She studies me with a questioning look. Though I regret that our excursion was cut short, perhaps the storm was a blessing in disguise. It distracted her from her thoughts of Braemar and her family.
I am not even certain what I might’ve said to comfort her otherwise. I certainly would not have promised to take her home.
No. I will not be parted from her.
Come what may, she is mine.
“I’ve never seen a storm like that before,” she says. “A fierce snowstorm swept down on Braemar just before the Winter Court army attacked, but it was nothing like this.” She gestures toward the windows where snow swirls so thickly that the mountains aren’t even visible.
“Storms such as this were once quite common in the Winter Court,” I say, remembering the blizzards that sometimes raged for days around the mountain manor my parents built after leaving Vaelnor. “It pleases me that such storms are now appearing in human and orc lands as well.”
“It pleases you?” she asks softly. “Why is that?”
“Because it means there is a strong concentration of ussha specifically from Winter Court lands in this region. The ice clouds are already evidence of that, of course, but the storms are as well. Winter Court magic is spreading.”
A thoughtful look falls over her. She turns away from the windows and gazes at the fire, and I sense she’s thinking about the days to come. Not just her own future, but the future of the realm itself. She’s wondering what the human and orc lands will look like a few hundred years from now.
If I told her that she would live long enough to see it, would she believe me?
She is my mate, and as long as we physically consummate our union and she remains at my side, she will absorb my winter magic, allowing her lifespan to match mine. She will likely live for thousands of years. Given her adventurous heart, I can’t help but think she would be buoyed by the news. Yet I remain hesitant to reveal what we truly are to one another.
Soon, I tell myself.
Perhaps by the end of our time in Ellonnar, she will have warmed to me enough that I can trust she won’t outright reject our mating bond.
But then my thoughts drift to Vaelnor and the black frost. Am I deceiving her by keeping parts of my past from her? Though the black frost hasn’t been seen since the day of my birth, the recurring dreams and the shadow figure that often lurks at the edge of my vision still unsettle me.
The wind howls louder outside, and she suddenly scoots closer to me on the sofa. After she flushes, I realize it wasn’t intentional. The sound of the storm simply startled her, and she instinctively moved closer to me for protection.
I shift nearer to her as well, allowing our thighs to touch, and wrap an arm around her. She freezes for a brief moment, but eventually she leans her head into the crook of my arm and emits a contented sigh.
My spirits soar.
She is softening toward me.
I can sense it.
And as I hold her close before the roaring fire while the wind howls wildly outside, I come to a startling realization. For the first time in my life, I feel anchored in place. I no longer feel the restless urge to run—or fly away—in search of the safety of solitude.
I only want to remain here. With Gwen.
The wind roars louder beyond the walls of the inn, and I draw her more deeply into my arms. She does not resist. Instead, her fingers curl lightly into my shirt, and she soon relaxes against my chest, even emitting another soft sigh.
Warmth fills me. I press a quick kiss atop the crown of her head, breathing in her lavender scent. I delve my fingers into her soft, luxurious hair and start caressing, unable to stop touching her. If I thought she wouldn’t protest, I would lift her into my lap and cradle her even closer to my chest.
Then I feel it. Her utter contentment. It reaches me easily as her mind brushes against mine. She likes the coziness of the suite and the warmth of the fire, finding it a pleasing contrast to the storm raging outside, but she also likes being in my arms. A sense of safety flits through her, and I concentrate harder, trying to discern her exact thoughts.
I nearly growl when they finally reach me.
This moment feels perfect, she thinks.Too perfect. Why do his arms feel like the sweetest refuge? Why does he continue treating me with such gentleness? He’s a highborn fae lord. A soldier from the Winter Court army. His people conquered mine, and yet the more time I spend around him, the less he feels like my enemy.
I kiss the crown of her head again and continue listening to her thoughts, pleased by what I’m hearing.
Yes, she will soon surrender to me.
She will soon agree to consummate the mating bond.
My mate. My dearest Gwen.
