The Winter King

by C. L. Wilson

  “I—of-of course. I would like that very much.”

  Clearly, he’d shocked her. Wynter discovered he liked shocking her. He liked the way darker color flooded her cheeks, turning that beautiful brown skin a dusky rose.

  “Go change into your riding habit. I’ll meet you by the stables. Ladies.” He bowed to the women of his court.

  The gossip was buzzing before he even left the room. Good. His queen, who had been an outcast in her own home all her life, would not be an outcast in his.

  Yesterday, Khamsin had accused him of sabotaging her efforts to fit in with his court and his people. He hadn’t deliberately set out to do so, but he couldn’t pretend that his determination to avoid her hadn’t resulted in precisely that outcome. And Galacia was right, too. He had failed in his duty to look after Khamsin properly. He had contributed to her alienation and misery—he, who was bound by the laws of Wintercraig, to put her well-being before his own.

  That disgraceful lack of care ended today.

  Over Valik’s objections, they rode out alone, without a single guard in attendance. Not the King and Queen of Wintercraig, but Khamsin and Wynter, husband and wife.

  Thanks in no small part to the storm, he and Khamsin had generated yesterday, Wintercraig lay buried under three feet of fresh snow. Tree boughs sagged under the weight accumulated on their branches. Travel was possible only because crews of men had been working around the clock since the end of the storm to clear the main roads. Piles of packed snow six feet deep lined the thoroughfares.

  Khamsin eyed the wintry scene with open dismay. “Did we do this?”

  Wyn hesitated. Even though the ferocity of their storm had faded when anger turned to passion, he hadn’t thought to disperse it until hours later. The new accumulation of snow was definitely their fault. He wouldn’t lie to her, but neither did he want her fretting all day over something they could not change, so he said, “Winter storms have swept the Craig long before you or I were born. It’s the price of living in one of the most beautiful lands in all of Mystral.”

  “You didn’t answer my question.”

  “Noticed that, did you?” His mouth twisted in a wry smile. “All right, yes, the storm we called—you and I together—brought the snow. But it would have come on its own some other time. Blizzards far worse than the one we called are commonplace in the Craig. And we need the snow, Khamsin. We thank Wyrn for sending it. Come spring, the waterfalls will flow from the mountaintops, and our land will turn green and lush and more beautiful than any place in the world.”

  That mollified her enough to wipe the dreadful guilt from her gaze. She leaned back in the saddle and gazed at the breathtaking scenery around them.

  “I can’t deny it is beautiful.” The mountains of the Craig towered into clear, cloudless blue skies, their jagged black peaks now entirely covered in flows of white. The valley and forested lowland mountains sparkled in the sunlight like the pristine crystalline perfection of the Atrium’s ice forest. “You’re sure we didn’t hurt anyone? No one got caught out in the storm?”

  “Winterfolk know how to survive blizzards,” he assured her. “No one goes out at this time of year without protective gear and supplies enough to weather a bad storm. And that includes me.” He patted the saddlebags and blanket roll tied to the back of his saddle.

  “What about the snow on the mountains?” She eyed the towering peaks. “Krysti warned me about the danger of avalanches when we were out riding.”

  “They are always a danger,” he admitted, “but since before my grandfather’s time, we have sent teams of men in the mountains to keep the snowpacks under control.”

  “How do they do that? Are they weathermages?”

  He smiled. “No. They’re ordinary Wintermen who climb the mountains after every storm to measure the ice packs, and when necessary, start smaller avalanches to clear the snow.”

  “And that works?” She looked plainly skeptical.

  “There are still deadly avalanches, of course, but far fewer than before.”

  They had reached Skala-Holt, the furthest distance west of Gildenheim Khamsin and Krysti had ever ridden. The villagers Khamsin had been trying so hard to win over stopped in their tracks when she rode in with Wynter at her side.

  “I’m hungry,” Wynter announced. “How about you? The pub here serves a delicious venison stew.”

