So, here I come to offer up another sneak at Pawns Book I: Stalemate. 😀 You get a bit of a glimpse into Frost’s mind in this one!
The problem Frost had with Ash’s estate was the fact that it possessed hundreds of rooms. Hundreds. It was unseemly to have so many rooms! It meant dozens upon dozens of hallways, courtyard, and dead ends for him to navigate. When one entered Ash’s realm, Frost mused, one should be given a detailed map of where all landmarks and important rooms were to be found. He was lucky many rooms had large windows, or he might lose all sense of time.
He growled as he ran into another dead end, and he turned around, his frustration mounting. A bad night’s sleep was his reward for not punching Ash in the face after that kiss. If he hadn’t been so stunned…
You liked it.
No. No, he hadn’t. It had been a violation of his personal space, and whether Ash possessed passion or not, whether he was wondrously skilled in the art of kissing or not, it had been a violation. Frost clung to that simple truth as he stalked the hallways. Elder gods’ be damned, he needed a map or a guide! This was positively ridiculous. He spun back from yet another dead end and headed back through the main hallway—at least, he assumed it was the main hallway—and lucky him, another faerie came into sight.
It was Crabapple, the annoying little twit that Slate said had been trying desperately to speak with him for the last week. Well, he had words of his own for Ash’s little errand boy, and he allowed his rage to absolutely fill his face.
“Master Frost!” Crabapple panted, stopping a respectable distance from him. “I have a message from Lord Ash…” he trailed off as he stared up at Frost with wide eyes.
The anger, hot and consuming, rose in Frost as replayed the previous night’s encounter in his room, the constant nagging from Ash, the way Dewdrop continued to insert himself in Ember’s sparring. It was all too much, and Frost snapped. “I have heard quite enough from Lord Ash. In fact, I have a message for you to deliver to him.”
Crabapple opened his mouth, most likely to spew whatever poorly worded missive of pleasure Ash had crammed into the poor faerie’s head. “No. Take this message back to Lord Ash, and do not pester me again. The message is: it is out of respect for my lord and lady that I have shown deference and aplomb,” Frost snarled. “But, should I find him in my guest suite again uninvited, I am like to forget he is lord of this estate and believe him to be nothing more than a petty thief and shall act accordingly.” Without waiting for a reply, Frost shoved past Crabapple, his mood as dark as the clouds gathering above the estate. It was going to be a rough Solstice from beginning to end.