Chapter 8

"You're going back there, aren't you?"

I turned from the doors of the Great Hall to see my mother emerge from the shadows. As always, she was swathed in a heavy gown and wimple, leaving only her face exposed to the world. Her sole adornment was a plain golden circlet that held the thick folds of her wimple in place. Somewhere in my mind, I had vague memories of thick brown braids wrapped around her head. But those memories must have been dreams. Or perhaps wishful thinking. Because the braids were accompanied by laughter, and my mother never laughed.

She glided forward now, her lips compressed in a thin line. "You've gone the past two nights."

"Lady Mother," I said, bowing at the waist. When I straightened, the look in her eyes let me know she understood I'd lowered myself just enough to satisfy protocol. "It's past midnight," I added. "I wasn't aware your spies worked this late."

"You jest even as you neglect your duties." Her smile was colder than the air that leaked through the arrow slits high on the walls. "As for spies, you are mistaken. I would never employ others to bear witness to your lawlessness." Her smile faded, and disgust colored her voice. "Your…habits."

The contempt in her blue eyes was as familiar as my face in the mirror. As dependable as the sun rising in the morning. Never mind that I'd fulfilled her heart's desire by putting my father on the throne. Forget that I'd spent every moment since then defending our family's claim with my blood and sweat. She tolerated my sweat because it kept a crown on her head. But she despised my blood. The priests claimed a man's seed could only take root if a woman experienced pleasure during coupling. My existence proved that was a lie.

I pulled my cloak more tightly around me. "I've never neglected my obligations, madam, as you well know." I nodded toward the wooden staircase at the opposite end of the Hall. "Perhaps you should see to your own duties and ensure my father is resting comfortably." I turned and pushed the heavy doors open.

Snow blasted my face. Freezing air stole my breath. I tucked my chin and leaned into the wind, my boots crunching across the snow that had fallen too quickly for the servants to clear. Blurry, fur-wrapped shapes moved along the top of the wall that circled the inner bailey. One of them must have spotted me, because a voice boomed over the wind.

"Open the gate for the prince!"

Ahead of me, the massive, iron-studded doors swung outward. I waved my thanks to the guards on the wall and strode through the outer bailey and into the stables. I got two steps into the building when the sight of a familiar bright head brought me up short.

Lady Mirella stood in one of the stalls, her glossy red hair swinging as she examined a colt's mouth. "I know what you're going to say," she said without turning around.

I stifled the irritation that spiked at having my departure delayed again. Mirella wasn't my mother. She didn't deserve the sharp edge of my tongue.

"Then I won't say it," I said, stomping snow from my boots. Chunks of ice plopped onto the hay scattered over the packed dirt. The scent of manure and leather, strong but not unpleasant, rushed into my lungs.

A thread of amusement entered Mirella's voice. "You don't have to, Your Highness. I can feel your disapproval."

My irritation flared anew. Mirella was more than capable of taking care of herself. She hailed from Eftar, the mountain kingdom that bordered the Autumn Court. Both male and female Eftari learned to scale cliffs before they could walk. Mirella's father was the Lord of Purecliff, which sat on the edge of a deep gorge that could only be crossed by rappelling down one side of a vertical drop and climbing the other. Mirella was far from helpless.

But she was also a noblewoman living under my protection. I couldn't leave her in the stable alone after midnight. Which meant I was stuck waiting for her to complete whatever task she'd undertaken.

"Fine," I said. "It's not safe for you to walk around the castle in the middle of the night. At least bring a groom with you next time."

Mirella turned her head enough for me to see the soft curve of her cheek and the long sweep of her dark lashes. "Surely, I'm safe enough in the keep. Your men wouldn't dare to bother me. And no one has breached this castle since your father reclaimed the crown."