  Khamsin hesitated. Liese, Skala-Holt’s pubkeeper who’d lost her husband in the war, had made it clear Khamsin wasn’t welcome in her establishment. Oh, Liese had never outright refused to serve Wintercraig’s queen, but her thinly veiled hostility and curt tone had made Kham and Krysti’s few visits to the pub very uncomfortable.

  “It’s already getting late,” Kham hedged. “We should be heading back.”

  But Wynter had already brought Hodri to a halt beside the pub’s front door. “We’ll eat here,” he said. He dismounted and came around to help Khamsin down. He handed the reins of their mounts to a waiting stablelad and, with a cool nod to the gathering villagers, put a hand on the small of Kham’s back and escorted her into the pub.

  A fire burned merrily in the hearth. Half a dozen villagers were seated at the bar and tables. Liese, the pubkeeper, started to scowl when she saw Khamsin walk through the door, then froze when Wynter ducked in behind her and straightened to his full height. All conversation in the room ceased.

  “Your Grace.” Liese came around the pub’s bartop. Her gaze darted nervously to Khamsin’s face. “Your Grace.” She dipped an awkward curtsy.

  “Good day, Liese,” Khamsin murmured.

  “I was just singing the praises of your venison stew to my queen,” Wynter said. “We’d like two bowls and a loaf of your fresh bread. And two pints of mead.”

  “Aye, Your Graces, right away.” The pubkeeper served them with more deference and alacrity than she’d ever shown Khamsin, and within minutes, they were enjoying a hot, simple meal of truly delicious stew and fresh, fragrant bread slathered with creamy butter.

  Wynter chatted with the other patrons as they ate, making a point of including Khamsin in the conversation. Several times, he reached across the table to lift Kham’s left hand and press a kiss against her wrist, a gesture not missed by his audience.

  When the meal was over. Wynter dropped a handful of coins on the table, thanked Liese for the excellent food and service, and ushered Khamsin out the door.

  “You didn’t have to do that,” she said as she stepped into his cupped hands for a boost into the saddle.

  Wynter played dumb. “I don’t mind helping you into the saddle.”

  She gave him a look, in response to which he arched a single, silvery brow and smiled a challenge. She sighed and shook her head. “I don’t need you fighting my battles.” She laid the reins across Kori’s neck, turning the mare back towards Gildenheim.

  “Wrong way, wife,” Wyn said as he swung into his saddle. “We’re headed west.”

  She frowned. “Shouldn’t we start back? We’re already going to be riding most of the way to Gildenheim in the dark.” It was mid-November, and the days were short, the sun setting by four o’clock.

  “We’re not going back to Gildenheim.”

  “Where are we going?”

  He smiled mysteriously. “You’ll see.”

  They rode west another three hours, stopping for the night at an inn in a small village called Riverfall. Khamsin had never met the villagers here, but with Wynter by her side, they were all smiles and warm welcome. They spent a pleasant night spooned together in a soft, warm bed whose rope springs squeaked so loudly Kham could hardly meet the innkeeper’s eyes without blushing the next morning.

  They set off again at first light, leaving the main road to follow a winding, recently cleared switchback road that zigzagged up the mountain.

  The forest was so peaceful. White, covered with pristine snow broken only by the
occasional tracks of wildlife. Every once in a while, a flurry of snow would topple from the branches of the trees, disturbed by a winter bird taking flight. The serene quiet was broken only by the steady clop-clop of their mounts’ hooves and the chime of the bridle bells.

  As they rode up the mountain, they passed a dozen Wintermen coming down, snow shovels strapped to their backs. The men murmured greetings and doffed their hats before continuing down the path Wynter and Khamsin had just traversed.

  Thirty minutes later, the cleared pathway ended at a small, frozen mountain lake, which had also been completely cleared of snow, leaving a smooth, silvery surface of thick ice.

  Wynter rode Hodri to the edge of the lake and tied his bridle to a tree next to a pile of hay that had been left atop a cleared section of snow.

