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Chapter 8

ASPEN

She was there again.

In my spot. In my woods.

The book in her hands consumed her so completely it was as though the world stilled, allowing her to focus solely on the words before her. I imagined a Goddess could fall from the Divine and she wouldn’t so much as glance up.

Her hair reminded me of ripe berries just before they were plucked, shining and vibrant as they soaked up the last rays of sun. It cascaded around her shoulders in loose waves, swaying with a rhythm reminiscent of how a burgundy wine rippled in a glass when you laughed too hard to keep your glass still. Against the stark white backdrop of the snow, her presence a flare of color, she was impossible to ignore.

Blinding.

A ray of sunlight personified.

Interesting .

But would she gleam or scorch? Our previous encounter suggested either. I was quite hoping for both.

She fascinated me. I couldn’t pinpoint why, only that I had an inexplicable need to find out.

“Are you following me now?”

Her voice was unwavering, tenacity laced through each syllable. She clutched the book to her chest, arms folded over it, fire flickering in the deep brown of her eyes. Gold flecks shimmered within them, just as they had the last time we met.

“I could ask the same of you.”

“Pardon me?” She looked at me incredulously. “You have imposed upon my solitude twice now.”

“You are pardoned.” I crossed one heavy boot in front of the other, flashing a roguish grin. “And as I have been frequenting this area for as long as I can recall, I believe my point stands that you , in fact, are the one seeking out my company.”

She bit the inside of her cheek, the freckles across the bridge of her nose shifting as she chewed. “I can assure you, I had no intention of seeking anything but a moment of quiet.”

She sounded almost resigned, her gaze drifting toward Arcton Palace. My eyes followed hers. Questions rose immediately about her purpose there, but I brushed them aside. I cherished these rare moments away from those marble walls too much to surrender them, even to satisfy my own curiosity.

“I do not know many who seek respite in the freezing cold.”

She remained where she was, arms still crossed over her bodice, while I stood several paces away, locked on her gaze.

“Oh, I fucking despise the cold,” she huffed, her shoulders loosening as the book fell back into her lap. “One must practically lose a limb for fresh air here.”

A laugh escaped my chest. It had been years since someone besides my guard had spoken to me with such brazen honesty. She fought hard to suppress a smile, but it won in the end, slipping free in a short, melodic laugh.

She flipped through her book, searching for a page before settling back in.

“Well.” Her eyes flicked up, and she gestured toward me. “Do you plan to continue standing there and staring at me as I read? It’s quite unsettling. Some of us have duties to fulfill, you know.”

Oh, do I.

“Since you have unceremoniously infiltrated my favorite reading spot,” I pulled my own book from my coat pocket, holding up the silver-embossed cover for her to see, “I suppose I could deign to share it with you.”

“I am in awe of your sacrifice.” Sarcasm dripped from her tone, only deepening my amusement. The sharp edge of mistrust that had lined her features earlier seemed to dull with each word.

“I must say, I am surprised by my own altruism. You are quite fortunate.”

She gasped suddenly, her hand flying to her chest. I jolted, the snow crunching beneath my boots as I took a step forward, scanning her for the source of distress.

Her hand flew out between us as she shook her head to halt my advance.

“I apologize,” she panted heavily. If I hadn’t been watching her, I’d think she’d just sprinted across the grounds instead of remaining seated. “There was simply no air left for us commoners once your ego arrived.”

I see. Well played.

“Now, Sunbeam , all you had to do was ask. I am but a generous man.”

With a flick of my wrist, a burst of cold air curled toward her. She shivered as it passed, lifting the ends of her loose hair and leaving a trail of gooseflesh across her exposed collarbones. The breeze carried her scent back to me—cinnamon and amber, undercut by a familiar sweetness I couldn’t quite place.

“There, fresh air aplenty.”

“Again with that Goddess-damned nickname,” she muttered, yanking up her book to shield her face. “Maybe I’ve had enough fresh air for the day.”

Despite her words, she made no move to leave.

I shrugged off my outer coat and tossed it to where she sat. The linen tunic and thick navy vest beneath were more than enough to keep me warm in what were, for Kacidon standards, rather neutral temperatures. She needn’t sit in the wet snow.

I felt her eyes on me as I crouched down, leaning against a tree a few paces away. I expected her to shift the coat beneath her. Instead, she carefully smoothed it out and placed the book atop the dark grey fabric.

“I rather think the coat is large enough that the book would be willing to share space with you.” I rolled my sleeves, pulling at the ribbon marking my place and watching out of my peripheral vision as she scrutinized whether I was serious.

Too easy.

I tried to focus on my reading, seeking a brief respite from all that unfolded within the palace walls. Verbally sparring with her had been the highlight of my day. If I was being honest, of far more than that.

A missive had arrived at my door before leaving, another patient lost in the infirmary.

Fifteen now.

To add to the news, a Medikai from one of Kacidon’s outer districts resigned, claiming she’d exhausted her efforts and lingering around the ill only heightened her risk of contracting the sickness herself. Though, it didn’t appear to be contagious.

With dissent rising beyond the inner city and more staff abandoning Arcton Palace under the king’s growing paranoia, my list of duties seemed to grow by the hour.

Perhaps the two Ethera the queen had summoned from Vaelithe could help ease the healers’ burden, though I wasn’t convinced. Nothing had made a difference yet.

And then there was the woman who would be staying here. The one who had us all on edge.

“It would quickly become dirty,” the crimson-tinted tornado across from me murmured, snapping my attention back to her.

“There is a remarkable innovation. You may not yet be aware of its existence. It is called washing.”

Her exasperated sigh drifted across the cool breeze, followed by the rustling of fabric as she shifted, finally sitting atop the coat.

I reveled in the surprising smugness of knowing practicality had won out over her stubbornness.

“How clever.”

“You flatter me with your compliments.”

My thoughts drifted back to the palace. To the worsening state of the Malum.

And to the guests.

The king and queen had never been this desperate before—inviting strangers into their home, much less the daughter of Vaelithe’s Vilemancer.

The unrest in Kacidon had begun when her mother first sold her poisons here. It had only worsened in the fifteen years since the assassination attempt. The woman built an empire on death, her creations wiping out entire prominent families and their heirs.

It had been the catalyst for change. A push for a new regime.

Many of the old wealthy houses had supported the king in the old war. I wasn’t optimistic enough to think losing brought upon some magnificent change of heart.

Revolting, the lot of them.

Unfortunately, it hadn’t only been the old houses that were eradicated. No, many of the bastards had been her patrons as well. Using them to further the old ways. Families. Innocents. Children. All gone. The Stratum symbol reappearing. She’d known what they were being used for, no matter how much she denied it. I’d never understood the queen’s leniency with her fate.

A shadow crossed over the page as I finished a passage on magic resistant archival ink and uncommon parchment varieties for document preservation. I blinked up at golden-flecked brown eyes. She was so close that I wondered if I’d somehow missed her creating a portal in the silence.

“Thank you.”

Her chin was lifted, but a soft smile curved her lips. As I reached for the coat she handed back, our skin brushed. The setting sun caught the snow behind her, and for a moment, she looked as if she were made of light.

How odd.

“Bring refreshments next time.” I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees. “If you insist on imposing on my favorite reading spot.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t argue as she turned toward the forest’s edge.

I flexed my fingers, clenching and unclenching them a few times to rid the peculiar sensation from where her skin had touched mine.

As she faded from view, I pondered how she seemed to be lit from within.