Page 62

Chapter 59

IRIS

I watched the snow drift lazily onto the skylight as the sun rose the next morning.

It was the first rest day we’d taken in a while, now that we finally had a stable version of the Blight Lotus tonic. Several patients’ families asked to learn more about it, wary of trying something that could potentially worsen their loved ones’ conditions.

Aspen then endured my relentless recitations of the presentation before I addressed the patients—listened to them to a sickening degree, even. None had agreed to the treatment yet, but High Healer Nora remained confident they would come around soon.

It didn’t matter if we’d found a cure if no one was willing to take it.

I shifted, biting back a laugh as the arms around my middle tightened. A low grumble followed, something that sounded suspiciously like no , as Aspen nuzzled his chin into the crook of my neck.

It was rare for me to wake before him, and I savored the moment, burrowing my back further into his warmth.

A hand shot out, gripping my waist to still my movement as one of his legs hooked around mine.

“It would be prudent to watch where you squirm, Virlana.”

I bit my lip, heat blooming in my abdomen as I became distinctly aware of exactly what I had pressed against.

Carefully, I twisted onto my other shoulder to face him, resting my chin on his bare chest and peering up through my lashes.

“Good morning, Sunbeam,” he murmured without opening his eyes, voice hoarse with sleep.

Aspen was, objectively, beautiful. Crafted from a marble statue in the halls of The Bronze Palace beautiful.

Truly, it was somewhat obscene.

He was well aware of it too, the damn peacock. Aspen Gavalon walked with the air of someone who knew exactly the effect he had on a room.

The sharp tailoring of his formal wear accentuated his angular jawline, his casual clothes left me flustered far too often, and his loose training tunics provided an unobstructed view of his expanse of muscle—wonders, all. But here, in the mornings, with his white hair mussed, his voice still rough with sleep, and his face free of worry lines—this was my favorite version of Aspen.

He brushed his lips across my forehead, fingers tracing idle circles along my back.

“Tell your brain to be quiet,” he muttered, eyes still closed. “It’s too early for all that thinking.”

I hummed in contentment. “I think you’d quite like what it’s going on about, Prince .”

One eye cracked open slightly, peering at me beneath a raised brow. “Is that so?”

I rested my cheek against his bare skin, listening to the slow rhythm of his heartbeat.

“I apologize,” I murmured, my voice slipping toward sleep. “The Frost Prince commanded my brain to quiet itself.”

“Oh no, you don’t,” he chided, arms tightening as he flipped onto his back, hauling me on top of him. “We have to be at the palace early today.”

“It’s a rest day,” I groaned, melting further into his chest.

“Would you like to be the one to tell my mother why we’re late to her annual Felfrost palace decorating?”

I shot up, blankets flying in a cloud to the floor.

For one, I had no intention of informing the queen that I’d spent the morning tangled in bed with her son. Secondly, while Kacidon’s reverence for Felfrost was legendary across Altaerra, it paled in comparison to how seriously its queen took the preparations. There was no way I was willingly facing the certain wrath that would follow if we derailed her plans.

We had almost two months before the winter holiday, yet the festivities—and decorating—began today.

Aspen’s mother had been nothing but cordial recently. One might even argue she’d been kind in our interactions since our return from the Tundra.

I was not risking tarnishing that.

I propped my chin in my hands, narrowing my eyes at the smug grin tugging at his lips. He was still staring at the ceiling, though he seemed to be thoroughly enjoying my rising panic.

“What does she know?” I asked, reaching out to pull his chin down.

“She knows I care for you. And that you’ve been staying here.”

He snatched my finger, pressing a kiss to it before lacing our hands together above his head.

His words shouldn’t have surprised me. Aspen had shown me time and again how he felt. But hearing it aloud sent a deep hum of delight through my chest.

“Shit,” I grumbled, dropping my head against his chest. “I forgot to write to Zinnia to remind her I wouldn’t be home for the holiday. I’ll need to draft something before we leave so I can drop it off.”

“I know you wish you could be there,” he said tentatively.

I shimmied up his body until we were face to face.

“I want to be here. With you,” I whispered against his lips before closing the distance.

It was true. To be here, in Aspen’s home, during such a sacred time of year to all of Altaerra—but especially to this realm—felt like nothing less than a dream.

I indulged in the kiss for a few moments, allowing myself to get lost in him before pulling away.

“Now we need to get up,” I sighed. “Lest we face the wrath of your mother’s holiday spirit.”

He chuckled, squeezing tightly and placing another kiss on my hair before tearing us both from the sheets.

