three years ago. She was trapped here for the past years.

The problem lay in her exotic appearance. Her silver hair symbolised the Valian kingdom's royal descendants and her purple eyes were inherited from her mother.

In her twenty-two springs of living, she never for once found a person with similar eye colour. But since she made an order with the guild, she had to be patient and wait for the good news.

'Hopefully, it will be soon.'

As she marched to her bed, her gaze stopped on a parchment on her table.

"Joe, what is it?" she asked her maid who was busy fixing the bed.

"Ma'am—" Joe stuttered, which picked her curiosity on what was written.

'The forgotten Queen of the Frowshire Kingdom.'

Freya read the large title, her brows lowered. She looked down at the yellowish-brown parchment and read more about her attractive story.

'The princess of the enemy's kingdom became the queen as per the agreements done between both parties after the great loss the Valian kingdom suffered.'

She pressed her lips and flipped the paper to notice that the article talked about her. She didn't know that they would go this far and write a whole article about their queen.

The supervisors of the Journal sure had no fear! They sure had the king's backup.

'The nobles presented their dissatisfaction and voted for the demotion of the queen.'

Chuckling mockingly, Freya looked at the last line. How she wished it could happen, to end the mess she lived through for the past three years, but she knew it would never happen. If so, she would not plan to find a replacement.

From the Frowshire Kingdom's history, there were no records of royal divorce, as the law forbade a king from divorcing his main queen.

Besides, her marriage with the king was for political reasons and the benefit of the two kingdoms. If something went wrong with the marriage, her brother would never let her go untouched.

Freya woke up from her thoughts and gazed at the last line in the article.

'After three years of marriage, the queen never took part in any events, which made the people question if the ghostly queen existed for real.'

Freya's lips curled up. For years, people nicknamed her many things, the unluckiest queen, unfavored queen, piece of furniture, a thorn, lazy queen... Now it added a new description, the ghostly queen. 'Nice name.'

"Joe who brought this to my room?" she asked, and Joe shook her head.

The ones allowed inside her room were Joe and Nara, the headmaid. Rising one brow, 'Nara! What should I do with you?' she thought.

Turning to Joe, "Burn it," she ordered, and Joe trembled.

"Your Highness, don't think about those unpleasant things written in the Journal. Those people don't know you, and it's not your fault—" Joe said, choking on her tears. Her white face flushed red, and her hazel eyes reddened. She hurriedly wiped her rosy cheeks.

Freya sneered and raised her chin. "I care less about what they say about me, so you have no reason to be this emotional, Joe. They search for news to sell their Journal fast and gain popularity, so they wrote me about me."

She was at the top of the list the nobles gossiped about in their tea parties, so the supervisors launched the White Shade Journal, releasing a whole article about her.

The first Journal imprinted in the kingdom made a lot of noise before its liberation yesterday.

If her people saw her as a real queen, news like this would never see the lights.

Slandering the royal family was a crime and would be treated as treason, but nobody cared about an enemy's princess who got the title. No more.

And most of what the editorial was true.