  “Wynter?” What was this place? Obviously, he’d arranged for the road and pond to be cleared so he could bring her here, but she wasn’t sure why.

  He held up a hand to help Khamsin from the saddle.

  “Don’t you recognize it?”

  “No. Krysti and I never rode this far from Gildenheim.”

  “My family has a hunting lodge about an hour’s ride further up the mountain. We used to come here often when I was a boy. The ice gets thick, and the waterfall freezes every winter.” He pointed to an incredible spray of what looked like frosted white stalactites tumbling down the side of the mountain.

  The frozen waterfall looked strangely familiar though she was sure she’d never been here before. Then she processed Wynter’s comment about his childhood, and the pieces of the puzzle fell into place.

  “It’s the skating pond from the Atrium!” Now that she’d made the connection, she was shocked at how accurately Wynter had portrayed this spot. “Is there really a cave behind the waterfall?”

  “Why don’t you go see for yourself?” Wynter turned to the saddlebags strapped to the back of Hodri’s saddle and turned back with two pairs of metal blades fitted with leather straps. He patted a large rock. “Sit here, and I’ll put on your skates.”

  She eyed the skating contraptions with trepidation. “I don’t know how to skate.”

  “It’s not that hard. I’ll teach you.” He patted the rock again. When she made no move to do as he said, he arched one silvery brow. “You aren’t scared, are you?”

  That got her back up. “Of course not.”

  “Then come and let me help you with your skates.”

  Khamsin grudgingly went to sit on the rock. Wynter knelt before her and fitted the skating blade to the bottom of her boot. The blade itself was fastened to a hard layer of leather and metal. One set of leather straps tied around the toe of her boot, and another two sets crisscrossed around her heel, ankle, and foot to hold the skate securely in place.

  When he finished buckling her skates, Wynter sat beside her to don his own. He stood up and reached for her hands to help her to her feet.

  The skate blades immediately tilted sideways, and she fell against Wynter.

  “Find your balance. Don’t let your ankles fold. Try to stand upright on the blades.”

  She tried to straighten her ankles, only to have them fold the other direction. “Easier said than done.”

  “You can do it.” He steadied her as she straightened up again. “Good. Now just stand there for a minute. Get used to the feel of balancing on the blades. That’s really the hardest part of skating. Everything else is simple.”

  “All right.” She concentrated on keeping her ankles steady. It took a little effort, but all the riding and climbing she’d done with Krysti had strengthened the muscles of her calves and ankles and improved her balance significantly.

  “Try to stand without holding on to me.”

  When she felt steady, she loosened her grip on him, then let go completely. Her ankles wobbled a tiny bit, but she managed to retain her balance.

  “Well done. Now, let’s get you on the ice.”

  She nodded and held Wynter’s hand as he led her down the snowy bank to the opening in the wall of snow piled around the frozen pond. Wynter stepped onto the ice and glided backward several feet to give her room.

  The moment she stepped off the embankment onto the ice, her front foot began to slide out from under her.

  “Balance.” Wynter caught and steadied her. “Put both feet on the ice. Good,” he praised when she did so. “Now, bend your knees and lean forward. That’s it. You’re doing wonderfully. Now, just hold on to me, and I’ll lead you around the ice until you get the feel for the skates.”

  Khamsin held on to him for dear life, her legs and ankles wobbling terribly as he skated backward and pulled her slowly around the perimeter of the frozen pond.

  “You say some people actually enjoy this?” she asked, as they started their second circuit.

  He laughed. The low, throaty sound shivered up her spine. “Thoroughly, min ros. You’ll understand once you get the hang of it. Now, I want you to put your weight on your right foot and start pushing off with your left. Yes, like that. Don’t worry. I’ve got you. I won’t let you go.”

  “I thought you were going to show me the cave behind the waterfall,” she reminded him, as they circled the pond a third time.

  “That was my excuse to get you out on the ice. It’s there, I promise. When you feel ready, you can skate over there and see for yourself.”

