My question faded into blackness. A sure sign that Rhys was nowhere
near Velaris. Likely not even within the borders of the Night Court. Also
not unusual—he’d been visiting our war allies these months to solidify our
relationships, build trade, and keep tabs on their post-wall intentions. When
my own work allowed it, I often joined him.
I scooped up my plate, draining my tea to the dregs, and padded toward
the kitchen. Playing with ice and snow could wait.
Nuala was already preparing for lunch at the worktable, no sign of her
twin, Cerridwen, but I waved her off as she made to take my dishes. “I can
wash them,” I said by way of greeting.
Up to the elbows in making some sort of meat pie, the half-wraith gave
me a grateful smile and let me do it. A female of few words, though neither
twin could be considered shy. Certainly not when they worked—spied—for
both Rhys and Azriel.
“It’s still snowing,” I observed rather pointlessly, peering out the kitchen
window at the garden beyond as I rinsed off the plate, fork, and cup. Elain
had already readied the garden for winter, veiling the more delicate bushes
and beds with burlap. “I wonder if it’ll let up at all.”
Nuala laid the ornate lattice crust atop the pie and began pinching the
edges together, her shadowy fingers making quick, deft work of it. “It’ll be
nice to have a white Solstice,” she said, voice lilting and yet hushed. Full of
whispers and shadows. “Some years, it can be fairly mild.”
Right. The Winter Solstice. In a week. I was still new enough to being
High Lady that I had no idea what my formal role was to be. If we’d have a
High Priestess do some odious ceremony, as Ianthe had done the year
before—
A year. Gods, nearly a year since Rhys had called in his bargain,
desperate to get me away from the poison of the Spring Court, to save me
from my despair. Had he been only a minute later, the Mother knew what
would have happened. Where I’d now be.
Snow swirled and eddied in the garden, catching in the brown fibers of
the burlap covering the shrubs.
My mate—who had worked so hard and so selflessly, all without hope
that I would ever be with him.
We had both fought for that love, bled for it. Rhys had died for it.
I still saw that moment, in my sleeping and waking dreams. How his face
had looked, how his chest had not risen, how the bond between us had
