“Which is why I walked away relatively unscathed.”
She pulled free of his grasp, and when he didn’t stop scowling at the bruise, tugged her sleeve down over her hand. Ger kept glaring at it regardless, and she knew he sat with his anger about as comfortably as she did.
“Wonder what your mother will make of it all,” he grumbled.
“Why on all of green Adhlas would I tell my mother?”
He laughed then, dry and nearly humourless – as humourless as Ger ever was, at least.
“If you don’t, someone else will. You know how word travels in the Silver Kingdom, Ade. We’re a nation of storytellers, after all.”
She pursed her lips around a sip of tea.
“They’re not going to hear about my rowdy escapades all the way up at the palace.”
At that, Ger gave a delighted little snort and threw an arm around her shoulders, the light creeping back to his eyes, twinkling wickedly.
“Oh please,pleaseremember this moment. Thisexactmoment. Ready?”
He cleared his throat, and spoke each word with gravity, enunciating every syllable like he was delivering some great prophecy.
“They willabsolutelyhear about this in every corner of the palace, without a shadow of a doubt.”
She shoved him away, scowling, but Ger just laughed and caught her hand in his once more, threading his fingers between her own.
“Mark my words, won’t you? You know how I love being right.”
Chapter 2
Adeline
Ger, as it turned out, would be thrilled.
He’d called it; the story made it to the palace. She’d barely set foot in the family drawing room that evening before her older sister was upon her, hands curling tight on her arms, her lovely face crumpled with distress.
“Adeline! I’ve been so worried, is it true?”
Adeline blinked, more taken aback at the sudden assault on her space than anything else.
But Mareda just gazed back at her, blue eyes wide and imploring. You could drown in those eyes and whatever depths of feeling they held, as Adeline often had. If weren’t for Ger’s uncanny knack for predicting palace gossip, she might’ve found herself pulled under once more, fighting uselessly for the space to breathe.
She’d never tell Ger he was right of course, but she sent up a silent prayer of gratitude for him all the same. Then, missing barely a beat, she pulled back and wrinkled her brow, a mirror to Mareda’s own. Her sister’s frown deepened, a score in the marble smooth skin of her forehead.
“Please tell me it’s not true.”
“Oh, Marry,” Adeline sighed. She shook her head, glanced away, bit her lip as she stared into the middle distance: “We were going to talk to you as a family but… I suppose you’re old enough to hear this now.”
Mareda’s grip on her arms loosened, confusion flickering over her features. Adeline let the tension thicken a moment, then gave another theatrical sigh.
“The Snow Saint isn’t real; your father is the one who delivers the presents on New Winter’s Eve. I’m so sorry.”
Mareda released her, perhaps a bit forcefully.
“Ade, be serious.”
“Where’s the fun in that?”
Adeline flashed a wide grin and stepped around her sister, into the room.