As if I didn't know it. My "duties," as my mother called them, consisted of keeping my father on the throne. No one in Nordlinga knew the things I'd done to put him there. As long as I breathed, my father wouldn't share my grandfather's fate. Mirella was correct that no one had breached Castle Nordlinga since my father retook the throne. But that didn't mean they hadn't tried. Repeatedly.

"Every house has enemies, my lady," I said. "We can't let our guard down."

The colt shuddered suddenly, tossing its head. Mirella grabbed its rope bridle and rubbed a firm hand down its nose. "Now, now," she said in her low, musical voice. "We'll have none of that."

I rested my hands on my sword belt as I watched her handle the horse. The colt was a spirited two-year-old who gave the stablehands grief on a regular basis. But it calmed under her touch. As the warmer air of the stables swirled around me, some of the tension I'd carried since my encounter with my mother eased from my shoulders.

Mirella murmured to the colt as she ran her fingers over its gums and blocky teeth. Her words were unintelligible. Horse language, probably, although I'd heard her use the same tone on injured warriors twice her size. Whatever the voice was, it did the trick. The colt grew docile, its thick eyelids drooping. I couldn't blame it. With the scent of hay in my lungs and Mirella's soothing voice in my ears, my own lids grew heavy.

After another minute, she pulled her hands from the beast's mouth and stroked its nose. "Good boy."

"You should try that on Sir Gemmert," I said, referring to one of my knights.

Mirella faced me at last, wiping her hands on an apron she'd tied over her black gown. The stark color turned her hair the color of fire. "I heard he has a toothache."

I looked at her leather satchel dangling from a hook on the side of the stall. "I've seen him cleave a man's head from his shoulders with a single blow. But I think he'd rather die than let you stick any of your instruments in his mouth."

She shook her head as she untied her apron. "If he refuses my help, he just might." She folded the apron into a tidy square, then went to the satchel and began rummaging inside it. "A rotting tooth can kill quickly if the body's humors grow unbalanced. Once toxins enter the blood, the heart can swell. If fever sets in, not even the best surgeon can stop the inevitable."

The words sounded like more horse language to me, but I didn't doubt her knowledge. "I'll tell him to come find you." Mirella was an accomplished healer. If her family had their way, she'd also be my wife. They'd sent her to Castle Nordlinga to look after my father, but anyone with eyes knew that was just an excuse to put her in my path.

Because Mirella was beautiful. And intelligent. The castle folk adored her. She was everything a man wanted in a wife. She'd made it clear she was willing to step into that role whenever I said the word.

But every time I came close, something stopped me. At first, I told myself I needed to get to know her better. Why rush into something so important? Yes, noble marriages were negotiated for political advantage instead of love, but my parents' union had turned me off marrying purely for position.

So I waited—and I kept Mirella waiting. Months had stretched into a year…then two. I waited even after it became clear that Mirella would never revile me the way my mother despised my father. Our marriage bed wouldn't be cold. Still, I didn't pursue her. Over time, more reasons emerged to stay my hand.

I was intimidated by her intelligence. Her competence. Mirella's chamber overflowed with books. When traveling bards visited the castle, she hung on their every word while I tried not to weep from boredom. When it came to swinging a sword, few could best me. But the bards wielded words like weapons, feinting and parrying in ways I never could. Deep down, I knew I could never give Mirella the things she truly needed. My mother had the crown she'd always wanted, yet she was still unhappy.

And my mother hated my father for his elfkin blood. She was generous with her hate, dispensing it to me in equal measure. If Mirella uncovered my secret heritage, would she feel the same?

These were all good reasons to keep her at arm's length. But there was another—one buried as deep as the elven blood that lurked in my veins.

I could never give Mirella a child.

"Are you all right?"

Mirella's voice pulled me from my hay-scented reflections. She stood before me with her satchel slung across her body and a penetrating look in her eyes. They were an unusual color—bright gold like a new coin. Behind her, the colt pulled hay from a feeder on the wall.

"Yeah." I rubbed a hand over my face as I attempted to shake the lassitude from my limbs. "Sorry."

