❄️ Ice on Me, Princess: Dare or Die
I used to think snow was beautiful, When I was little, I would press my hands against the palace windows and watch it fall over the courtyard. My mother would stand behind me, wrapping a shawl around my shoulders, telling me winter was gentle if you respected it.
She died when I was twelve. After that, winter never felt gentle again.
The day my father announced my engagement, the weather was warm. Unusually warm for our kingdom. The servants had opened the tall windows in the east hall, and I remember thinking the air felt too light for something so heavy.
"Stand straight," my father told me quietly as the court gathered. He did not look at me when he said it. He never does when the decision is already made.
A messenger from the Crimson Court stepped forward and unrolled a letter sealed in deep red wax. The emblem of House D'Arden gleamed under the chandeliers.
"By decree of both courts," he read, "Lady Calista Mourne is to be formally engaged to His Highness Lucien D'Arden."
A murmur spread through the room. Not surprise—everyone had been expecting some kind of alliance. Just not so soon.
I kept my face still. Nineteen yesterday. Promised today. Efficient.
My father finally turned toward me. His expression was calm, measured, distant.
"You understand what this means," he said.
It wasn't a question about marriage. It was a question about obedience.
"Yes," I replied. That was all he needed.
---
I went to the courtyard after the announcement. I told the maids I wanted air. They knew better than to follow.
The fountain in the center hadn't frozen yet. The water moved lazily under the evening light. I stepped closer and rested my fingers against the stone rim.
The cold came naturally. It always does.
Ice crept outward from where I touched, thin and delicate at first, then thicker as my thoughts darkened. The surface hardened, the water stilled, and within seconds the fountain was silent.
I didn't mean to do it. I rarely mean to.
"Should I be flattered," a voice said behind me, "or concerned?"
I didn't jump. I've been trained not to. I turned slowly.
Lucien D'Arden stood a few steps away, hands loosely clasped behind his back. No crown, no ceremony. Just black clothing and eyes that didn't seem surprised by anything.
He was younger than I expected. That unsettled me more than if he had been older.
"You arrived without escort," I said.
"I didn't want an audience," he replied. "This seemed more honest."
His gaze drifted to the frozen fountain. "Does it always respond to your mood like that?"
I held his eyes. "Sometimes."
He walked closer, unhurried. Confident in a way that didn't feel loud. That was what made it dangerous.
Most men fear what they don't understand.
Lucien looked curious. "You're angry," he observed.
"Yes."
"At me?"
"I don't know you."
He smiled slightly. "That can be arranged."
Before I could step back, he reached for my hand. Skin against skin. People usually hesitate. But He didn't.
The frost should have climbed him instantly. It always does when I lose control.
Instead, warmth met me halfway. Not enough to burn. Just enough to resist.
Our hands remained locked between us.
His expression didn't change. "Good," he said softly.
"Good?" I repeated.
"I'd be disappointed if you were pleased about this engagement."
There was no mockery in his tone. Just honesty.
He released my hand and stepped back, giving me space again as if he had proven something and was satisfied.
"I won't pretend this is romance," he continued. "We both know what this is."
"A transaction," I said.
"A trial."
That word made me look at him more carefully. He tilted his head slightly.
"If you want freedom," he said, "earn it."
My chest tightened—not with fear, but with attention.
"Earn it how?"
He held my gaze, steady and deliberate. "Try to kill me before the wedding."
The words were spoken the same way someone might suggest a duel. Calm. Almost reasonable.
"If you succeed," he added, "I'll dissolve the engagement myself."
He turned as though the conversation had concluded. "And if I fail?" I asked.
He paused, glancing over his shoulder. "Then you'll learn something about me."
He didn't elaborate. He didn't need to.
Lucien D'Arden walked away without guards, without urgency, leaving me alone beside the frozen fountain and a proposal no one else would ever dare to offer me.
For the first time that day, my heartbeat felt steady. Not because I accepted my fate.
But because I had been given a choice.
And I have always preferred action over surrender.