CHAPTER 43

QUEEN MALINA

We sit here at Orea's edge for a while. Watching the fog and feeling the biting air while we savor the silence together.

Then, Dommik gets up and carefully helps me back to my feet. When we start walking again, he continues on instead of heading back the way we came toward the ruins.

I dart a questioning look his way, but he says nothing.

After a couple more minutes, just as it begins to start snowing, I spot something in the distance. I squint, trying to figure out what it could be. "What is that?"

"Well, I'm not positive, since I'm not as versed in history as you, but I believe…this used to be Seventh Kingdom's capital city. Or what's left of it."

My eyes widen as I take in the sight. Dommik is right. There's a road. Or I think it may have been a road a very long time ago. Now, it's only patches of flat stone upon the snow, still bricked together in some places. The only reason we can even see it is because the wind seems to have dislodged a snow drift, leaving the patchwork of the ancient street exposed.

Judging by the distance from the castle, I'd say this could be considered the outskirts of Cauval City. And there, just beside the remnants of the quilted bricks, is a single building, that somehow managed to keep existing after all this time.

"I didn't think anything was still standing."

"Me either," Dommik replies.

Together, we make our way toward it. There isn't any roof, but three walls stand, one of them arced with the space where a window used to be. We skirt around to the inside of the walls and see the snow gathered in tall piles at each corner.

"There must have been a lot of it that collapsed," I murmur as I trail my hand down the rough stone.

"I don't think so," Dommik tells me as he looks it over. "I think this was it."

Surprised, I glance around the space. "It's so small."

"I grew up in a house about this size."

I pause at that. Dommik rarely talks about himself, so it's hard for me to imagine his life. Admittedly, I've never been very good at putting myself in other people's shoes. "You did?"

He smirks my way. "We don't all live in castles, Queenie."

"I know that, it's just…" I stop at the hole where the window used to be.

Dommik comes up beside me. "It's jarring to see the view from someone else's life?"

"Yes." I nod before my gaze falls down to the corner of the window space. There are little grooves sliced into it. Perhaps they were caused by time. Or perhaps many, many years ago, someone dragged down these marks into the stone with purposeful scrapes.

It's strange to think of someone else once living here, of having a full life, while I now stand in their echoes.

Lifting my hand, I bring my magic up, creating a thin sheet of ice within the window cut-out until it looks just like a pane of glass.

Dommik raps his knuckle against it lightly. "Very nice."

Then I turn, both hands pressing against the stone, and I make more ice spread up. Slowly fixing the parts of the home that have crumbled and fallen away. I encase us, even making an arcing ceiling above that closes out the flakes of snow, though I leave a small doorway open for us to slip out of.

Dommik glances around, and now that the walls are all closed up, it makes the space seem even smaller than before. Yet there's a feeling about this place—it's calming. There's something about it that makes me wish to stay a bit longer.

Just then, my stomach growls loudly. I place a hand on my middle as mortified warmth spreads across my cheeks.

Dommik grins over at me. "That must be the dinner bell."

I scowl at him as he reaches up and undoes the clasp of his cape. "What are you doing?"

Instead of answering, he shakes it out and turns it over, and then lays it upon the snow. "Sit."

Keeping still, I watch as he then takes a satchel from his belt and starts pulling out food and placing it on the cloak. He unwraps a piece of bread, cheeses, meats, strange fruits I've never seen before, and even a teardrop-shaped bottle that appears to be a deep red wine.

Dommik sits down on one corner of the cloak and then gestures to the other side, waiting. I hesitate for a moment longer and then sit down across from him, tucking my legs beneath me. The snow we sit on is surprisingly soft and pillowed, like it drifted in to help cushion our bodies. And since Dommik's cloak is lined with leather, it's not soaking through.

I glance down, watching Dommik as he starts to tear off pieces of everything with meticulous neatness. Bread first, then a bit of cheese and a slice of salted meat, all stacked on top of each other. He hands it to me first, and I take it, realizing that I can actually smell the food instead of gruesome death.

"The stench. It's not spread over this way."

He only nods, and I realize that's why he brought us out here. As soon as he knew the smell was bothering me, he got me away from it.

