Page 83 of Horn of Winter

“Interesting, given said dreams didn’t warn you about Rogan.”

“Exactly.” And really, they should have, given Rogan had tried to toss me into that Annwfyn’s gate in Pynwffynnon.

“Perhaps the dreams will become clearer as your talent grows stronger.”

“Yeah, but what do I do in the meantime? Look suspiciously at everyone?”

He laughed. “Maybe just be cautious about letting anyone new into your life.”

“I have more than enough men in my life, if that’s what you’re referring to.”

“I wasn’t.”

“Like hell.”

He laughed again and, as his driver drew to a stop, leaned forward and said, “Henrick, can you collect Miss Aodhán’s order and bring me the receipt?”

“Mathi, you can’t pay?—”

“I can charge the council for expenses. You cannot.”

Which was absolutely true, so I didn’t argue any further. Henrick came back a few minutes later, handed us the coffees and the buns, then smoothly drove off to the address I gave him. We arrived right on ten, and Win was waiting at the door.

His bushy gray eyebrows rose when he spotted Mathi. “You wouldn’t be Amir Dhar-Val’s boy, would you?”

“His nephew.” Mathi held out his hand. “Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Frost.”

He laughed. “Not sure your uncle would agree with that. We’ve had some words over the years.”

“As have I,” Mathi said dryly.

Win laughed again and ushered us inside. I led the way into the kitchen, and Win shuffled after us. This time, the table had already been set.

I put the coffees down, then used the tongs to place three buns on the serving platter and handed him the remainder. His cheeks dimpled. “You’re definitely spoiling me.”

I sat down with a smile. “According to Darby, you’re chattier when you’re well fed, and I need to pick your brain.”

His grin flashed, but he nevertheless tucked the extra buns into the bread bin before sitting back down and reaching for the butter. “And what would you be needing to pick my brains about? More than just the names of the ice witches you came here for, I take it?”

I nodded. “There’s a storm witch following me via the wind, and he seems to be operating from a position of height—some place that has sandstone cliffs overlooking a meandering river. I don’t suppose there’s a special place you lot gather to muster storms is there?”

“No, there is not, though that might have changed since my day.” He took a sip of coffee and made an appreciative noise. “There’s really only one hill around these parts that fits that description—Helsby Hill.”

Which wasn't a place I’d ever been to, but I could vaguely remember seeing it on various motorway signs I’d passed over the years. “He also felt disconnected. Unanchored, if you will.”

“It’s a rare talent to be feeling such a thing,” Win commented.

“‘Rare’ and ‘Bethany’ have become synonymous with each other,” Mathi said dryly. “It makes interesting times even more so.”

Win’s gaze ran between us. “You two together?”

“Sadly, no,” Mathi said before I could.

“Why not? What’s wrong with you, lad?”

“Bethany deserves more than I could ever offer her, though that doesn’t mean I do not want her back in my bed, and she is well aware of this.”

“She is,” I replied dryly. “Just as he’s awarewhythat will not happen. Now, can we please get this conversation back on track?”

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