  “I didn’t realize you were so sneaky.”

  “Are you not having fun?”

  “I suppose.” She was actually. He was smiling. The fresh air, white snow, blue sky, and bright golden sun made her feel happy and light-hearted. It was a perfect, beautiful day. The kind of day he’d sculpted in the Atrium. The kind of day he’d known so many of as a child.

  And then she realized what he was doing.

  He was giving her a memory of her own to cherish.

  The knowledge robbed her of breath and made her throat go suddenly and painfully tight. She blinked back the rush of tears that blurred her vision and threatened to spill over and embarrass her. She coughed to loosen her throat and looked away to hide her unsettled emotions.

  “Did you bring Elka here, too?” Good glory! Where in Halla’s name had that come from? “I’m sorry,” she babbled. “Don’t answer that. It’s none of my business.”

  “You are my wife. Of course what came before in my life is your business, just as what came before in your life is mine. And, no, I never brought her here. She wasn’t much of a skater.”

  Kham bit her lip. She was curious about Wynter’s former betrothed and had been for a long while. Fear of broaching a too-touchy subject and losing what small gains she’d made among the noblewomen had kept her from asking anyone at court about her. But Wynter had just opened that door and invited her in.

  “What was she like? Elka, I mean.” What about her had so entranced first Wynter, then Falcon that had led two kingdoms to war?

  He shrugged. “Tall, cool, beautiful, restrained with her emotions. She had her passions, of course, but she kept them hidden most of the time.”

  In other words, the exact opposite of Khamsin. “Do you wish I were more like her?”

  His head whipped around. “Good goddess, no!” He looked completely shocked. “Have I ever given you cause to think so?”

  “No . . . but you like her cousin very much. Don’t deny it.”

  She squawked in surprise when Wynter caught her about the waist and pulled her up against him, leaving her feet dangling above the ice. His head swooped down to claim her lips. He kissed her thoroughly, driving the breath out of her lungs and every last thought of Reika Villani out of her mind. When he set her back on her feet, she nearly went sprawling in an ungainly heap of boneless limbs and jellied muscles.

  “You have no cause for concern on that score, min ros. Reika Villani is an old family friend and Valik’s cousin. She has never been any more than t
hat to me, nor ever will be. You, on the other hand, are much, much more and have been since the moment I first set eyes on you.” He cupped her chin and ran a thumb over her lower lip. His eyes followed the same path with thrilling intensity. “Your father thought he scored a victory over me when he tricked me into marrying you instead of one of your sisters, but he unwittingly gave me the one daughter I wanted most.”

  “H-he did?”

  Wynter smiled, a slow, devastating smile that nearly melted her where she stood. “Oh, yes. Never doubt it.”

  As abruptly as it had appeared, the smoldering intensity in his eyes winked out, and he pushed her back to arm’s length.

  “Now, I want you to keep skating, but this time, only hold one of my hands. If you need to stop, for any reason, don’t panic. Just bend your knees slightly inward and push out with one or both of your feet. Like this.” He released one of her hands and skated a half circle around her, stopping with a sideways motion that scraped a fine layer of powdered ice off the frozen surface of the pond. “See?”

  “Uh-huh . . .” Khamsin held Wynter’s one hand in a death grip. “All right. Here goes.” She pushed off with her left foot, the way he’d shown her. Her ankles wobbled. The skates slid on the ice. She flung her free arm out to the side to steady herself. She started falling backward, and in a panic, lunged for Wynter.

  He caught her around her waist to steady her. “I’ve got you. Don’t panic. Just bend your knees. Lean forward over your skates. Keep your balance centered over the skates. There. All right. Try that again.”

  “I think maybe skating isn’t for me.”

  “I had no idea I’d married such a coward.”

  “Neither did I, but apparently we were both wrong.”

  He laughed. “No, we weren’t. I wed a fierce and fearless Summerlass with lightning in her hair and a storm in her eyes. Come now, eldi-kona. Show me what you’re made of.”