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“Please, Queen Melantha has nearly succumbed to the cold.” Rharreth let the ski poles clatter to the floor as he yanked off his mittens, then began to fumble with the buckles that kept Melantha tied to him.

“I’ll see to her, Your Majesty. Never fret.” Lerrasah hurried forward, and, once Rharreth undid the last buckle, she took Melantha from Rharreth’s arms. The warrior woman carried Melantha easily, cradling her as she would a child.

As Lerrasah turned and strode toward the passageway across from him, Rharreth took a step, a part of him wanting to protest at the thought of Melantha being taken out of his sight, helpless and alone.

But he trusted Lerrasah. She would not let any harm come to Melantha.

“If it pleases you, Your Majesty, I have a fire going in my study. You can warm yourself while you apprise me of how I can best serve you.” As he spoke, Ezrec helped divest Rharreth of the packs, the skis, the snowshoes, and his parka.

Rharreth rolled his shoulders, trying to relieve the cramping ache that had set in. “Thank you. Please lead the way to your study. It has been years since I had occasion to visit Gozat.”

Ezrec strolled up the stairs once again and entered the first door on the right. Inside, Rharreth strode straight for the fire burning in the hearth formed into the stone wall. He pulled one of the padded chairs even closer and leaned forward, extending his hands toward the fire.

Warmth. Even with his magic making him more impervious to cold than Melantha was, he had still suffered the effects of the extreme, frigid temperatures.

Ezrec sank into the chair across from him. He did not speak, even though he must be impatient for details on the coup that had occurred.

Rharreth kept his gaze on the fire as he began to talk, explaining about the night of the coup and his escape thanks to Melantha’s healing magic. He then spoke of their plan and the reason he and Melantha had been fleeing by themselves through the blizzard.

Sometime during the telling, a servant brought mugs of hot cider and plates of roast caribou, which Rharreth ate gratefully. He had gone far too long without a decent meal.

The lines around Ezrec’s mouth deepened as he listened, especially when Rharreth got to the part about Zavni’s attempt to lead Drurvas in the wrong direction. But he did not interrupt.

When Rharreth was finished both eating and talking, Ezrec leaned back in his chair, nodding. “I think it is safe to assume, due to the blizzard, that you have lost any pursuers. Drurvas will not be able to move his army through this storm. Even the train will be stuck until it clears. Take the time you and your queen need to rest, Your Majesty. When you are ready, my warriors and I will provide an escort to Argar Point.”

Rharreth nodded. “Your loyalty and honor are appreciated, and I would welcome the provision of your warriors for the rest of the journey.”

Ezrec gave as low a bow as he could manage while sitting down. “I know it must seem like most of your kingdom has turned against you. But there are many of us who still are loyal and, yes, even support your choice of peace with Tarenhiel and taking an elven princess as a bride. You and your queen will change Kostaria for the better, and I intend to do everything in my power to make sure you, my king, are given that chance.”

Rharreth felt Ezrec’s trust and loyalty settle across his shoulders like a heavy, armored vest, its weight both a burden and a comfort.

There, during the coup, it had seemed like all of Kostaria had turned against him and Melantha. But that was not the case. There were still the common citizens who would sacrifice their only pair of snowshoes for him. Some warrior families still remained loyal and ready to give their all to make sure he retained his throne.

A knock came from the door, then it swung open. Lerrasah stepped inside, closing the door softly behind her.

Rharreth shot to his feet. “How is Melantha? Did she wake?”

Lerrasah shook her head. “She has been warmed, and I did not see any signs of frostbite. But she has not awakened.”

“I will go to her.” Rharreth nodded to Ezrec before he followed Lerrasah from the room.

She led him down the passageway for only a short distance before she pushed open a door. “Here is your room, Your Majesty. Please let us know if there is anything you require, and I will personally see to it that it is sent to you immediately.”

Rharreth gave her a nod of thanks as well, but he did not linger. He stepped inside and closed the door behind him.

The room was smaller than their bedchamber in Khagniorth, but it was no less cozy. The domed rock ceiling was perfectly smooth obsidian that sparkled in the light of the gas lamps set on either side of the bed and the fire roaring in the hearth.

Melantha’s pale face peeked above the layers of wool blankets and furs that were piled on the bed, her black hair streaming across the pillow. One of her hands gripped the blankets, and, when Rharreth leaned close, her fingers were pale without any signs that she had suffered frostbite.

Yet why did she not wake? He skimmed the backs of his fingers across her cheek, feeling the soothing warmth of her magic still glowing strong inside her. Hopefully that meant she’d had the sense to set her magic to healing herself before she had succumbed to sleep. If that was the case, then this sleep would be restful, not the deadly sleep of the cold from which she would not wake.

It concerned him, how much he had grown used to the comfort and security provided by her magic. Unless either of them was shot directly in the heart or had their heads taken from their shoulders, she could heal them. It had made him feel as if the two of them together were invincible.

But who would heal her if she couldn’t? If this was the deadly sleep brought on by the cold, then she would never survive the rest of the journey to Tarenhiel to find another healer. Nor would she last long enough for him to fetch a healer back for her.

Surely she would wake. The lack of frostbite was a good sign that her magic had been working inside her even after she had fallen asleep in his arms.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Rharreth pulled off his boots and stockings, both of which reeked after three days without a fresh pair of stockings. With the fire heating the room to a temperature that already had him sweating, Rharreth yanked off his shirt as well before he slid under the covers next to Melantha.