Chapter 2 The Frost Palace
The city blurred past her neighborhood giving way to unfamiliar streets, then to tree-lined avenues she’d only ever seen in magazines. The houses got bigger, the lawns got greener and the gates even taller.
Aiden sat across from her in the opposite seat, he hadn’t said a word since they’d gotten in the car, just stared out his own window like he was trying to disappear into it. The road wound up into the West Hills, switchback after switchback, the city spreading out below them like something from a postcard. On a clear day, you could probably see Mount Hood from up here. Today there was just gray sky bleeding into buildings, bleeding into the river, everything had the same washed-out color of grief.
Ariella’s phone buzzed. Her mother.
“Where are you?”
She typed back quickly “Had to run an errand. Back soon. Don’t worry.”
Three lies in eight words. A new personal record.
The phone buzzed again.
“The bread is perfect. You’re so good at this, baby.”
Ariella’s throat tightened. She shoved the phone back in her pocket.
“You didn’t tell her.” Aiden’s voice startled her. She’d almost forgotten he could talk.
“Tell her what? That I’m in a car with a stranger who won’t explain why his father wants to see me?” Ariella kept her voice sharp, defensive. “What exactly should I have said?”
Aiden’s jaw tightened. He looked at her, and she saw something flicker across his face. Guilt, maybe. Or recognition. Like he understood the impossible position she was in because he was in one too.
“I don’t know,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry. I don’t…” He stopped. Started again. “I don’t know what he wants. He doesn’t tell me things. He just… commands, and expects everyone to follow.”
“Must be nice,” Ariella said before she could stop herself. “Having that kind of power.”
The words came out harder than she expected. Aiden looked back out the window. “It’s the opposite of nice.”
Before Ariella could respond, before she could figure out if that was self-pity or actual pain in his voice the car slowed.
They’d reached a gate. Not just any gate, a massive thing of wrought iron and steel, easily twelve feet tall, with security cameras mounted on either side. Beyond it, a driveway curved up through manicured gardens, disappearing into trees.
The driver pressed something on the dashboard. The gates swung open silently.
“Jesus,” Ariella whispered.
The driveway seemed to go on forever. Smooth black asphalt winding through a landscape that looked like someone had taken a Pacific Northwest forest and perfected it. Massive Douglas firs, Japanese maples with leaves so red they looked like they were bleeding, ferns that belonged in a nature documentary. Everything was too green, too precise, too much.
And then the house came into view.
Ariella’s breath caught.
It wasn’t a house. Houses had front doors and mailboxes and places where people lived. This was something else entirely, this is a structure of glass, steel, and natural wood that seemed to grow out of the hillside itself. Modern architecture at its most extreme: sharp angles, floor-to-ceiling windows, multiple levels cascading down the slope. Beautiful and cold at the same time, like a museum exhibit about what homes might look like if humans didn’t actually need warmth.
The car stopped in a circular driveway in front of the main entrance. Ariella stared up at the building, suddenly very aware of the hole in her jeans, the flour stains on her brother’s hoodie, and the fact that she probably smelled like yeast and exhaustion.
“Welcome to the palace,” Aiden said, and his voice was so hollow it made her chest hurt.
The driver opened her door. Ariella climbed out on shaking legs.
The air up here was different; thinner, cleaner, like even the oxygen was expensive. The rain had softened to mist, tiny droplets catching in her hair. Everything was quiet except for the sound of water trickling somewhere in the gardens. No traffic. No sirens. No city sounds at all.
It felt like being on another planet.
Aiden was already walking toward the entrance, hands shoved in his coat pockets, shoulders hunched like he was trying to make himself smaller. Ariella followed because she didn’t know what else to do.
The front door was massive! Solid wood with a modern steel handle. Aiden opened it without knocking. Of course, he didn’t knock. This was his house.
Inside was worse.
The entryway was three stories tall, with a floating staircase made of wood and steel cables spiraling up one side. The floor was polished concrete, heated somehow. She could feel warmth through her worn sneakers. Everything was white and gray and perfectly clean. Not a single thing out of place. Not a photo on the walls, not a coat on the rack, not a piece of mail on the side table. It looked like a spread from an architecture magazine, not a place where people actually lived.
“He’s in his study,” Aiden said, not looking at her. “Third floor.”
“You’re not coming?”
“He asked for you. Not me.” Something bitter crossed Aiden’s face. “He made that very clear.”
Before Ariella could respond, a voice echoed from somewhere above.
“Aiden? Is that you?”
A girl appeared at the top of the floating staircase maybe fourteen, with dark hair in a messy bun, wearing an oversized Portland Thorns sweatshirt and fuzzy socks. She looked so normal, so teenage, that Ariella felt something loosen in her chest.
“Lily,” Aiden said, and his whole voice changed. Softened. “You’re supposed to be at school.”
“Teacher work day.” Lily was already bounding down the stairs, moving with the kind of careless grace that came from growing up in a space this big. She stopped when she saw Ariella, eyes widening slightly. “Oh. Hi.”
“Hi,” Ariella managed.
“This is Ariella Hayes,” Aiden said. “Ariella, my sister, Lily.”
Lily’s eyes went even wider. “Hayes? Like Hayes Bakery? Oh my god, I love that place. Your sourdough is literally the best thing I’ve ever tasted. I tried to convince Dad to…” She stopped abruptly, glancing at Aiden. Something passed between them. A look Ariella couldn’t read. “Sorry. I’m rambling. I do that a lot.”
“It’s okay,” Ariella said, surprised by how much she meant it. “Thank you. For… liking the bread.”
“Are you here to see Dad?” Lily asked, and there was something careful in her voice now. Worried.
“Apparently.”
Lily bit her lip. Looked at Aiden again. “Is he…”
“I don’t know,” Aiden said quietly. “But we should let them talk.”
“Right.” Lily turned back to Ariella, and her smile was genuine but sad. “Good luck. He’s… well. You’ll see.”
Then she was gone, disappearing down a hallway with her fuzzy socks making no sound on the heated concrete.
Aiden and Ariella stood in the massive entryway, the silence pressing down on them.
“Third floor,” Aiden repeated. He pointed to the floating staircase. “His study is at the end of the hall. You can’t miss it.”