Page 1 of Shadows of Winter

1

Beneath the mountains of Evardor, winter’s shadows forever linger.

~ “Spring Cowers” by Erazidar the Poet

“It’s magnificent.” Kaylina clasped her hands and gazed enraptured at the dilapidated stone inn.

The walls were cracked and crumbling, seagull droppings spattered the rusty gate, and cracks wide enough to swallow stray cats plagued what she could see of the courtyard, but the location was perfect. Only ten blocks from King’s Cliff, with the Stillguard River flowing behind it, the fortified structure would draw all kinds of foot traffic. She wagered there was a view of the harbor from the—

“It’s a castle,” her younger brother, Frayvar, said. “We’re not fortifying ourselves to withstand sieges and invading armies. We’re starting a meadery.”

“Don’t forget the eating house. I saw how many cookbooks you brought.” Kaylina waved to the trunks they’d rolled up from the harbor on a rickety cart. As it had clattered over the cobblestones, getting stuck in ruts, horse droppings, and mounds of semi-cleared snow, she’d briefly lamented the number of romance and adventure novels she’d brought along, but a girl couldn’t be bereft on a long trip. “Our diners will feel safe and protected while they enjoy our offerings. This is the rugged north. People here probably insist on a secure place to eat.”

“Are you suggesting our diners will require an eating house containing both murder holes and machicolations?”

“Of course.”

Machio-what?

Frayvar sighed. “There’s no way we can afford the rent on a place this big.”

“You might be surprised.” The graying land agent they’d found in the market square smiled warmly as pedestrians and horse-drawn carriages and wagons passed on the boulevard behind them, the people casting curious—or were those wary—looks in their direction. “It’s been centuries since the Stillguard Inn went out of business, and the castle has been vacant for most of that time.”

Frayvar nudged a section of the courtyard wall with his boot, and the crumbling mortar gave way, a stone falling. “Kay, all we need is a dining room, a kitchen, a lavatory, and a well out back. Not this… monstrosity.”

A red-breasted bird chirped from a great oak rising at the corner of the property, the dark skeletal branches in contrast to the icy snow-smothered mountains towering beyond the city. It flew down and landed on Kaylina’s shoulder.

She pointed to it. “This is a good omen, right?”

“Animals befriend you everywhere,” Frayvar said. “If anything, it’s probably trying to warn you that this is a bad idea.”

The bird’s head rotated toward Kaylina, toward the castle, and toward her again. It emitted a concerned cheep.

Was Frayvar right?

No, Kaylina refused to believe that. The bird flew off when she lifted her arms and faced the castle, her dream so intense that she had no trouble envisioning it. Their meadery would be an extension of the family business that thrived far to the south, a chance to bring their food and drink to Port Jirador, the capital of the Zaldor Kingdom. It would be visited by lords and ladies and maybe the queen herself. People rich and poor would flock to taste mead crafted from Grandpa’s exquisite honey using Grandma’s recipes. Kaylina would bring pride to the family name of Korbian, and everyone would realize she wasn’t a screwup. She had what it took to build a successful business of her own, to find the contentment that had eluded her at home where others were always telling her what to do.

“Imagine it, Frayvar,” she breathed when she realized she was babbling the details of her vision aloud. “Can you see it?”

“No. I don’t hallucinate the way you do.”

Kaylina lowered her arms, frustrated, not for the first time, that Grandma had sent him to tag along and keep an eye on her.

“I don’t hallucinate,” she snapped. “I have dreams of what can be, what will be.”

“Dreams that you see when your eyes are open.” Frayvar turned to the land agent. “What is the cost of leasing this… establishment, and will repairs be included?”

“Certainly, certainly. With an acceptably lengthy lease agreement of course. No fewer than ten years.”

Kaylina gaped. Ten years? Was that normal? That was almost half her life.

“Commercial lease agreements in the kingdom are typically three to five years,” Frayvar said with certainty.

Given how much nonfiction he read, Kaylina suspected he knew that for a fact.

“Yes, but this is prime territory alongside the river and near the royal castle and the harbor. It also has a view of the mountains. Very desirable. Just yesterday, I had someone interested in leasing it, but he would only commit to five years. I was forced to pass. The landowner wants a longer contract.”

“How much is the rent?” Kaylina asked.

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