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The Cold King(2)

By:Amber Jaeger

       
           



       





The summer rains slowed and cool wind ushered in a dry autumn. Life  continued on for Calia as it had for years-chores, cooking, cleaning,  errands and more chores. She often wondered about the old woman and the  mysterious king, among other things, and spent all of her time working  in thoughtful silence. Life was hard and boring and lonely. Calia was  beginning to wonder if it would always be that way.

Then, on the first snowfall of winter, the king came down from his mountain castle.

Tiny flakes swept through the steel sky, hiding everything above the  tree line before thinning out and falling onto the village. Children  shrieked and ran about with their tongues stuck up in the air while the  adults muttered about cold weather and wetness everywhere.



Calia was looking over the last of the apples Mr. Norp had for sale when  everything around her stilled. The children stopped yelling, the adults  stopped grumbling and even the animals fell silent. The she heard the  sharp rap of boot heels coming down the only paved road in town-the road  from the castle.

The even footsteps were unhurried and echoed eerily off the walls of the  stores and stalls. Calia gripped her cloak tight against her throat and  peeked over her shoulder. All the other villagers had turned to watch  their king make his way to the small platform in the center of the  market square. Men removed their hats and women clutched their children  to their sides.

Calia's breath caught in her throat when she finally caught sight of the  Cold King. Whether he was handsome or ugly, she could not tell. A cold,  hard, mask encrusted with glittering stones covered his face from  hairline to the top of his perfectly shaped mouth. The muscles along his  sharp jaw were clenched and Calia wondered if he was angry.

She squinted to see better but the sparkling of the stones made it hard  to discern what was mask and what was man. The unruly, dark waves  framing his face and tumbling to his collar hid how the thing even  stayed in place, giving the uneasy appearance that his face was the  mask.

Even from afar Calia could see he was taller and his shoulders wider  than most of the men in the village. His perfectly fitted clothes,  clearly made of expensive cloth, emphasized his fitness.

But rather than all of those things making him attractive they made him  terrifying. His careless hair, theatrical mask and perfect physique made  him appear a mad god.



If her shaking knees would have let her, Calia would have run. Instead  she stood in place, trembling, and waited with all the other villagers  for their king to speak.

He was silent for a long moment, seeming to take in the small town  around him. Men shuffled their feet and women twisted their hands  together in nervousness. But Calia glanced around, wondering what the  king was looking at-or for.

His voice was a low rumble that seemed to reverberate in her chest.  "Loyal subjects, it is with great sadness that I inform you that your  former friend and neighbor, and my treasured personal servant, Seleda,  has passed from this life to the next." A collective gasp came from the  crowd and one mother began to weep. The Cold King held his hand up for  silence. "I am sure you will mourn her as I will. But life will continue  for the rest of us and as such, I have need for a new personal servant.  I will trust you wise villagers to choose the most capable of you all  to fill this important role. I will receive my new servant in my throne  room tomorrow at dusk." He looked out over the crowd again with his  hidden eyes and Calia shivered as his gaze passed over her. The king  gave a curt nod and stepped down from the platform. Without a backwards  glance he made his way back to the road leading to the castle.

The villagers slowly came out of their daze and several mothers began to  wail in earnest with the first mother that had cried. Men twisted their  hats in their hands and began rushing about looking for their wives and  children.



The mayor of their town pushed his way to the platform the king had  vacated. "Town meeting!" he called through cupped hands. "Town meeting  tonight at dusk, right here!"

Calia gripped her empty basket, picked up her skirts and ran home.

"Mother, did you hear?" she asked as she burst through the door.

"Hush, you idiot girl," her mother hissed. "I just got those two to sleep."

Calia glanced at the sleeping twins and lowered her voice. "Mother, did  you hear? The Cold King came to town and said he needs a new personal  servant. We're having a town meeting tonight."

Her mother's face paled and she pressed a hand over her heart. "Oh my …   oh … " Her eyes grew shiny with tears and Calia was shocked to see her  strong, harsh mother trembling with fear. "I knew this day was coming. I  was hoping that old coot would live until my children were grown."                       
       
           



       

Calia bit her lip but her curiosity overcame her fear. "Will one of us really have to go?"

"Yes. We will have to choose someone tonight and send them tomorrow."  Her mother dropped to her chair. "Perhaps someone will volunteer. That  happens occasionally."

Calia shuddered. "Why would anyone do that? Don't they have to stay up  there until they die? What if the Cold King is cruel? Wouldn't they miss  their family, their friends?"

"I do not know, girl," her mother muttered. "Stop with your chattering, my head is pounding."



Calia bit her lips together again, trying to keep all her questions in.

"When is the meeting?" her mother finally asked.





"Mother, please can't I go as well?" Calia begged.

"For the final time, no!" her mother snapped. "I need you to stay home  and look after the younger children. I do not know how long this will  take and I cannot have the babies out after dark in the cold."

Calia pouted but dutifully handed her mother her hat and gloves.

Mrs. Thorne jerked them on roughly then visibly calmed herself and  smoothed them over her hands. She set the hat just right and inspected  her teeth in their one tiny mirror. To Calia she was just a harsh,  unloving mother and to the town's people she was a nuisance who thought  too much of herself. But Mrs. Thorne was certain good fortune, a gold  fortune and ease in life were just around the corner for her. She was  certain that she deserved it.

With a grim smile she kissed the younger children but left without a word of goodbye for the oldest.

Calia watched the door for a moment, wishing her mother would change her  mind and let her attend the important meeting. She was always left out  of everything; her curiosity was always left unsatisfied. She doubted  her mother would even share anything she learned that night. With a  sigh, Calia turned back to her chores.

She washed the dinner from the babies faces and began to clean the  dishes and table. After she wrestled her siblings into bed she continued  with her chores. Exhausted, she finally allowed herself to collapse  into her mother's arm chair just as she came home.



"Mother! What happened? Who volunteered?" she asked, jumping up from the chair.

If Mrs. Thorne had noticed her daughter sitting in the chair  specifically reserved for her and her alone, she said nothing. She kept  her back to her daughter while she removed her coat and hat and kept her  silence as she removed her shoes and moved into the kitchen to push the  kettle over the fire.

"Mother?" Calia asked again.

"No one volunteered," her mother finally said, but she still did not turn to face her daughter.

Calia waited for more but Mrs. Thorne just fiddled with her tea leaves  and cup. "So what happened?" she finally burst out. "Who did they  choose?"

The silence stretched out and the skin at the back of her neck began to prickle.

"We chose you," her mother finally answered.

Calia pulled in a shuddery breath. "Me?" Suddenly her tiny world of  cooking and cleaning for her mother and tending her siblings didn't seem  so terrible.

Mrs. Thorne turned to face her daughter. "Yes girl, you. You were the  best choice." Her cold words matched her cold demeanor perfectly and it  chilled Calia to her core.

"But I do not want to go! I-"

Her mother cut in angrily. "Well someone has to go and you were the one  chosen." Her face held no remorse or sadness, only annoyance and  aggravation.

Calia clutched her hands over her chest in panicky disbelief. "But why?  Surely the Cold King won't be happy with someone as lowly as me."



"He's happy with whoever we send," her mother snapped. "And we're  sending you." She noticed the tears welling in her daughters eyes and  softened the tiniest bit. "Really, it's for the best. All the other  girls have prospects and you have none. You could have a better life  being a servant in a castle than being an old spinster in town."