Aili claps. Even Val leans in with a soft, “Ooh.”
I grin. “They turn transparent when wet. Winter blooming. Usually found in shaded frost pockets. Harmless, but beautiful.”
Val shakes her head, eyes bright with interest. “How do you know all this? Did you learn these facts at school? Come to think of it, aren’t the kids still of school age? Shouldn’t they be attending classes?”
It’s not accusatory. More…confused. Curious.
She’s growing with each day and every new revelation, and I just want to be a part of it. Maybe I can change her views. Maybe I can help her see the wild territories differently after this. When she eventually returns to her life, my words might stay with her in some small fashion, and make a difference for more than just my little beasties.
So while the kids take turns turning the blooms transparent, I face the lovely eyes that search mine and take a deep breath. “For one, we don’t stay anywhere long enough. But even if we did, schools for Wilder children are harder and harder to find. Most teachers had to leave when they couldn’t get paid. No one can manage without pay in the permafrost.”
Her gaze sharpens. “What happened to the Royal funding?”
I hate to make her feel any worse, but she deserves the truth, and it’s obviously been kept from her. “No one ever says why funding gets pulled. It just does. Even before the King’s death, programs for Wilder Fae were being cut. It’s the same thing that happened to our orphanage, the fire brigades, the town budgets.”
She flinches when I mention her father, and my heart clenches with it.
“There was talk about waste, but really, they just wanted to keep more in the coffers and to prop up Point Fae nobility. It got even worse when the Queen took over. Towns try to band together these days for children to get an education, even if it’s a cobbled-together patchwork of tutors and borrowed books. Thetrouble with the permafrost is that many families need their kids to work now to help, if there’s even work to be found. Or they move away.”
There’s a long pause. Wind stirs the trees, and a few flakes drift down like ash.
“So you teach them,” she says. Her voice is low, her face serious. She’s tucking this away, storing the information for a future purpose I won’t be around to see. I know so little of her world behind those polished gates, all gilded marble and revels and political maneuvering. Maybe this is the first time the injustices of this world feel personal to her.
Before I can say something dumb, Katja breaks in, nudging Mika on the way. “We’re taking Eevi and heading up to the spring. Siblings only.”
I narrow my gaze at her, but the feisty fae just stares back.
“Okay,” I agree. “On the condition that you each draw me a different plant you find up there. When we get back to the cottage, we’ll identify them all and their uses. Oh, and keep an eye out for any moonpetal.” I hand Eevi’s sling over to Mika, who carefully secures the smiling child onto his back, ready for adventure. “Be good, and Hellion…no climbing the rocks near the water’s edge.”
“Obviously,” she singsongs, already halfway gone.
“Kat.”
“We’ve got her, Lark. And I bet the view from the ridge is just lovely today. Such pretty skies. Almost romantic,” the conniving half-pixie says with an innocent grin, her eyes dancing to the pink clouds as she skips off.
Juani runs off with a bark, quickly answered from down the path by a howl that can only be Helkki. Johannes joins in with several yips as they all take off. Their voices fade until only a far-off laugh carries on the whispering wind. I huff at Katja’s meddling. She’s worse than Hugo some days.
Turning, I find Val watching, hands shoved in her cloak pockets, hair escaping her hood in icy wisps. As it often does these days, the sight of her makes my heart skip.
I knew I’d be lucky to gain her help. I just didn’t know it would be like this. Like I’ve handed over my heart without her knowing it, despite my best efforts to guard it.
If it was just attraction—the expressive eyes, blue curls framed by a cloud of frosted breath, skin lit by soft daylight, those hips that don’t quit—I could handle it. I’ve had attractive partners before. But it’s her comforting presence, her stubbornness, and her addictive laugh that really get me. Whether sleep-rumpled or flour-dusted, she’s devastating.
I never expected all her little foibles would be so alluring, or that it would be so arousing to bring that glint of pride and confidence to her eyes when I teach her something new. It’s how she is with the kids—talking books with Katja, judging wrestling matches between the twins, winning Aili over with simple hair ribbons. She’s more dangerous than an ill-advised dip in the Ever Seas, and I’m starting to think a Kraken bite would hurt less when this ends.
And it will end. This is a temporary bargain. An act. Nothing real.
Someone please remind my heart.
Val brushes stray snow from her coat. “Now what?”
That adventurous glint in her eye is entirely too alluring. “Now we’re alone in the woods, darling fiancée. Try to keep up.”
I take off into the trees, laughing at her indignant “Oy!”
Soon my footsteps slow, and hers join mine.
She snorts. “Please. I’ve trained my whole life for this,” she says without explanation. “I can run circles around you, fiancé.”