Something softens in my chest as I watch him break off the same bits of food until he has his own stack. Then he raises it to me, waiting. Only when I lift it to my lips does he mimic the movement, both of us watching each other as we start to eat.

Surprisingly, the flavor of the food is delicious, the meat rich and the cheese perfectly creamy. Even the bread isn't a hardened chunk of stale wheat. This is actually still tender, as if it was freshly baked.

"Say what you will about the fae, but their food is fucking good," Dommik says around a mouthful.

Amusement fills me, because he's right. I realize now, away from the burning corpses, that I'm too famished to be prideful about not wanting to eat their food. Plus, it really is delicious.

The two of us have another stack, and then he peels open the purple and red fruits, revealing squishy pods inside that burst with sweet flavor. We finish those off too, licking the syrup from our fingers. Then Dommik yanks out the cork of the bottle with his teeth and takes a swig. I watch his throat bob as he drinks, face warming when he catches me staring.

He only smirks and passes it over, and I lift it slightly, giving it a sip.

"Not like that, Queenie," he chastises. "Give it a good swig. Like you mean it. Like you're out here at the edge of the world and you can say, ‘Fuck it. I'm going to gulp down this fairy wine and hope it warms me up or gets me drunk—or both.'"

My lips curl, but then I do just that, lifting the bottle high up, letting the liquid start pouring down. I take a big swallow, then another before I pass it back to him with a cough that makes him grin.

"How did that feel?" he asks.

The airy heat dissipates from my throat enough for me to answer. "Surprisingly, rather good."

"Good."

We pass the bottle back and forth a few more times, until I'm relaxed and languid, feeling the warmth of the wine settle in my stomach.

I lean back against the wall of the house and shake my head. "I used to be bored with life," I admit as I look around the frosty walls. "Now I wish that all this danger and uncertainty would go away. To feel bored again would be a gift."

"Life has a way of teaching us things."

I nod at that as I glance up at the ice ceiling, watching snow land upon it like icing sugar. Dommik cleans up the food and then sits next to me, putting his arm behind my back and letting me tuck into his side. My heart squeezes in my chest.

"What has life taught you?" I ask, lifting my head to study his handsome face. The strong cut of his jaw, the patches of light skin around his mouth and nose, his black beard trimmed against his chin, and his hair gathered at his nape. I itch to trail my hand over his features and turn his face so I can look at his dark eyes and count the light flecks in them.

He lets out a huffing laugh. "Where do I even start?" he says. "I've learned a lot of things. But I believe it just taught me one of the most valuable lessons of all."

"Which is?"

"That one kill can actually lead to life," he answers, looking down at me with a weightiness to his words and a significance to his gaze. When he lifts his hand to grip my neck and drag a thumb along my jaw, I can't quite breathe, because I'm hanging on each low word he speaks and every inch of his touch. "And that something that seems so cold can actually be the warmest thing you'll ever feel."

I swallow hard and lean in closer, as if seeking more of him.

"What has life taught you, Malina?" he asks, and my chest constricts at the sound of him rumbling my name.

"Painful things and hard lessons," I answer honestly. "Everything I didn't want but desperately needed."

"You're a different woman than you were in that gilded castle."

"I certainly hope so." My answer is quiet, because inside, it holds a fear. One that rolls right off my loosened tongue. "But I'm afraid that it's not true."

Dommik frowns down at me. "Why would you think that?"

"What if I only think I've become a better person?" I ask shakily. "What if I find myself months, years from now, sitting in some lavish room in some pretty life, and as soon as I have that back, I also go back? Back to behaving and thinking the same way as before. Perhaps I'm still a nasty, bitter woman with a cold heart, and all of this is only because of fear and desperation."

He's quiet for a moment, his hand moving up to grip a part of my hair and rub the white strands together. "There could've been a chance for that, sure. That once the danger is gone, you'd revert to the way you were before. But I know you won't. I know you've truly changed from how you were before—do you know how?"

"How?"

"Because you chose to leave…and then stay, and leave, and then stay again."

