17. Paris

It turned out that overpacking wasn't the worst thing a man could do. I had more coats—and more reasonable coats—than the Nemedans, but it wasn't just that. I had scarves and snowshoes and gloves and all kinds of gear that they simply didn't.

"What's all this?" Brett asked as he came upstairs and saw me digging stuff out of my trunks and piling it on the floor. The sleigh must've been ready to go, or nearly.

After lunch, he'd gone out with Owen to finish the very last of it and attach the horses. Owen and his son Brandon would ride with us, and I was excited to try the sleigh out.

Hector had always been good at solving problems. Once, he'd dismantled and reassembled every lock in our apartments after one broke and he didn't trust the rest.

That wasn't really my thing, but... well, I was sure this would work, and if we managed to get the widow Laurence back in one piece, the Nemedans would be pleased.

Brett would be pleased. For some reason, I liked the idea of that—of him smiling and putting his arm around my shoulders and telling me that I'd done well. I wasn't sure when I'd started wanting to impress him, but I did. He wasn't what I'd thought, and certainly didn't seem to be what that man with the knife had said.

What he was, was handsome and attentive, kind and caring, and while I'd done my best to smother that spark of warmth I felt at the thought of him, the long weeks without a single letter from Tybalt made it more difficult.

I stood up, hands on my hips, feeling proud of all I had, instead of purely self-indulgent, for the first time since I'd had to lift the damned trunks and face my excesses.

"Some of it'll help us get through the snow. Some of it will keep us warm. You're welcome to try out your own coats if you want, but I think you'll be happier in these, and I have enough for all of us." Admittedly, that was because I enjoyed being able to dress in different colors, even while wrapping up against the chill, but they didn't know that. "Layering is important when you're going out into the cold. I—" I scanned him over, from the top of his head to his boots. He was larger than me, his shoulders broader, but our coats were made to be large enough to wear thick sweaters and jackets beneath them. "I think you'll fit fine."

Brett picked up one of the coats, weighing it in his hands. "Us? Are you sure you want to come?"

Hah! As if I'd let any of these shivering southerners out into a storm without me. "Do any of you actually know how to travel in the snow?"

"You do?"

I laughed. "I'm going to let that one pass and assume you just mean I'm so elegant and beautiful that it's impossible to imagine me taking part in hard labor—an illusion I would very much like you to hold onto when we're back, because I am elegant and beautiful and oh so delicate, and I won't be digging postholes for your next fence. However, yes. I know how to travel through a winter storm."

"Why would you ever ... ?" Brett trailed off with a shudder.

I shrugged. "Winters in Urial last a long time. We can't simply sit indoors for months, and the company of the same people, day in and day out, gets... draining. It's good for the heart to go outside, even if the weather's bad. Hiking's a common pastime in the Urial mountains. If you haven't reached a mountain peak by your fourteenth birthday, you've missed a right of passage."

"I've never been afraid of your people before, but I think I am now. This is a leisure activity?" He was looking at me with narrowed, wary eyes, and all I could do was grin back at him.

"It is. If you have a lake that freezes over sufficiently, and a handy blacksmith to make me some blades, I'll show you something really scary."

"Skies above, what do you do on the ice with knives?"

I laughed, gathering my pile of things up from the floor and shoving most of it into Brett's waiting arms. "It'll be a surprise."

Brett's pallor warned that he might faint any moment. I squeezed his arm. "First, we're going to rescue the widow Laurence. Then, we're going to put you in front of a fire until you believe in the concept of warmth again. Then, we'll see about dancing ice knives."

"Dancing ice knives?" he croaked.

"Well, we call it skating. I just wanted to see if you'd actually pass out."

I picked up the rest of my things, and we went down to meet Owen and Brandon.

Owen was looking serious and determined, as if he were about to go to war, and Brandon was swinging side to side on the back of the sleigh like he was excited. A man after my own heart, Brandon.

"What do we do if we get stuck out there?" Owen asked, scowling.

I waved my snowshoes in the air. "We walk. These'll keep us from sinking into the snow, but it'd be really great if we could avoid having to use them. It's slow going, but doable—well, doable for us. I wouldn't put an elderly woman in them and send her out. But the sleigh's going to work."

We weren't leaving her out there. I was absolutely not willing to be responsible for a Nemedan's death.

Or anybody's, honestly. We weren't just going to abandon her.

"We won't know until we try. Let's go," Brandon pressed, grinning.

We handed out the supplies, and the Nemedans... gods, I hadn't realized how ill-prepared they were for winter. It must never get this bad.

"Like this," I said, reaching out to adjust Brett's scarf from hanging loose around his neck. I looped it around his head again, covering more than half his face. "The winds will be bitter. You want to cover as much as you can."

Once he had a hat on, all I could see were his emerald eyes, gleaming with a mix of anxiety and hope.

Still, I took time to look each of them over for any holes where heat might escape.

"You look good," I said, grinning. Really, they all looked fluffy and silly, but more importantly, prepared. "Let's go."