We tore through our morning routines in record time. I scrawled a quick letter and stuffed it into my bag as I gulped down my tea. Mochi hopped into my arms just as I slung the bag over my shoulder and met Aspen at the door. He outstretched his arm as we stepped past the simple barriers I had agreed to set up, and I held my breath as he used the Gavalon ring to transport us to the palace steps.

My stomach twisted, and I swallowed the unwelcome bite at the back of my throat.

I doubted that would ever become a pleasant experience, but the sheer volume of trips we'd taken since I’d begun staying at the cabin had at least dulled the queasiness.

I dropped Aspen’s arm, letting Mochi leap from my grasp and pounce into a fresh bank of snow. I didn’t wait for Aspen as I hurried up the stone steps, calling out into the crisp air, “I’ll meet you in the foyer—I need to drop this with the carrier.”

“But I can—” Aspen started, his shoes clicking on the marble floor.

“Don't you dare, Prince,” I tsked over my shoulder, jogging down the hallway. “You better make yourself seen and pray it hides our unseemly tardiness.”

I heard his dramatic exhale as I rounded a corner and laughed, knowing my mental picture of him pinching the bridge of his nose in the entryway was likely spot-on.

Brushing snow from my hair, I tightened my grip on the envelope as my boots echoed against the empty halls.

Garlands of evergreen lined most of the corridors, round wreaths with deep crimson bows perched atop every sconce. The mantles of the abundant fireplaces were even more lavishly adorned, silver and gold tinsel wrapped around the fixtures, delicate glass ornaments dangling from the hearths. Crimson runners stretched the length of the marble floors, and everything in the castle shimmered under the glow of candlelight and enchantment.

I was marveling at the sheer number of pine trees that had been brought into the palace when the sight of two people through an open drawing-room door stopped me cold.

“I haven’t seen him like this in almost?—”

I stood, open-mouthed, staring at Gideon. Seated, tea in hand, across from the Queen of Kacidon.

“Gideon?” I finally stammered, still frozen in the doorway, my mind struggling to process his sudden, unannounced presence in Kacidon.

He turned his head toward me, his soft smile barely concealing the mischievous glint in his eyes, as if he’d expected me to appear at that exact moment. He raised his teacup, took a slow, deliberate sip, then placed it back onto the table.

“Wildling!” He stood, his grin widening enough for his dimples to emerge.

I straightened, shaking the surprise from my posture as I strode into the quaint room. I quickened my pace as I drew nearer, throwing my arms tightly around him, breathing in his familiar herbal scent.

“I’ve missed you,” I murmured against the fabric of his tunic. “Both of you.”

He pulled away just enough to press a gentle kiss to my cheek before settling back into his seat. “We’ve missed you too.”

“Am I right to assume,” Genevieve interjected from her seat, “that since you are here, Iris, my son must be somewhere in this palace as well?”

A blush crept to my cheeks. “Yes, he’s in the foyer.”

“Busy morning?” she asked, one delicate brow arching over the rim of her teacup.

I swallowed a choke, grateful I wasn’t also drinking tea. Clearing my throat, I willed the heat from my face.

“Pardon?”

“Oh, well, he’s usually here before sunrise when it comes to anything involving Felfrost,” she mused, setting her cup down. “I’ve never known him to be late for a celebration.”

“That’s—” I started quickly, words tripping over themselves. “That would be my fault, really?—”

She threw her head back with a bright, joyful laugh, the sound ringing against the high walls. “I rather think my son deserves a break from being so uptight, Iris,” she said delightedly, resting a gentle hand on my forearm. “You’ve helped with that immensely.”

I blinked twice, letting her words settle over me before exhaling a breath. “He is rather high-strung,” I admitted with a small smile.

“Much like his father,” Genevieve chuckled. I thanked the Goddesses Aspen hadn’t been around to hear the comparison.

When I turned back to Gideon, his gaze flicked toward the envelope still clutched in my hand.

“Oh.” I startled, remembering my errand. “I meant to send this off, but—” I placed the letter onto the glass table in front of her. “I wanted to send another update.”

Genevieve chuckled softly. “It seems we had the same thought this morning. I was extending an invitation to Gideon for our annual ball. We are pleased to have you as a guest this year as well, should you wish to attend. It isn’t a requirement, of course, but since you’ll be staying here, I thought you might enjoy the festivities.”

My eyes widened. “I appreciate the welcome, Your Majesty.” I glanced between her and Gideon, the ache of missing home stronger in his presence. “I would love to attend.”

“Genevieve, dear,” she corrected warmly. Her eyes held the same unguarded warmth I sometimes glimpsed in Aspen when we weren’t performing for others. He was nearly a mirror of his father in every way—except for his hair. But his eyes, his expressions… those belonged to his mother.