I frown at him in confusion, and he starts counting on his fingers. "Leave: you begged me to help get you out of Seventh so you could warn your people. Stay: you chose to stay in Highbell even when it was under attack, even when it seemed like all was lost. Leave: you chose to leave Highbell again, once it was secure and your people were safe inside the castle, so you could come here…" He holds up a fourth finger. "And stay, because you're here . Choosing to remain at the bridge, doing everything you can to protect this world even under great threat to yourself."

My heart pounds with his words, and he drops his hand to press it over the organ, as if he can feel its pulse. "Your heart has changed. Bit by bit. The Cold Queen isn't so cold anymore."

His words leave me trembling, but then I let out a confession that feels like it's been scraped raw from my depths. "I don't want to be cold anymore, Dommik."

His eyes soften. "I know."

He shocks me by gently shifting me, arms picking me up and then settling me down until I'm lying on my back while he braces himself over me.

My breath catches. "What are you doing?"

"I'm kissing you properly, Queenie. The way you should've been kissed and adored before shitty men came into your life and took you for granted. Took you for their advantage. Took and took until you felt like you had to be cold to protect that shattered warmth."

Tears spring to my eyes and flake off against my cheeks.

"May I have permission to kiss you, Malina?"

His formal question makes my chest squeeze. "Yes," I say quietly.

Dommik lowers his lips to mine, and my eyes flutter closed with the gentleness of his kiss. We've had stolen moments. A quick thrill. Bodies netting together in a frenzied pull of lust.

This is different.

There is no war hammering down around us. No impending death right around the corner. For the first time, we have time .

So we take it. Every single second.

He slowly strips me of my clothing, while I do the same for him. We get the chance to look at each other, to stroke and feel and explore. He drifts his lips down my body, and I drag my fingers over his.

I let myself feel every contour, every muscle, tracing every lightened patch across his dark skin. He seems to cherish every inch of my body, while I marvel at every dip and cleft of his.

I'm bared to him with far more than just my body, though. I feel as if he's bared my heart after I've kept it tucked away for so long.

Dommik caresses my breasts and strokes my hip, his mouth leaving chills in the wake of the path he takes along my neck. "Will you give yourself to me, Malina?"

Such a question.

One I've never been asked before. One I never even thought I was allowed to answer. If there was ever anyone I would willingly give myself to like this, it's Dommik, for he's the only one who has ever truly understood me.

The bad parts and the good.

"Yes," I whisper, feeling my chin wobble.

He carefully picks up my leg and drapes it over his hip, and then slowly, he enters me. I gasp at the intrusion from his body to mine, from his heat that seems to melt me from within.

My body stretches for him, and he starts to move in slow, decadent strokes, all while filling my ears with praise. "Do you feel us?" he asks as he kisses my lips, tilting me up to drag along a fissure of pleasure deep inside of me.

My answer is breathless and honest and driving with desire. "I feel us."

This joining is so different from our tryst back in Highbell. Soft snow peppers the ceiling. A low hum of the arctic wind fills the background. We're protected in this ancient house of ice and rock, everything else falling away so that I feel the two of us completely. Feel us inside and out.

It's not only time that Dommik and I have, but a gentleness too. A tender intimacy I've never experienced with anyone. Certainly not with Tyndall, who only took my body and then left me to wither. Not Jeo, who I was determined to use solely for pleasure. Dommik kisses me, makes love to me, with a tenderness that I once longed for yet never received.

A tenderness that both bleeds my heart and fills it all at once.

"No more doubting yourself, Malina," he says against my ear as he thrusts up deep, seating himself completely, rolling his hips in a way that nearly makes my eyes roll back. "You are beautiful. Strong. And so fucking warm." His hands grip my face, forcing me to look him in the eyes, while his shadows dance around us. "You are good , Malina. And I'm proud of the woman you are."

My body releases with pleasure and tears. An exultation laced with grief. I'm left amazed at how words can be woven together in such a way that they cause healing on wounds I'd long since ignored.

I clutch Dommik as he releases himself inside of me, pressing kisses to his shoulder and neck while his breath slows back to normal.

We lie together like this, tucked beneath scattered clothes and cloaks, wrapped up in Dommik's magic, and we sleep with skin and touch and warmth.

At this moment, nobody could accuse me of being cold.

Least of all, my heart.