A soft smile touched her mouth. "You're like one of the horses, sleeping on your feet."

"I'll be fine."

She looked from my heavy cloak to the stable doors over my shoulder. "Do you really need to ride out at this time of night?"

"Someone needs to patrol."

"You can't have your men do it?"

I smoothed my beard. "I don't ask them to do anything I'm not willing to do myself."

"That's true," she said softly. "They sing your praises when they come to me for treatment. Your people love you."

I grunted, disagreements crowding my throat. My men were loyal. I'd fought beside most of them for years. They had helped me win my father's crown. Outside the walls of Castle Nordlinga, however, I was never certain what kind of reception I'd get. Northerners had long memories, and not everyone believed my grandfather had been right to overthrow Tola.

Mirella's golden gaze followed the path of my hand, lingering on my beard.

I lowered my arm. "I'll take you to your chamber."

"No need," she said, suddenly brisk. "I can see my way back just fine, Your Highness." She slipped past me. "I don't want to keep you from your patrol."

"You're not," I said, turning. A blast of icy air hit me in the face as she pushed the doors open. "Mirella!" I leapt after her. But she was fast, and by the time I rushed into the outer bailey, she was already gone. Sometimes, I swore she disappeared into thin air.

Guilt gripped me. I needed to send her home. She deserved better than uncertainties and half-truths. And that was all I could offer her. Even if we married, I'd never be able to share my life with her. Not completely.

With a heavy sigh, I returned to the stable and saddled my horse. Minutes later, I was through the castle gate and speeding toward the ancient forest that circled Castle Nordlinga. As I had for the past two nights, I summoned the traces of magic in my veins, pulling the power into a ball in my mind. Sometimes, it glowed so brightly, I could see it when I closed my eyes. But I kept them open now as I sped over snowbanks and fallen trees. When the power thrummed in my head, I clenched my jaw and pushed.

Magic surged at my back, throwing me forward over my horse's neck. Tugging on the reins, I slowed my horse and twisted around in the saddle. Before, snowflakes had swirled in the frosty air. Now, a blizzard raged behind me, the snow drawn across the trees like a white curtain.

Satisfaction spread in my mind. No one would follow me this night.

But as I turned back around and nudged the horse forward again, I hoped someone would meet me. For two nights, I'd waited at the Covenant, hoping Lady Cyra would appear. And for two nights, I'd returned home disappointed.

Doubt wriggled into my mind. Maybe she meant what she said, and she could never return. But she'd said it was difficult for her to slip away. It could be days before I'm free again.

I forced the doubt from my head as I urged the horse into a faster gallop. I hadn't misread the interest in Cyra's eyes. She was curious about me. If there was any chance of her showing up, I was determined to meet her.

The wind howled in my ears as I charged deeper into the forest. Cold bit at my skin, but I barely felt it. Trees whipped past, and the blizzard faded to a dull roar as I sped away from it. The moon wasn't as bright tonight, but my horse knew the route to the barrier. Moments later, its soft blue light filtered through the trees.

I hobbled my horse at the tree line and walked toward the Covenant, my gaze sweeping the elven forest on the other side. Snowflakes drifted down in lazy, wayward paths. The barrier's twinkling light bathed my face and stained the snow around me.

And Lady Cyra was nowhere in sight.

Disappointment was a weight in my gut. I stared blindly at the forest as the cold finally penetrated my clothes. Once again, she wasn't going to show. I was a bit later tonight than I would have liked. Maybe I'd missed her. She could have come and gone, and I?—

Movement drew my gaze. On the other side of the Covenant, a dark shape emerged from the elven forest. Cyra paused at the edge of the trees, her slender form swaddled in a heavy cloak.

We locked gazes.

You see me.

My heart sped up. I stepped toward the Covenant, the toes of my boots nearly grazing the boundary. Just as I lifted a hand to beckon her forward, she looked over her shoulder.

