Page 36 of Winter's Fate

As they continued on through the woods, she stole occasional glances at Callum Farrow. More than occasional, if she was honest with herself. Of course, the man was huge, and therefore often in her line of sight. It was impossiblenotto look at him.

But it wasn’t his size that kept drawing her eye. Nor was it his striking looks, though she couldn’t deny that she found him handsome; she tripped over her feet more than once whilestudying the way his curls brushed the back of his neck. But she’d seen many a handsome man in her life, and she’d see plenty more. It would be foolish to go mooning after this one. Especially this one.

No, her distraction was due more to the way he’d asked her about Kat, how he’d seen straight through to the heart of the situation.

You’re helping your sister, despite how badly she treats you. Why?

Simple. Because helping Kat meant helping Etra. Laena would help Etra until her dying breath, even if no one else ever knew it.

And yet, a small voice inside her head insisted that if she cared for Etra, she would stop prodding at her magic. Stop working on it, even in secret. That it would be better for her to have sacrificed her life in the garden to that wraith than to continue practicing magic.

For all his kind words, Callum Farrow would say the same, were he to learn of her power.

But Callum had accepted Brin. Not merely accepted her; hereveredher. If he felt the shimmerling’s magic was good, and different from a heart-tithe, then he might respond the same way to her.

Then again, Laena’s power was hardly a gentle glow to light their way. Her magic was a sharp thing. A weapon.

It had never frightened her the way it should. And that, more than stablehands or sisters, was why she had abdicated the throne.

Which was why no matter how handsome she found him, she had to keep her distance from Callum Farrow.

They made camp after a long day of walking in the woods, dining on foraged root vegetables and a hare he’d hunted with his knives. They were lucky not to have lost their knives in the wreck; she found she was ravenous. The vegetables could not roast too quickly. She plucked them out of the coals too eagerly,nearly burning her tongue, while Callum shook his head and grumbled about princesses in the wilderness. She would have snapped at him had she thought he meant it.

Even unsalted, the food was divine. Perhaps the best meal she’d ever tasted.

Laena should have been exhausted. Instead, the food gave her a new energy. She couldn’t ignore the knot of ice at her core, the way it begged her to let it free. It wanted to be tested.

Shewanted to test it.

When they’d eaten every last morsel, Laena said, “You look exhausted. I should take the first watch.”

Callum rolled his shoulders, grimacing. “That is not the kind of compliment a man likes to hear.”

“It’s not meant to be a compliment. You look like you were shipwrecked and then dragged through a forest. It’s not as if I look any better.”

He scowled at her. “I beg to differ.”

The compliment startled her. He couldn’t mean that. Her clothing was dirty and torn, her hair a thick mat around her shoulders. But he certainly didn’t seem like the sort of man who was given to flattery.

“All the more reason for me to take the first watch,” she said, keeping her tone as airy as possible. She hoped she didn’t sound too eager lest he grow suspicious.

Either she succeeded, or he was too fatigued to notice. Instead of arguing, he stretched out on the ground near the other side of the fire, pillowing his hands behind his head. Within seconds, he was snoring softly. Clearly one of those men who could fall asleep anywhere. She supposed it was a helpful quality in a soldier.

Still, she waited several minutes before settling herself a touch farther from the fire, where she could probe at her power without competing with the heat. Her ice could overcome flames—she’d tested that—but it wasn’t the easiest feat,and she saw no reason to dampen their only source of warmth.

So she scooted back toward the edge of the ring of firelight. Then—carefully, always so carefully—she called her power forward.

It responded with a jolt, as it often did when forced to lie dormant for a few days, the cold spreading through her chest and down her limbs until frost bloomed from her fingertips. She shaped the magic into snowflakes, marveling at the way they twisted into the summer air.

It could be a practical magic; she always had ice in the summer months, after all. Aside from that, she hadn’t let herself think much about the ways it could be useful. It was a pretty magic, fun. Light. Though it felt like a betrayal, she’d sometimes wondered—in the long nights since Ben left—whether it had been worth abdicating the throne for such a magic. If it could truly be as dangerous as she’d feared.

She would always hearken back to that day in the council chambers, force herself to recall the screams of terror, the feel of hands shoving her out of danger. When she’d been the one to cause the danger in the first place.

The battle with the wraith in the garden suggested—no, it damn near proved—that there could be times when sheshoulduse it to fight.

It ought to frighten her. Instead, she wantedmore.

Ice crackled from her fingertips, snapping as it flowed from her hands to coat the surrounding underbrush. The sound echoed too loudly in the quiet of the night, and Callum stirred. Laena went still, but he didn’t move again. Still asleep. And no wonder, after the taxing day.

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