Chapter Eleven

ISA

W e went to the table where the diplomatic gifts were already arranged. My gift to Thadron was on one side. His was on the other. The table was attended by two ceremonial guards.

The crowd’s energy buzzed around us, the earlier shadows of suspicion now fading in the warmth of renewed celebration. I squeezed Thadron’s hand as we approached the gift table. My nerves fluttered in my chest, unsure if they were left over from the ordeal or in anticipation for what was to come.

The guards stepped aside with a respectful nod, revealing the carefully wrapped gifts. My gift to Thadron felt suddenly inadequate. My palms grew damp, and I stole a glance at him. His eyes held nothing but curiosity and warmth.

I picked up the gift and handed it to him, my fingers trembling slightly. “It’s not much, but I thought you might appreciate it.”

He smiled, unwrapping it with careful precision. The moment the cover of the Book of Frost appeared, his eyes widened. He ran his fingers along the spine. “A collection of Earth’s winter fairy tales and poems?” His voice was hushed, almost boyish in its wonder.

I nodded, the nerves loosening their grip on me. “I know your world has its own stories, but I thought you might enjoy these. They’re tales of magic and warmth in the cold.”

He turned the pages gently, the delicate crackle of paper filling the space between us. His lips curled into a smile that made my heart flutter. “This is perfect, Isa. A glimpse into your world. Thank you.”

Relief surged through me, followed by a wave of affection. But before I could respond, he reached for his own gift, a box of carved crystal glinting with iridescent hues.

“Now, it’s your turn,” he said, his voice rich with anticipation.

I accepted it, my breath catching as I lifted the lid. Nestled inside was a string of gemstones that shimmered in hues of sapphire and ice blue. They glowed with a soft, inner light.

“Thadron,” I whispered.

He took the necklace from the box, holding it up so the light danced along the facets. “These gems come from different regions of Glaciara. Each one contains an ancient song of affection.” His gaze met mine, unwavering. “I made this for you. There was never any doubt who those songs were meant for.”

My vision blurred as tears welled. I turned around, and his fingers brushed the nape of my neck as he fastened the clasp. The stones rested coolly against my skin, but a warmth bloomed in my chest, spreading outward.

“It’s perfect,” I said, my voice thick with emotion. “I’ll treasure it, just like—” My words faltered, but his eyes told me he understood.

“Just like I treasure you,” he finished. "You've not only restored the love of winter festivities in me but also joy that I thought was lost forever.”

Thadron turned to face the crowd, his hand slipping from mine, but the warmth of his touch lingered. The hall quieted, all eyes drawn to him as he raised his glass. His voice, steady and deep, filled the room.

“For too many winters, I’ve kept to silence and isolation, believing it was the only way to honor those I led into battle. Those who never returned.” He paused, the weight of his words settling on the room. “I realize now that hiding away was not the way to remember them. Their sacrifice ensured the safety of Glaciara, the joy of nights like this. It is because of them that we stand here, together.”

A hush swept through the hall. Lucian stepped forward, his voice warm and resolute. “And because of your mastery in battle, brother.” He raised his own glass. “We are grateful to you, too.”

A look of brotherly love passed between them. Thadron raised his glass. “To the brave of Glaciara.” He turned to me. “And the grace of loved ones across this world and others.”

A ripple of agreement passed through the crowd. Glasses lifted high, and a chorus of voices echoed cheers.

I raised my glass, my gaze fixed on Thadron. Admiration swelled in my chest. As he took a sip, his eyes met mine again, and the promise in his gaze was clear. He wasn’t alone anymore.

Neither of us were.