Wynter noted the change in his queen’s attire, as he noticed everything about her. Day by day, bit by bit, she shed her jewel-toned Summerlander clothes for Wintercraig fashions in shades of icy blue, cream, pale taupe, and white.

At first, he approved of the change. Her bright Summerlander colors made it easy to spot her in a crowd, and his eye was instantly drawn to her whenever she entered a room. Since he’d spent the last month trying to avoid being drawn to her, he thought her altered wardrobe would be a good thing.

It didn’t quite work out that way. The paler colors set off her dark skin and black hair, amplifying the contrast to an even greater effect, the way diamonds enhanced the beauty of colored gems. Instead of helping her blend in, her new clothes only called attention to how different she was from the rest of his people, how exotically beautiful.

Valik had become so convinced Wynter was befuddled by some sort of Summerlander potion or spell that he’d ordered all of Wynter’s food and drink tasted before it touched the king’s lips, and he insisted Lady Frey perform dissolution rituals meant to unravel any spell placed upon him. Laci called Valik a fool to his face, but she performed the ritual to keep the peace.

“Idiots and frost brains,” she muttered as she stalked out after finishing. “That’s what men are. I’ve no idea why Freika ever bothered creating you. She should have recognized perfection when she created woman and stopped while she was ahead.”

Unlike Laci, Wynter wasn’t altogether certain Valik was wrong. Everything about his Summerlander queen intoxicated him. He thought about her day and night. He knew the instant she entered any room he was in, and though dozens of courtiers and the entire distance of a vast palace room might separate them, he was acutely and unalterably aware of her every step, every breath, every infinitesimal movement. Not even with Elka had he been so utterly consumed, so helplessly drawn to her. He was the moth, and Khamsin his flame.

And for that reason, though it cost him every ounce of his not-inconsiderable will, he kept his distance.

The six-week anniversary of her poisoning came and went. Laci informed Wynter that he could resume marital relations. But he was wound so tight, he didn’t dare. If his wife missed his company, she gave no sign of it. Indeed, she seemed far more intent on traveling the countryside. Scarce an hour went by when he did not hear tell of her latest adventure with that orphan lad of hers. Wynter, consequently, grew surlier and more snappish with each passing day.

“Enough!” Valik exclaimed when Wynter nearly froze him to death during an argument over the kingdom’s planned defenses. “This is ridiculous! You’re acting like an ice bear with a sore paw. What is wrong with you?”

Wynter scowled. “We’re preparing for an invasion we don’t have the numbers to repel, our forces are stretched between two kingdoms, and I’m losing my battle with the Ice Heart. What do you think is wrong with me?”

“He hasn’t returned to his wife’s bed even though I cleared her for relations over two weeks ago,” Laci told Valik in a flat voice. “That is what’s wrong with him. What?” She arched a brow at Wynter’s fierce scowl. “Servants talk. I listen.”

“That’s what this is about?” Valik spun around. “Then bed her, for Wyrn’s sake. That’s what you wed her for, anyways.”

Wynter’s eyebrows climbed towards his hairline. “Aren’t you the one who’s been going on for months now about how she’s put me under some sort of spell?”

“I’m sure she has! But that doesn’t change the fact that you need an heir. Besides, if not pumping the little witch is going to make you this unbearable, then throw her feet in the air and keep them there until your child is born!”

“Or find some other willing woman,” Laci murmured, giving Wynter a sideways glance. “I’m sure there’s no lack of prospects in your court.”

He scowled. “I gave her my word I would not.”

“Then do us all a favor and go to your wife,” she said.

“You told me to stay away!”

“That was two months ago. I told you stay out of her bed for six weeks.” Her mouth drew down in a disgusted grimace. “Truth be told, she was probably healthy enough within a week of the poisoning, but stupid me, I thought you might use the time to get to know your wife, not avoid her like the plague.”

“You lied to me?”

Galacia sniffed. “I gave you the same advice I would have given any man in that situation. It’s not my fault your wife heals exponentially faster than most. But that’s immaterial. The point is, you knew you could resume marital activities weeks ago yet you’ve done nothing about it. And in case it has escaped your notice, the pains you’ve taken to avoid her have been observed and emulated by your entire court. If you meant to make her life here as miserable as possible, you couldn’t have chosen a better method.”

Heat stung Wynter’s cheeks. “That was not my intent.” He wasn’t unaware of his court’s coolness towards Khamsin, but he’d done nothing to curtail it. And all right . . . perhaps some small, petty part of him had wanted to punish her for running about the countryside laughing and enjoying herself while he wanted her so badly, he’d spent the last two months in torment.

“Intent or not, that is the result.” Galacia crossed her arms and fixed her cold, glass-sharp gaze upon him. “What are you going to do about it?”