The Winter King Page 111


“Three sighted, my lord. We only managed to bring one of them down.” Fjall handed Wynter a tiny, curled slip of paper. “We didn’t catch the person the birds were intended for. Each time, the falcon flew to a different part of the palace.”

Wyn uncurled the message and read the tiny script intended for someone in Gildenheim. His fist closed around the paper, crumpling it, and thrust the wadded slip of paper in his vest pocket. “Thank you, Fjall. Lord Valik and I will take it from here.”

“Of course, Your Grace.” The Steward of the Keep bowed again.

Courtiers who’d heard the call announcing Wynter’s return were lined up along the steps three deep. The lines of them dipped low in a rolling wave of bows and curtsies as he passed. He scanned the crowd, automatically seeking the one face that had been in his mind since the day of his departure. The dark, silver-shot locks in a sea of blonds.

She wasn’t there.

Anger and disappointment flared with equal intensity. What now? His queen could not be bothered to welcome him home? There was something more pressing that demanded her attention? Like sending coded messages to her brother, perhaps?

“Where is the queen?”

Fjall blanched white beneath his golden skin. “You said to watch but not to interfere—and not to let her know she was being watching.”

“I know what I said,” Wyn snapped. “You don’t need to remind me of my own orders. Where is she?”

“She’s been going there every day since last week. There’s no sign that she’s done any harm, my lord, but—”

“Where is she?” Ice cracked in his voice.

The Steward swallowed. “The queen is in the Atrium, Your Grace.”

“What are you doing here?”

The guttural bark ripped through the still serenity of the Atrium.

Khamsin, who had been sitting in the icy meadow where the sculptures of Wynter and his family were picnicking, jumped to her feet. She turned in a flurry of skirts to find Wynter standing at the edge of the meadow, practically vibrating with fury.

The temperature in the room plunged. The small meal she’d brought to eat with Wynter’s family went white with frost.

“What are you doing in here?” He advanced upon her, each foot falling heavily upon the ground, all but making the earth shake with each stride. “You knew this room was forbidden. You gave me your oath you would not trespass.”

Kham found herself retreating two steps for every one long stride Wynter advanced. She hadn’t seen him in such a state since the day he’d discovered his bride was not the auburn-haired princess he’d been expecting. No—not even then. She’d never seen him this enraged.

His fingers were clenched in heavy, rock-hard fists. His eyes had gone completely white, and if she hadn’t instantly reached for the power of the sun, his Gaze would have frozen her solid where she stood.

She held out her hands in supplication, truly afraid of him for the first time in a long while. There was no hint of the passionate lover or tender husband in the ice-carved lines of his face. He was all ice, cold and harsh and implacable. “Wynter—I—”

“You what? Thought you’d find some valuable military secrets here that you could send to your brother?”

“No!” Her voice cracked. He suspected she was spying for her brother? She ignored the slight twinge of guilt that reminded her she had come here looking for secrets she could use to ensure her survival. “Of course not! I haven’t spoken to my brother in years! I don’t even know where he is.”

“Then what are you doing here? Is this how you honor your oaths? Valik was right. I’ve been too soft, allowed you too much freedom. And you’ve interpreted my indulgence as a sign of weakness.”

“Valik is an idiot!”

“We’re not talking about Valik!” His roar blasted out with such force that icy leaves in the tree above Khamsin shivered, cracked and fell from the limbs, showering down in a hail of broken ice. “Valik isn’t the one who betrayed my trust, broke my law, and invaded a room he was expressly forbidden to enter! Valik isn’t the one who broke his oath! I should have known better than to ever trust a Summerlander. You come from a long line of liars, murderers, thieves, and cheats. Why should I think you would be any different?”

Fire swept through her veins. Anger, fed by the weeks of Wynter’s abandonment and her own defensive rage at having been caught intruding, burst to life. Lightning whipped through her veins, heating her blood. Overhead, visible through the Atrium’s glass roof, the sky grew dark as clouds gathered.

“You call my family murderers? Ha! You have more blood on your hands than Summerlea’s last three kings combined! How many of our villages did you raze? How many innocent women and children froze to death or starved in the wake of your conquest? And for what? Because your bride preferred my brother’s company to yours! Frankly, after having been wed to you these last months now, I don’t blame her!”

His brows shot up, and the temperature dropped commensurately. The sky overhead went white as the gathered clouds began pouring out ice and snow. “You complain of the care I have shown you?”

“ ‘Care’?” She all but screeched the word. “To what ‘care’ exactly do you refer? You mean the way you ignore me for weeks on end? That care? Or the way you have made it clear to every member of your court that I am to be ostracized and treated as a source of pathetic amusement?”

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