Let them see a true Wynterian ruler, one who wasn’t afraid to avenge her people.
I moved past the giant’s corpse and between Sainte and Kaen. As I passed my soldiers, they sheathed their swords and fell in step with me. I strode with purpose, navigating the corridors with brisk strides. Placing guards at strategic points served two purposes: clearing our path for a swift escape and to guide me on the way out.
I resisted the urge to run as my soldiers hummed the Wynterian anthem, falling in line behind me. Shouts erupted from the hall, but the men’s humming drowned out the chaos in our wake.
Clearly I had made an impression on King Reid, if his shouting was any indication.
We rode hard and fast. Kaen warned that lingering would risk King Reid’s wrath—and our lives. He needed time to stew, and he assured me there would be plans to smooth over the incident.
Politics involve give and take. We needed to cause a scene to make them think twice about harming one of our people, especially our ambassadors. Yet, I insulted the king himself. If left unaddressed, his bitterness would strain relations between our nations.
Kaen hinted that an invitation to the coronation would be in order. He proved invaluable, and I realized I wouldn’t be alone if I took the crown. People familiar with this political world were ready to help and guide me. I wouldn’t have to rule alone or without advice.
By the time the sun kissed the horizon at dawn, we crossed Wynterborne’s borders. Confident the God Stones hadn’t arrived during our absence, we opted to rest in the relative safety of our own land before pressing on to the castle.
Entering my room at the inn, I glanced out the window. The bubbles along the glass surface distorted the view, but allowed the sun’s first rays to filter in.After the door shut behind me, I spun around, biting my lip as I awaited Sainte’s reaction.
He turned toward me and halted. His expression shifted from relaxed and tired to confused and wary. Flecks of dried blood splattered his cheeks, and the crusted-over gash near his temple gave him a rugged appearance. The tear at the neck of his tunic revealed strong muscles beneath. Guarded blue eyes locked on me as he sidestepped, keeping his chest to me.
“Why are you walking like that?” I asked, a haughty smirk plastered on my cheeks.
“You look…” He trailed off, a frown pulling his brows together. He fumbled with the strap to his sheath crossed over his back.
My chin dipped with a playful tilt of my head. “I look like what?”
I wanted his approval—his validation. Despite winning two rites,thisfelt like a success. The prospect of claiming the crown seemed within reach. If thegodscontinued their elusive ways and offered their insight during the final rite, I just might handle the complexities of the political world.
His stare narrowed as he lowered his sheathed ax to the floor. “Different.”
“What kind of different?” I swished my skirts and headed to the washbasin atop the end table. After I dunked the rag into the frigid water, I pivoted on my heel when he offered no response.
The expression on that man’s face had me choking back my laughter. He took on giants, endured floggings and beatings, yet when faced with a woman’s emotions, he appeared as bewildered as a newborn calf.
“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he said, eyes darting to the rag, then to me.
I started toward him, adding a little extra sway to my strides. “What’s the fun in that?”
He fell silent, his form immobile as he collected his thoughts. I stopped close enough to feel the warmth of his breath on my cheek, then patted the damp rag along his wound, cleaning the dried blood. The gash, while not deep, had bled profusely, as head wounds do.
“Did I do well?” I finally asked, backing away.
Recognition and relief flashed across his features, and my heart swelled with warmth. Sainte embodied loyalty and resilience. His demeanor was unyielding and sharp, his physique robust and unwavering—yet even he had moments when he needed guidance.
He cleared his throat, unbuckling his belt. “You did. Kaen already told you. You were perfect.”
“I wanted to hear it from you,” I muttered, a satisfied grin spreading across my lips.
I rode a wave of confidence, exhilaration coursing through my veins. We hadn’t died, and we evaded imprisonment. While the gravity of a man’s demise should have been taken more seriously, I was far too elated to focus on that now.
He pulled his belt loose from his trousers, setting his daggers beside the bed. With slow strides, he closed in, pressing into my space. For a long moment, he peered into my eyes, then traced his fingers along my jaw while a faint smile played at the corner of his lips.
“You did well, Ellie.”
My grin widened until my cheeks ached. Pride swelled within me. It was a simple statement, just a few words—yet, coming from him, they meant everything.
“You did pretty good yourself,” I said, brushing my thumb near the gash on his temple. “Though, next time, do try not to damage my Valahant.”
“I’ll do my utmost,” he pledged, his eyes tracing down my face until they settled on my lips.
