The oppressive cold of the chamber seemed to ebb, just slightly, as Arlo's trembling subsided.
His lungs burned as he inhaled, fog curling into the air like fragile ghosts.
He slumped further into the chair, trying to convince himself he could breathe normally.
His mind raced, replaying every twitch of her eyes, every curve of that wicked smile.
She wasn't angry. She wasn't playful. She was calculating, and he was the object of her calculation.
For a moment, the silence stretched—thick, almost tangible.
Then, faintly, almost imperceptibly, the Queen shifted in her chair. Her gaze lingered on him, unreadable, sharp, like sunlight glinting off ice. "You've survived my little test," she said softly, each word deliberate, a knife sheathed in silk. "Impressive."
Arlo swallowed hard. "I—thank you… I think." His voice cracked slightly, betraying the tremor he fought to hide.
Her smile widened, but it didn't feel threatening anymore. It was playful, yet deliberate.
Calculated.
Intentional.
"You're clever, in your own… fragile way. Not many could string together a lie with just enough truth to keep me entertained."
Arlo forced himself to meet her eyes. "Entertained, huh? I—look, I know you're using me. I just don't know how, or for what." His hands clenched into fists, trying to anchor himself.
His heartbeat thundered against his ribs like a war drum.
Her eyes flicked to him, a hint of amusement in the icy silver depths. "Oh? Using you?" Her tone was light, almost bored, as if she were considering a passing thought. "Do you honestly think a queen who has outlived centuries would act without purpose? That she would… entertain a human for no reason?"
He tried to nod, tried to convince himself he sounded composed. "Yeah… I figured. And I'm… not strong, not useful, not—anything. But, I figure I'm here for some reason. It's either for your amusement... or something else entirely."
Her laugh, soft and melodic, echoed faintly through the chamber.
Not cruel, not mocking, but teasing in a way that made Arlo's stomach tighten. "Oh, little human. That is the beauty of it, isn't it? You don't know… yet. That makes it even more fun for me."
"Why me?" he asked, almost unconsciously, the words slipping out despite the chill running down his spine.
Her gaze softened—just enough to unsettle him further. "Why you? Oh… I suppose I like humans who are… unexpected. Fragile yet… potentially entertaining." She tilted her head, eyes glinting. "And besides, don't you want to feel special, little human? Chosen for a purpose you can't even begin to comprehend?"
"Special…?" His lips parted, unsure what to say.
He felt the gravity of her eyes, the weight of centuries pressing down on his chest. "I… I don't feel special. I feel like I'm about to be—killed, or eaten… or worse."
Her smile deepened, and she leaned back in her chair with a lazy elegance that made him shiver. "Danger, yes. That will always follow you." Her gaze hardened momentarily, a spark of something sharp glinting like a blade. "Your life is always going to be… in danger. That is the cost of your… unique situation."
Arlo blinked, stunned. "What… what do you mean? Unique… situation?"
"Oh, don't flatter yourself with clarity," she replied, eyes twinkling wickedly. "The details are… complicated. And really, some things are better left unknown." She let her hand drift across the arm of her chair, deliberate and languid, and for a moment, it was as if she owned the air around her, bending it to her will.
Arlo tried to piece together the truth behind her words.
He wanted to ask more, to probe, but each question seemed to shrink in the shadow of her composure. He finally muttered, almost under his breath, "And… this marriage… why? Is it… really necessary?"
Her eyes flicked to him, sharp and calculating.
She leaned forward slightly, voice lowering to a conspiratorial tone that made his skin crawl.
"Necessary?" She let out a soft, mirthless laugh. "Oh, it is… necessary. But not for the reasons you think." She paused, letting the words sink in. "Some things are… better handled while fragile, while malleable. You, little human, fit that… perfectly."
Arlo's mind whirled. Fragile? Malleable? Perfectly. He swallowed hard. "So… I'm just… a tool?"
Her smile sharpened, wicked but almost affectionate in a way he couldn't place. "Tool, pawn, symbol… all of the above. And perhaps, if you behave… you might even survive this ordeal with your mind intact."
He tried to force a laugh, but it came out hollow. "And you make it sound like a gift."
"Of course it is," she said smoothly, as though stating the obvious. "You should count yourself fortunate, little human. Very few get to live under my protection… even in name alone." She leaned back, eyes scanning the chamber with the same cool detachment she'd wielded when testing him earlier. "But remember, protection doesn't mean safety. You will still face… consequences. Challenges."
Arlo's stomach twisted. "Challenges… like what?"
"Life," she replied, the answer almost too simple to be terrifying. "And I assure you, mine is never dull." She rose, smooth as water over stone, her movement both deliberate and lethal in elegance. "Rest. Tomorrow… we wed."
Arlo froze. "Tomorrow?" His voice cracked, disbelief and panic mingling. "But… that's so soon! I… I—"
She waved a hand dismissively, already moving toward the door, her cloak brushing the frost-covered floor like a whisper of wind. "Rest. Gather your strength, little human. There's a role to play, and you've only begun to learn your lines."
Panic jolted through him, then a sudden realization hit—the system.
"Wait!"
The materials. The blueprints. He couldn't wait. Not if he wanted a sliver of control in this gilded cage.
Now was the perfect time to act.
She stopped at the door and locked at him questionably.
Frantically, he fumbled for a sheet of paper and a quill he spotted by the table, hands shaking as he scribbled down the materials he needed.
He added instructions: he would need someone skilled to build the design.
His eyes flicked to the Queen, standing at the threshold, just poised enough to catch his frantic movements.
"Here," he said carefully presenting the paper toward her. "I… I need someone to help construct this. And these materials… they're essential. I heard about the problem you're facing in your… territory, and—well, I'm… I can design something that helps."
She took the paper, scanning it carefully, her expression unreadable.
The faint glint in her silver eyes was enough to make him sweat anew.
"And you… think this will solve the problem?" she asked, arching an eyebrow, voice calm but edged with curiosity.
"Yes," he said, swallowing hard. "I… I've studied a bit. I can… design it. Build it. Or at least… supervise."
She leaned back slightly, her long fingers tapping the edge of the scroll.
Her eyes swept over his face, assessing, measuring, calculating.
Then, finally, she allowed the smallest smile to curl her lips. "Very well. Tomorrow it shall be… executed as you suggest. Look who's already playing his character of the king."
With that, she turned on her heel, the silver of her hair catching the light, and glided from the chamber like frost sliding down a mountainside.
The door clicked softly behind her, leaving Arlo alone with a pounding heart.
He sank into the chair again, his mind spinning faster than ever.
Fear, confusion, and a shred of determination tangled together.
'This is my life now. I need to survive. I need to understand this world—and her.'
And somewhere, buried beneath the tension and terror, a small, almost imperceptible thought flickered.
'Maybe… just maybe… I have a chance.'
The cold of the chamber no longer felt like a predator pressing down on him.
And Arlo, trembling but alert, stared at the glowing interface of the Innovator System, ready to turn the first of many corners in this twisted, frozen game of power, survival, and fate.