by Karalynn Lee
She waited for the mountain-king by the stairs. He had donned his cloak again and looked as serene as ever. If she hadn’t seen him unleashed in the sword-dance, she never would’ve thought he’d engaged in any heavy physical activity.
He smiled when he saw her, and since there was no sign of snow this morning, they went up the stairs together to their usual breakfast spot.
“That was an incredible dance.”
“Yes, Beatris can handle any blade she sets her hand to.”
She spluttered a little on her milk. “I meant you. And don’t tell me it’s because you’re the king.”
“It’s because of long hours of practice.”
“I’ve never seen you practice before today.”
“I don’t always do it in the courtyard. It seems to keep people from going about their usual business.”
“If you did it more often, they might get used to it.” She wouldn’t mind seeing such a sight so often it became familiar.
“What they’re waiting to see is whether I’ll get beaten,” he said, amused.
“Maybe,” she admitted. “I’m guessing that doesn’t happen often.”
“No.”
“Hmm, so maybe people won’t become accustomed. It’s your fault for being so good at sword-dancing.” She sighed. “More practice, is it? Poor Jakkis.”
To her surprise, he asked, “What of your talents? You promised me many.”
“I did say that when we first met, didn’t I?” She laughed at herself. “I was trying to make a good impression. But I can read and write, and when I’m not nervous I do well enough with a bow. I can do Anagard’s court dances blindfolded—my father used to make me practice those, I think when he still hoped to wed me to one of the lords of the noble houses. But those are so slow and repetitive that it’s not much of an accomplishment.”
The magpie chose that moment to venture closer to her and peck at her bread. Finally! Though willing to approach the mountain-king, the bird had always before been skittish of her.
“I’m good with horses,” she added. Her list seemed pitiful. Certainly none of these abilities would avail a queen. But she learned quickly—hadn’t she absorbed Dereth’s reprised lessons?
He continued for her. “You befriend people easily. You’re honest in a way that doesn’t offend. You like to explore new places. And yes, you’re very talented with horses.”
She became deeply involved with her broth. “I guess I did make a good impression.” It shocked her to hear herself described so frankly and with none of the scorn Anagard nobles had heaped upon her.
“Don’t worry about sword-dancing. You’ll get better.”
“I know. And it doesn’t really matter if I don’t.”
“It seems to matter to you. But you do have other gifts.”
What had Jakkis said? I’m sure he thinks you beautiful already. She longed to ask the mountain-king whether he considered beauty to be one of her gifts, but couldn’t find the courage. She didn’t want to sound like one of those fatuous noblewomen who cared only for appearances, and she didn’t know how to ask him about a deeper type of beauty, the kind you found in anything you truly cared for. The way Redwing is the most beautiful of all horses to me.
The best question she could fumble out was, “What matters most to you?”
“Helsmont,” he said without pause.
She looked out on the frost-tipped trees of the mountains, both lovely and lofty in their winter glory. How could she compare? Dereth chose his kingdom over me, too. She let their conversation lapse for the rest of the meal.
When they were done eating, he rose to go about his duties, but then paused by the doorway. His expression was uncharacteristically hesitant. “Rendel’s not here yet. Will you come with me? I have something to show you. A sign of spring, despite the snow yesterday.”
Her curiosity leaped up and she fell into step with him. “Where are we going?”
“Outside the city.”
She halted. “Wait a minute.” She dashed to her room. She pulled on her gloves, realized they should be left for last, yanked them off, struggled into an extra overlarge tunic, traded her scarf for a shawl she could drape over her head, found a fur-lined cloak, donned her gloves again and rejoined the mountain-king in the hallway.
He just looked at her.
“I get cold,” she said defensively, voice muffled by the shawl wrapped around her face.
He smiled faintly as they started walking again. “A princess in her winter coat. All other creatures prepare for the season, so why not you?”
“All sensible creatures. You sword-danced in the courtyard in short sleeves.” She shivered dramatically.
“Sparring warms the blood. And it’s easier to move in less clothing.”
“Harder to move if one’s frozen stiff,” she retorted.
He stopped and turned to her, painfully earnest. “I hope the clime will seem less bitter with time. Summer carries warmer winds up here.”
Was he worried she found Helsmont too inhospitable? She smiled at him in reassurance. “Between Jakkis’s lessons and five layers of clothes, I’ll survive.”
They didn’t take mounts, and she found out why when they began making their way along a steep slope. She abandoned dignity and scrambled up the narrow route he insisted on calling a path, using rocky outcroppings and tough-rooted shrubs as handholds. The effort warmed her enough that she pulled her shawl down around her neck.
“You’re part mountain goat,” she accused as he helped her past a particularly treacherous area that had given him no trouble at all. “And part limpet. We’ll never get back down and we’ll have to spend the rest of our lives at the top of this mountain.”
His face was grave but she could tell his eyes were laughing at her by a telltale crinkling. “We’re almost there.”
Their destination turned out to be a fox’s den, a burrow set into a patch of ground obscured by thistles. The sleek, red-furred occupant sat out in front as though waiting for them. The fox eyed her with clear anxiety, but Tathan laid a hand on Kimri’s shoulder, vouching for her, and the vixen relaxed. She trotted into her den.
