Page 230 of Winter Gods & Serpents

I stood a few more moments to take in what laid in front of me, lost at the thought that I’d marry the king of Adriata.

The forest was smaller than Soren, but judging from the trees much older. Small sand-coloured stoned houses were built scarcely till they gradually grew clustered, and the city came into view.

“Amaris,” Mal explained beside me. “Built on the hill where Henah stepped for the first time in Adriata. The ground under grows glowing crystal of pure magic, they feed our mana and our crops. Mostly everything mimics the night sky in Adriata. The crown of trees we left behind glow under the full moon, the songbirds resting atop don’t fly they sort of fade like us and leave a trail of light behind, at night they look like falling stars. It is a change from Isjord, isn’t it?”

“It is.” I knew why they wanted to protect it so viciously, to think of losing such beauty I would grow claws as well.

The whole city beamed a warm white and gold, houses and buildings climbed towards and all around a large hill, fluttering violet flags with the Adriatian crescent moon crest atop each. An enormous castle filled its middle resembling a climbing citadel. The further up the hill we went the clearer the wide sea horizon stretched ahead. Blue clashed with white, the ground reflecting the day summer sky of Adriata. The salty breeze floated along the cobbled streets and the stone houses which were all dressed in climber plants and flowers, decorated in hues of violets, blues, and lilacs. Flower folk glistened under the sun, joyously traveling from bud to bud, something from a daydream. The streets begun growing lively, people halted, and all stared in surprise at us, children waved and chased behind. Whispers, gasps, and a few cries filled the air around us and I shuddered. I wanted to run, to sprint away, to cover my ears. I wanted to blast in waves, disappear.

The people that hated my mother, that hated all of us, that killed them, almost killed me. The ones that scarred me not only physically but whole, body, mind, and soul. I ached all over in remembrance. My hands tightened in fists almost digging in my palm. I felt a hand rest upon mine.

“Shall we ride quicker ahead?” Mal spoke gently and laced his hand with mine before I got a chance to dig new wounds.

My body steadied from the unconscious shaking, gathering control of my limbs, I nodded to him. All four of us rode ahead despite my uncle’s loud protest, we rode speedily ahead till the castle grounds grew into sight. It truly looked like a heaven of warmth, sunlight, and flowers, all three were everywhere, colour of all sort sprouted from bushes scattered all over, the castle was draped and trapped in blooming violet wisterias. A heaven indeed.

Mal directed us all down the castle corridors to our rooms till tomorrow, but my mind could no longer concentrate in taking in my surroundings. Kilian was still not here, he had not followed us when we took off from the rest of the group, my heart was uneasy.

* * *

Nia and Cai stood stiff perched on two chairs facing a balcony that overlooked a field of white roses stretched out to a cliff. I could not even sit down. The beige, gold, and white tones of the room were making me dizzy.

A knock sounded by my doors, somehow my heart began thundering in hope that it might be him, that I might get to say goodbye.

Without caution that it could be someone who could hurt me I swung it open. “Kil—”

Mal leaned in the frame almost devouring the whole of it, and smirked. “No, tis only I, the better brother.”

The evening dawned on us beautifully, a silken fabric of purples, oranges and reds wrapped Amaris like I’d rarely seen before. It seemed a vague dream, one you’d once dreamt years ago but still remembered. Winter gardens of Tenebrose paled in comparison to those of Amaris. Rows and rows of rainbow ribbons, perfume of summer and glare of sunset made for the most melancholic dusk before death.

The shadows chased behind full of life, deeper and darker while Mal guided us through the maze of scents, full of butterflies and flower folk, a heaven on land.

We halted and so did my breath at the dark beauty laying in front of me.

“These are his favourite,” he said, as I twirled around in fascination at the black roses blooming bigger in size than a tea plate. My mouth and eyes widened in astonishment, senses prickling in the sweetest smell of something between honey and fruit.

I traced the outlines of their petals and the smell of sugary pollen filled my lungs. “Have I scared him away, Mal, why is he not here to show me them himself?” I could no longer keep my questions in. It was not like Kilian to be this distant, I needed him today, now, and he was not there. I still felt his hands over my spine soothing me to sleep, his lips on my brow as he planted peck after peck or the sound of his laugh every time I’d complained of my frustration. The lack of his presence around me left a trail of cold and prints of longing. My goodbye…unsaid.

Mal picked a white carnation and weaved it through my hair. “Nothing like that, Snow, you just need to believe him, he will come to you.”

“What was he like when he was young? List me all his lovers.”

He laughed and swung a rose hitting my face.

We both sat by a garden bench, my hands carrying flowers Mal had picked for me, their aroma entrancing, almost glamouring me to mellowness, a perfumy distraction.

“Considerate, though he plays very bad at it he tries, so more like trying to be considerate. My mother, she was not treated very well by our father. He loved Kilian’s mother, and after she passed he was tied to a political marriage with mine not even months later after her passing. Everyone had a thing about disrespecting and mistreating her, more so our father, everyone but Kilian. He was cold, very cold. I thought he hated her, but he’d watch her knit and sow every evening, day after the other he sat with her just staring at her till he came with his own sowing case and learned it side by side her. They barely spoke but it made my mother happy, she was the happiest in the afternoons she spent with him.”

I took a deep breath trying to expand the tightening of my chest. “The knitted handkerchiefs he carries, where they done by him?”

“No, they were done by my mother. He would do hers and she would do his.” He reached onto his pocket and gave me a handkerchief with his mother’s initials atop. D.C, sewn in sage green with a little daisy aside.

I smiled widely, running my hand over the stitching, imagining Kilian’s hands over it. “Would you mind if I kept it?”

He smiled. “I have more if you would like.”

“I would want to have them all and all of him, and it would never be enough, for now a piece will do.” I said, tucking the cloth tight in my hand. “More, tell me more.”

He took a deep breath, leaning back on the bench. “Caring, almost too caring. Every time I put myself in trouble or caused trouble he always took responsibility for them,” he said, somewhat painfully. “Once a fat butcher beat a child for stealing a liver for his starving family and I thought it funny to uncage all his living stock and set it free.” He stopped to laugh at the memory. “Three large cows and loads of sheep, not a small stock at that, he had complained to our father right the next hour. But righteous Kil had taken all fault and silenced me by promise not to tell otherwise. He took twenty lashes in each hand from our father, barely a teen boy. My father was not lenient on us, never was, especially to him, but he got to training and lessons the next day, took care of his wound and cleaned them till they healed. He acted as if nothing had happened. He is almost hateable if you think about it.”