I looked with her, scanning the trees. Had she heard something? I gripped my sword hilt, braced for men to thunder from the forest and haul her away from the barrier.

But nothing happened, and she faced me once more and strode forward, her steps measured and sure. Moonlight slanted over her, illuminating the perfect oval of her face inside her hood. Green eyes held mine, and they shimmered with an emotion I hadn't seen from her before.

Defiance.

My heart beat faster. Halfway to the Covenant, she picked up her skirts and ran. But she wasn't afraid. Nothing pursued her.

No, she just wanted to reach me.

Her hood fell back, exposing her silver-white hair.

And something clicked in my mind. Puzzle pieces fell into place, forming the answer to a question before I could ask it.

Then again, maybe the answer had been there all along. It had captured my attention the first time I glimpsed her across the Covenant. For the past two days, it had driven me to see her again. To find her. To find out why she'd approached the barrier in the first place.

And maybe I didn't want that answer. If I didn't have it, I didn't need to do anything with it.

She ran faster, giving me flashes of snowy white underskirts and slender, stocking-clad legs. When she raced through the barrier, I caught her hand.

"You came," I said.

Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes were bright as she stared up at me. "Yes."

"No boars this time."

She smiled. "No boars."

Taking a risk, I lifted her hand and brushed my lips over her knuckles. "I'm relieved to hear it, Princess."

Her smile fled. When she tugged her hand from my grip, I let her go at once. "You…" For a brief moment, I could see her deciding between truth and denial. Finally, she squared her shoulders, a mix of hurt and anger in her eyes. "Did you know from the beginning?"

"I'm not sure," I said honestly. "I think part of me must have guessed. And when I saw you just now, I knew."

Her brows drew together. "How?"

I opened my mouth, then shut it. "It's hard to put into words."

"Try."

Laughter burst from me before I could stop it. "That." When her frown deepened, I let my mirth settle into a grin. "Kings carry themselves a certain way. You were born to your role. I'm not sure you could hide it even if you wanted to."

She appeared to absorb this. "You were also born to your role, Prince Sigurn. Do you carry yourself a certain way?"

"I don't come from a long line of kings. And I spent years as a prince in exile. But you're right. I've always had prince attached to my name. I've never known anything else."

The anger in her eyes faded. "I guess things aren't really fair between us anymore, are they? You know two of my secrets, but I only know one of yours."

Desire flared hot and bright. As I had during our first meeting, I placed my hand over my heart, which suddenly pumped harder. "I give you my vow that all your secrets are safe with me, Princess Liria."

She studied me for a beat. Then she seemed to relax, a soft smile touching her mouth. "Thank you."

I lowered my hand, and we stayed that way for a moment, tentative trust blooming between us. Without warning, the wind picked up, sending icy air down the back of my neck.

"Would you come to the cabin with me?" I asked. "It's not far." When doubts huddled around her, I couldn't help but plead my case. "Among my people, the laws of hospitality are sacred. No one—guest or host—starts a war over the table. Dishonor would follow."

She tilted her head, and some of her silvery hair slid over her shoulder, the silky-looking strands caressing one full breast. "If I say no, do you intend to make war with me, Prince Sigurn?"

Lust wrapped a phantom hand around my dick. Gods, I could see myself doing idiotic things for this woman. "No, I don't, Princess. War is the very last thing I want to make with you."

Awareness shimmered in her eyes, and the attraction between us hung heavy in the air. Then she lowered her head, her frown reappearing. "I… Maybe I shouldn't."

"I understand. Another time, perhaps." I cleared my throat. "I've been too forward. I only wanted to offer a warm fire and a cup of tea." Too late, I realized a fire was likely the last thing a Winter elf desired. But I clamped my mouth shut before I could speak again and make things worse.

Indecision flickered in her eyes. She looked from me to the forest at my back. When she met my gaze again, her voice was steady. "No, I'll come. But I can't stay long."