“I was with this fox when she birthed her kits,” he said, just as the fox returned with one of them. She repeated the trip until all four had been brought out for the king’s approval. They were fuzzy and blunt-nosed and bounding with energy.
Kimri didn’t dare touch them, but they tumbled into the mountain-king’s lap with high-pitched yips. He held each one in turn, and they trembled ecstatically in his hands.
I might do the same if he touches me.
She nearly stopped breathing. Any noise or movement could attract his attention and let him see the blush she could feel spreading over her face. But if she fainted, he would turn and see her anyway. So she slowly released the air in her lungs and drew a measured amount back in. The world hadn’t changed at all in that space between two breaths, but she felt as though she’d been turned inside out, and the raw surface of her skin was aware of the precise distance between her and him.
Something small and cold pressed against her wrist: a fox’s nose. The vixen looked up at her with knowing eyes.
“Oh, quiet, you,” Kimri said to her.
Tathan looked up at that. “Did she speak to you?”
“It was a universal look of women everywhere, and louder than words.”
“I’m glad she has taken to you.”
“I think that if I were with you, even wild boars would greet me with affection.” She watched the vixen usher her kits back to shelter. “You have a rare touch with animals, you know.” There were more things she could say of him, but it was still newly sprouted knowledge, and she wanted to turn this secret over in her heart a few times before blurting it out. It was almost embarrassing. This was an arranged marriage. She wasn’t supposed to feel this way about him.
“So do you.”
She shook her head, knowing that no riverlands fox would have ever let her approach so close
. “Do all the creatures here trust you so?”
“I am the mountain-king.” He offered no more answer than that.
“Your realm is so mysterious.” And by your realm she meant you, but she couldn’t say that. She lay back on the ground with a sigh and folded her arms behind her head. “Ow.” She moved a rock out from under her back.
“It’ll be yours to learn about, should you wish. There’s much more to see than the city.”
“And you’ll show it all to me?” She flung her arms out to either side. She’d seen Helsmont on maps and knew exactly how much land it encompassed, but the flat parchment had failed to capture the richness of the mountains. She was giddy with how much there was to discover. And this man, this king who had inexplicably asked for her, would be with her.
“Whenever it suits you,” he said, and she smiled just from the pleasure of hearing his deep voice.
He was smiling too, watching her. “What?” She looked down. Had she spilled something on her clothes?
“You’re not afraid of me anymore.”
“I never—” She stopped, knowing it for a lie even as she spoke it. “How couldn’t I be at first? You were the mountain-king on his lofty peak, never seen or heard from. Your guards can cut a man into quarters before he can cough, and your realm’s steel is peerless. That’s all I knew. Now you’re a man who plays with fox kits.” After a moment she added, “And I’m sure you’ve come to learn plenty about me ever since I’ve come here.” About how improper a princess she was. And it hadn’t seemed to put him off at all. That had become her greatest fear.
“Yes,” he said. “But there’s more, isn’t there?”
“Yes,” it was her turn to say, and she made it a promise.
They didn’t stay much longer, as Rendel was surely looking for the king by now. Despite her earlier dire predictions, they made it safely back to the city. She hoped it wasn’t too obvious whenever he helped her down the steep path that she was inclined to let his touch linger.
Breakfasts became a sun-bright point in her day, a time when she could luxuriate in his presence. Would she ever lose this hypersensitivity to him? Her pulse quickened and her face flushed whenever she was near him, and she couldn’t tell whether spring was descending or if she felt warmer in his presence. They spoke more often and easily, and she even made him laugh twice more. Now she knew why she was counting. She wanted to unfold him and trace the latticework of his thoughts, the pathways to his heart. She knew some of them, his love for his realm, for the outdoors, for animals. But what about her?
At first she was subtle, eating breakfast as slowly as possible to make it last longer and accompanying him when he went out into the city even on snowy days—”To learn what you do,” she said, all conscientious queen-to-be. But although he seemed to welcome her presence, he treated her with the same solicitous respect as always. It was almost enough to make her regret ignoring the games of flirtation among Anagard nobles.
It eventually dawned upon her that she would have to be more direct. He’d made the first move, after all, by asking for her as bride. It was her turn to let him know how she felt. She hoped they might return to the fox’s den, where she thought she might scrape up enough courage to ask him, but he always had duties to attend to that took him away after they ate together.
She turned to face him on the bench. “Tathan…”
“Yes?” A zephyr played carelessly with her hair. The mountain-king caught a strand, ran it through his fingers, and tucked it carefully behind her ear. Surely the wind wouldn’t dare steal it now that he had chosen where to place it.
His delicate touch made her think of the animals of the sword-dance. Crane, she decided. And I would be a mouse, for being too timid to even move. Jakkis would be ashamed of her, rightly so. This distant yearning was foolish. What was she afraid of? He had been the one to seek her out, and he must have had a reason. But I have no idea what it was.
She took a breath, let it out, tried again. “Why did you ask for me as bride?”
He set down his mug and looked at her seriously. “You came into the mountains once before.”
