Page 28 of Winter's Fate

“Then they were not truly contrite.”

He studied her, as if looking for a trick behind her words.When he didn’t find one, he said, “All right, I will concede. Whatdoyou think, my lady?”

She thought that if he kept calling her ‘my lady,’ she was going to smack him across the face. She could not have said why it bothered her so, when his soldiers called her ‘princess’ and ‘your highness.’ Only that it did.

“I don’t know if you are a good man or not,” she said. “But I do believe it was the bottle speaking to me last night, through you.”

He swallowed, his throat constricting. “You may be right. And for what it’s worth, I am sorry.”

Had he tried to deny that he’d been speaking directly to her, pretending that his words had been for Godfrey’s benefit or the men’s amusement, she would have stood and walked away. But he didn’t. He accepted her accusation, her correct assessment.

As it was, it would be hypocritical of her to refuse his apology when, after all, his words had set her on fire. Still, she felt that her nod was too prim, too proper. “Apology accepted.”

He smiled, a real smile this time—a full one, none of that half-smile nonsense—and for a moment she wondered if they might actually have a chance at being friends. Not real friends—she couldn’t risk that, with her abilities secreted away—but friendly companions, at least.

And then his gaze dropped to her lap, his eyes widening in shock. “What in the Miragelands are you doing withthat?”

Laena had forgotten she still held the icicle in her lap. A dangerous thing to forget. She shrugged. “This? I’m taking it to show King Hawk the poison that infiltrated my garden. It might be infiltrating the land.”

Callum sat back, propping the heels of his hands on his knees. “Oh? So I’m to understand that your sister wishes you to discuss the pest in your vegetable garden with the king?”

How quickly he went from contrite to judgmental. It was no mere vegetable garden, nor was her fear contained to whathappened on her own property. He was a soldier, a guard sent to escort her safely to Aglye. What she discussed with King Hawk should be none of his concern.

Though, was it not his job to root out magic and dispose of its users? And here she had practically waved the magic from her garden in his face.

Warning bells sounded in her head, but she was too annoyed to heed them. “Does this look like a typical pest to you? It spat out a blasted wraith. If my sister does not want me to discuss it with Hawk, then perhaps she’s hoping it will invade Aglye.”

“Perhaps she’s sending it with you to do that very thing,” he shot back.

“Then I would hardly display it for you, would I? I would keep it secret.”

“I can always smell a heart-tithe.”

“It’s not a heart-tithe… At least I don’t think it is. It’s something else.”

But she did not know for sure, did she? It might be heart-tithed magic that some villager had planted in her garden.

Strong magic. The heart-tithe would have required a strong sacrifice indeed.

Callum drew in a breath, let it out slowly. She wondered if his head was hurting him after his indulgences last night, if his stomach was roiling. Or if he was so used to the ill effects of the whiskey that he hardly noticed them anymore.

“All right,” he said. “I wish you had told me. Could you not have planned to merelytellhim of this… poison crystal?”

“Would you believe a mere story?”

Callum ran a hand through his hair, clearly conflicted. She clutched the crystal tighter, afraid he would grab it and fling it into the sea. But he was not so foolish. He kept his hands on his knees. “I would believe the story if you told it,” he said finally, his words sending a spark of warmth through her chest. “ButHawk…” he trailed off, eyes distant. “Perhaps you were right to bring it.”

The ship dipped suddenly, and Laena pitched headfirst toward the rail, her knees knocking into the bench. She threw her arms out to catch herself, but it was Callum’s arms closing around her waist that kept her from tumbling overboard. Still annoyed with him, she shook him off. But a shout went up from the crow’s nest, and she looked up just in time to see a bolt of lightning crack out of the sky and strike the center mast, which split with a roaring crack. Callum wrenched Laena toward the bow as it cleaved the deck in half. Rain poured out of the bruised sky with the suddenness of an overturned watering can, drenching Laena’s garments in an instant.

She’d been squinting into the sun not five minutes ago. How could the blissful day have turned so quickly to a storm?

A second bolt of lightning came searing out of the sky, filling Laena’s nose with singed wood as it struck the deck. Smoke erupted from the fallen mast, the rain doing nothing to quell the flames. If anything, they seemed to lick up toward the drops, as if using them to gather power. The smell of burned hair and sulfur filled the air.

It was unnatural.

Callum was still holding on to her when the third bolt struck. Before the ship could split, he grabbed her hand and pulled her overboard into the sea.

CHAPTER 11

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