Page 42 of Horn of Winter

“You can take two steps out the back door and do that.”

“I definitely could, but I needed to be somewhere where I wasn’t likely to be disturbed.”

“Fair enough, I guess. Do you want to walk back to Watergate Street near the corner of Bridge Street, and I’ll pick you up? It’ll take me about fifteen to get there.”

“I’ll grab us coffee from Panna’s if they’re not too busy.” I paused. “Would your witch like one?”

“His name is Winter Frost?—”

“You’re kidding me.”

“Apparently it’s a tradition—a rather mean one if you ask me—that the firstborn son every generation gets that name.”

“And I bet they all got a lot of ribbing from their peers growing up, him being an ice witch and all.”

“No doubt, and yes, he undoubtedly would love a cappuccino, as he doesn’t treat himself too often. See you soon.”

I hung up, but before I could tuck the phone away, it pinged. It was a text from Eljin, asking if I wanted to go out for dinner that evening. I smiled and sent back,Feeling horny again, are we?

Insatiable.

So, we’re eating at your place?

I amnota heathen. There will be a divine restaurant experience at Viridis before we indulge in sex.

Viridis was one of the five supposed “dining sensations” within Deva, and one of only twenty-three restaurants in the UK to be given a Michelin green star for high levels of gastronomy and sustainability. When it had initially opened, the waitlist had been at least eight months long, but there were always a few daily cancelations to be snared if you rang early enough. I’d been there once before, and it had indeed been a divine experience.

What time?

I’ll pick you up at eight.

Perfect. See you then.

I tucked the phone back into my purse, then made my way across to Bridge Street, enjoying the music of the storm and the dance of rain across the pavement. Thankfully, Panna’s wasn’t busy, so I ordered two cappuccinos and a latte for Darby, grabbed a half-dozen sticky buns, and then headed out to wait under the awning. She arrived a few minutes later, and leaned across the mini’s front seats to open the passenger door for me.

I handed her the drinks then climbed in. She drew in a deep breath and sighed in delight. “Sticky buns. You’ll be Winter’s best friend from now on.”

“Thought he might appreciate them given what you said, and besides, they just smelled too good to ignore.”

“That they certainly do.”

Once I’d buckled up, she gave me back the tray and drove off. Winter lived in Hoole, which was beyond the walls of old Deva, in a two-up, two-down red-brick terrace that was close to both the train station and Hoole’s Community Center. Darby found a parking spot a few doors down and we walked back to his bright blue door.

Darby rang the bell then stepped back a little. A surprisingly robust voice called out, “Coming,” but we were huddled in the confines of the small awning that covered the top step for quite a few minutes before the door opened.

Winter Frost was tallish, thinnish, with silvery white hair that hung in clumps that somewhat resembled icicles, and pale, almost parchment-like skin. He was stooped over and using two walking sticks that again looked like ice, though the gentle humming coming from each told me it was just a paint effect over wood.

He greeted Darby with a smile and a quick hello, then his strange, silvery-blue gaze swept me and what I was holding, and his smile grew even wider. “Ah lass, you know the way to an old man’s heart. Come in, come in, before you and the goodies get soaked.”

I smiled and followed Darby inside. It was a pretty standard layout for a house of this age—stairs directly ahead, a reception room to the left, through which was a combined kitchen-dining room. The kitchen was basic, but had all the usual appliances—a four-burner stovetop, underbench oven and, in the corner, a front-loading washing machine. The fridge was tucked between the dining room window and the glass door that opened out into a small patio yard.

“Please sit,” he said. “I’ll get some plates and cutlery.”

I glanced at Darby and raised an eyebrow, silently asking if we should offer to help. She shook her head and sat down. I handed out the coffee, placing his and the buns in the middle of the well-maintained, white particleboard table.

I sat down next to her and watched as the elderly man gathered the plates, knives, and the butter dish, balancing them all in the crook of one arm while he used one stick to steady himself and walk back. After carefully depositing them on the table, he shuffled back and retrieved a cake tray. Once he’d displayed the buns and given us each a plate and a knife, he finally sat down.

“Now that we’ve got that done with,” he said, sliding the tray toward us. “Why don’t we start with the official introductions.I’m Winter Frost, Win to my friends, and I was adjutant to Halston Moore, who ran the guild before Marjorlaine took over.”

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