Her cheeks warmed as she remembered the time she had joined a band of Anagard soldiers intent on crossing through the pass and raiding Kenasgate. It had taken months for her hair to grow out to a respectable length again.
But he didn’t mention her disguise. Instead he said, “You almost shot at a hare.”
“I did shoot at it,” she said, remembering. “I missed.”
“On purpose.”
It was true, although the other soldiers had laughed and then blamed her for their lackluster supper that night. But although she’d done her share of hunting, her targets were more often pinecones and abandoned beehives than actual game. She hadn’t seen the need to kill the hare, not when they were preparing to kill men and bring about more than enough death. She was glad now that she hadn’t seen the raid through to the end. She probably wouldn’t have been able to stomach it.
“How do you know these things?” she wondered, then answered herself, “You know everything that happens on your mountain.”
“But then you left the mountain.”
The soldiers had discovered her identity and returned her to Anagard. Although in some ways it had been a relief, it was also a humiliation she preferred not to remember.
“Whenever my people went to the riverlands to trade, I asked for word of you,” the mountain-king continued. “They tried, but there was little to hear.”
Because her brother had done his best to suppress any tales about her. “You should’ve come yourself.” The betrothal would’ve come as less of a rude surprise if only she had met her husband-to-be first.
He shook his head. “I never leave Helsmont, although I wanted to. I was shocked. I am the mountain-king. How could I be intrigued by a riverlands girl?”
“Yes, tell,” she said brightly.
He turned his head to regard her. “Perhaps that’s why. My people bear me too much respect, while you show me none at all. Because you care about other matters, like how a man treats his horse. You’re bold yet kind, and I thought you might come to know me beyond my trappings and find something to your liking.”
He hoped I’d find him to my liking? He has no idea how I feel? To be fair, she didn’t know what drew people to one another. She’d had a childhood infatuation on a boy in the stables, which had led to a far longer-lasting interest in horses, but she couldn’t remember what had attracted her to him besides his roguish good looks and the soft voice he’d used to beguile the horses.
Dereth had struck up a flirtation with a wealthy merchant’s daughter before their father had died. He had said it was because she actually listened to him. Now that he was king, she supposed too many people listened, and he surely sought something else in a woman.
Emeray had once brought Samir a baked treat while he was at the keep, and when she had left, he said quietly, “I knew I had to marry her when I went to sleep remembering the smell of flour.”
Usually when Kimri went to sleep, she was thinking of how cold her feet were. Lately, though, her dreams were restless, and she didn’t know what name to give to the longings she woke with.
She’d been quiet too long. The mountain-king began to rise.
She grabbed at him, catching hold of the shoulder of his cloak and a fistful of the tunic beneath. “I do like you. You let me be myself.” She willed him to understand how much that meant to her.
She caught him off guard, and he nearly fell on top of her but braced himself with a fist against the bench. “Kimri—”
She was afraid of what he would say. His face was close, and she brought hers even closer.
Their noses bumped. She found his upper lip. Then he did something to realign their mouths, and they were kissing, sweetly, deeply. She twined her arms around his neck, trying to bring herself closer to his heat.
He broke her embrace and stood abruptly, drawing in deep breaths.
“Tathan,�
�� she said, lingering over his name, and reached for him again.
He caught her hands, tangling their fingers together so she couldn’t touch him as she wished. “I would do you honor.”
She didn’t understand at first. “What greater honor could there be but to be the one you share your foxes with, this impossible color of sky…” There had never been such a blue in the riverlands. There had never been such a man, proud and beautiful.
He smiled and his thumb stroked her palm. “The honor of a full year before we claim each other as mates.”
Her cheeks burned as she realized his meaning. “Do the people of Helsmont not exchange kisses without anything further?”
He leaned over and kissed her very gently. She missed the feel of his lips as soon as they left hers. “Don’t tempt me, wildling.”
She kissed him one more time, just to show him they were stopping because she wanted to, then tugged him back down on the bench and turned around to lean her back against him. He folded his arms around her. Here was a source of warmth she’d been sadly underutilizing. “What happens now? Can we be wed?”
“It takes four seasons,” he reminded her. “I’ll tell Rendel he can make preparations for the first day after the betrothal year ends, but we must wait till then. The ceremony’s only a formality, but one your brother will probably appreciate.”
“I’m sure he will.” She thought about the letter she would write him, and couldn’t help grinning. “He’ll never believe I caught your interest by disguising myself as a soldier. He thought it was the deepest shame brought down upon our family in four generations.”
“Why did you do it?”
“Dereth was off leading some battle and all I was expected to do was to stay home and embroider a war banner.” That sounded too flippant. “Our father had just died and I confused that to mean I could do as I liked. I overheard one of the commandants in the stables talking about a planned raid, and I thought that if Dereth could go out and fight, why couldn’t I? So I stole some leathers, cut off my hair and rode out with the troop. They knew I wasn’t supposed to be with them, but they thought I was a boy deemed too young to fight, eager for his share of war, and they pretended that I fooled them. It was the first time anyone besides Dereth treated me just like anyone else. They swore and joked and talked of women in front of me, and they trusted me to do things on my own—simple tasks about the camp, but still. The way you let me go about the city by myself.”