Chapter 10

CHAPTER TEN

“ N ow tell me what’s wrong,” Rudi demanded as soon as the door closed behind them.

Clarice looked up at him anxiously, her face worried. His protective instincts immediately flared, his antlers growing brighter.

“Tell me what’s wrong, sweetheart,” he said, more gently this time. The endearment slipped out without thought, and he saw the corner of her mouth quirk upward despite the tension in her shoulders.

“It’s the Frost King,” she explained quickly. “He’s demanding the village hand over their land in exchange for power.”

“So that’s what he’s up to. That bastard,” he growled, pacing away from her. He ran his hand over his antlers, the crystal tips pulsing. “I warned them about him years ago.”

The words scraped from his throat, as memories of standing before the village council years ago flooded back—trying to explain how Eldrik had threatened him for producing his crystals, how the male’s greed would destroy them all. They’d dismissed his concerns, too caught up in Eldrik’s promises of prosperity.

His jaw clenched. “No one wanted to listen then.”

The bitterness of their rejection still tasted sharp on his tongue. He’d learned his lesson about trying to help people who’d already decided he wasn’t worth believing.

“I know they were foolish not to listen to you, but we can’t let this happen.

His resolve wavered, when she put her small hand on his arm. The warmth of her touch battled against the cold wall he’d built around his heart over the years. The urge to make her happy warred with his deep-seated mistrust of the villagers.

“They made their choice long ago,” he said gruffly. “Let them deal with the consequences.”

“And what about Lina? The other children?” Her soft voice held no judgment, only concern. “What happens to them when their homes freeze?”

Quilt swept over him at her words. The children didn’t deserve to suffer. And it isn’t only the children. The memory of the shopkeeper’s tentative friendship earlier that day niggled at his conscience. The male had shown him kindness, treated him like any other villager. Perhaps he wasn’t the only one who might have offered friendship if he’d given them a chance.

“You can’t punish an entire village for past mistakes,” she said, moving closer. Her sweet scent wrapped around him, soothing those past hurts. “Sometimes people need a second chance to do better.”

His shoulders tensed, but as much as he wanted to dismiss her words, her quiet presence beside him made that impossible.

“I know they hurt you,” she added. “But helping them now doesn’t mean forgetting the past. It means choosing to be better than those who wronged you.”

His resistance crumbled further as he remembered how Garrick’s face had lit up when he’d stayed for that drink. How terrified the other male had looked at Blizter’s demand.

She took his hand, squeezing gently.

“You’re stronger than their prejudice, Rudi. Show them that.”

He shrugged uncomfortably.

“What could I do anyway?”

“Miran thinks that if we can get Niklaus back to North Haven, he will be able to rally everyone against Eldrik. That if we’re united, we stand a chance against him.”

“Niklaus?” he repeated slowly.

‘Yes. She says he’s in Silverglade.”

“That’s on the other side of the mountains,” he protested. “And what makes her think he’d listen to the village freak, let alone come with me? I was just his burden to bear.”

The moment the words left his mouth, memories came flooding back. Niklaus standing at his door after his mother’s death, arms laden with food and supplies. The older male showing up at his workshop time and again, praising his crystal work when others sneered. Even offering to teach him the ancient ways of their people—knowledge usually passed down through family lines.

His stomach twisted. He’d slammed the door in Niklaus’s face more times than he could count. Interpreted every gesture as pity, every kind word as condescension. His cheeks burned at the memory of his own stubborn pride.

Niklaus had never mocked his glowing antlers like the others. Never allowed Blitzer and his cronies to torment him when he was around. Instead, he’d tried to explain that the glow was special, meaningful—though he’d refused to listen.

He’d been so determined to prove he needed no one, convinced that independence meant refusing all help. But Niklaus had kept trying, year after year.

His antlers pulsed as shame washed through him. He’d pushed away perhaps the only person besides Miran and Clarice who had seen him as more than just the strange, glowing outsider.

She squeezed his hand again, and the warmth of her touch sent a spark through him. His mating lines tingled beneath his shirt, and he fought the urge to pull away.

“Maybe Niklaus didn’t see you as a burden,” she said softly. “Maybe he really believed in you.”

The words hit him like a physical blow. His antlers pulsed brighter, betraying the turmoil of emotions churning inside him. His throat felt thick. What if he’d been wrong all these years? What if his determination to prove himself had blinded him to genuine care and acceptance?

He paced across the room and this time she let him go, watching as he picked up a crystal. The crystal hummed with stored energy. Like the power he’d locked away inside himself, refusing to let anyone close enough to see who he really was.

He looked back at her and saw the quiet confidence in her eyes. She believed in him too, just as Niklaus had. The realization loosened something in his chest that had been tight for as long as he could remember.

Drawing in a deep breath, he exhaled slowly. “Fine. I’ll go.”

His chest ached when she gave him a radiant smile.

“Good! Then I’m coming with you.”

The thought of her facing the brutal winter storms made his antlers pulse with anxiety.

“It’s too dangerous. The mountain passes?—”

“I’ll be safe with you.”

She came over to him and took his hand, her faith in him clear in her eyes, and his protest died in his throat. The warmth of her fingers seeped into him, and his mating lines tingled in response. She trusted him completely, this small human who’d somehow slipped past all his defenses.

“I won’t fail you,” he said gruffly, then added quietly, “Or the village.”

“I know you won’t.”