“And you are always welcome here, Iris,” Genevieve continued, politely ignoring my staring. “You’ve given immense time and resources to our people.” She sipped her tea again, exchanging a look with Gideon I didn’t miss. “I find our residents,” she paused, and something suspiciously like a snort escaped him, “are quite enamored with your presence.” A smirk tugged at her lips.

“I do enjoy getting to know your realm, Genevieve. Thank you.”

The two exchanged another look, and suddenly I felt as if I had overstayed my welcome. I leaned down, embracing Gideon once more before bidding them farewell.

“I ought to start with the decorations. It was wonderful to see you, Your Majesty,” I said, nodding to Genevieve. Then, to Gideon, “I hope to see you soon. I love you.”

“I love you.” His smile was soft, but knowing, as he dipped his head slightly.

As I crossed the threshold, their excited whispers followed.

“I haven’t seen?—”

“They’re both?—”

“We’re brilliant?—”

Followed by a soft clap.

I found Aspen in a nearby corridor, perched precariously atop a ladder, using his wind magic to lift small baubles to the higher branches of an enormous pine.

“You know you could stand down here and still do that,” I teased, stopping at the base of the tree. “Instead of risking your immortal life on that rickety contraption.”

The corner of his lip curved ever so slightly, his attention still on the evergreen. “Ah, but it’s much more daring this way.”

“Always one for theatrics.” I rolled my eyes, bending down to gather more ornaments.

He descended the last few rungs as I straightened, hands full of delicate glass baubles. He plucked a few from my grasp, set them on the ladder step, then tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

“I ran into your mother on the way here,” I said, watching him out of the corner of my eye as I rifled through the box of decorations. “Along with Gideon.”

His brow wrinkled. “Both of them?”

I nodded, biting the inside of my cheek.

He exhaled, his barely concealed grin spreading. “Why do I feel as if they were up to no good?”

“Because they probably weren’t,” I laughed. “Behind Gideon's polite facade lay a scheming mind. Altaerra, in general, seems to fall for it.”

“No wonder they get along so well,” he muttered, shaking his head slightly.

Well, that was news I’d be questioning later.

Aspen eyed the assortment of decorations I had been piling into my arms, a wicked gleam sparking in his gaze.

“All right, Virlana,” he said with an air of confidence that betrayed him. “You’ve missed far too much of the festivities—we must catch you up.”

Before I could react, he wrapped both hands around my waist and hoisted me from the floor, yelping, to plant me firmly atop his shoulders.

“Get to work,” he nagged, his attempt at sternness poorly concealing his amusement. “We’re losing daylight!”

Ornaments floated up to where I sat as he launched into an explanation of his preferred holiday pine decorating method.

“You have a methodology for Felfrost decorations?”

“It’s a three-tiered, color-coded system, Virlana.”

We circled the tree, filling every branch with delicate, shimmering trinkets. He made a dramatic show of gasping in horror when I placed two similar ornaments side by side, so I did it again. And again. If only to elicit his exaggerated outrage—though the small squeeze he gave my hips each time didn't go unnoticed.

Cheerful music drifted through the corridor, mingling with the rich, decadent scents wafting from the kitchens.

The moment my feet touched solid ground, he spun me toward him, seizing my forearm to exclaim, “Cranberries!”

I blinked, scanning the hallway. A palace worker drifted past, arms full of confections topped with tiny red berries.

“It’s probably the tarts,” I pointed out, gesturing to the passing tray, amused by Aspen’s sudden enthusiasm. The prince did have a wicked sweet tooth.

“No, that’s—” He shook his head, eyes wild. “That’s what it is!”

I stared up at him, thoroughly puzzled—and equally surprised by his apparent zeal for cranberries. “I’m assuming you enjoy cranberries?”

Both hands shot up to my cheeks. “Iris, it’s—” His grin was lopsided and completely unrestrained, silver threading his gaze. “It’s you.” He shook his head again, a strand of white hair falling across his forehead. “You smell like cranberries.”

“What? I—” I glanced around skeptically, bending my neck to sniff at my dress.

“I’ve been trying to figure it out for months, ” he laughed, his head thrown back, and it was so joyous my heart stuttered. “It was so familiar— I have no idea how I didn’t— Of course—” he cut himself off, pulling my face towards his and crashing our lips together in a bruising kiss, his smile never once faltering.

I’d harvest all the damn cranberries in the world if they made him this happy.

“I’m not sure why,” I started when we broke apart, lifting a strand of hair to my nose. “Maybe it's my…” I trailed off at the expression he wore, unable to recall a single word I had ever spoken.

He laughed again, eyes crinkling at the edges. I had never seen him so happy. He breathed into me once more, wrapping me tightly against him.

“Cranberries are my favorite.”