Page 102 of A Bride for the Winter King
My mouth dries up. I wasn’t lying when I said I was dying, so I give a small incline of my head.Here goes.
The peel of the frost apple yields with a heavycrunch,the burst of flavor like biting into a firm, sweet iteration of Elio’s skin. Ice and sugar. Frosted sin. The juices dribble down my chin, the ripe flesh dissolving like a mix of crushed ice and cotton candy in my mouth.
“Eat it all,” Elio murmurs, his eyes drinking in the sight of me munching on the apple until I’ve swallowed the last of it.
The core prunes and crumbles in my hand. I dust off the icy crumbs as Elio wipes the remaining sap from my lips with his thumb.
The powerful itch in my side is about the only clue of the apple’s true power. Tingles rage war on the venom until the pain that had been a literal thorn in my side for weeks vanishes completely, and I hold my breath for a moment.
The corners of my husband’s mouth twitch. “Long live the queen.”
Chapter 41
Family
LORI
Majestic ice wolves run in tandem in front of the royal sleigh, hauling us toward the lake. Moonlight reflects off their thick white fur, and warm exhales frost in front of their onyx-black snouts. Contrary to the wolves summoned by the Gray Man, these fantastical beasts are flesh and bone, and a keen intelligence shines in their yellow gazes.
Halfway to the solstice’s shrine, the place where the winter solstice ritual takes place, Elio flattens his hand on my belly and presses me to him. His hold is desperate as though he expects me to crumble to ashes at a moment’s notice.
“If they’re planning an attack, it’s going to take place on the lake, when we’re at our most vulnerable,” he says.
The rhythmic beat of the wolves’ paws hitting snow, along with the glide of the runners, drown out our whispers and protect us from the cameras’ nosy microphones. Our televised wedding didn’t allow for the mention of the attack Ayaan warned me about, and there wasn’t time to dawdle if I didn’t want to alert our enemies. But I haven’t stopped talking since wemounted the sleigh, trying to fill in the blanks as quickly as possible.
I lean into his embrace. “Sara must have strategized with Damian and the hunters by now. I’m sure they’ll find a way to get near the shrine without being seen.”
“It’s risky. The other royals will wonder why they weren’t involved. They don’t like to be left out of the loop, especially when darklings form alliances.”
I shrug, unperturbed by what the royals think of us at the moment, as long as we can prevent the Tidecallers from murdering Elio and stealing the souls. “We can deal with them after. They can hardly expect me not to involve my family in all of this.”
I’m underdressed for a winter expedition, but the cold can’t touch me here, in Elio’s arms. Fae weddings are meant to link two individuals and their magic forever, the ritual completed upon consummation. I suspect that, even though we haven’t gotten to that part yet, the new magic running through my veins has already started affecting how my skin processes ice.
Elio’s breath rushes down the slope of my neck. “Do you really think of Damian as family?”
“His wife, Nell, is the sister I never had. You have her to thank for this wedding, you know.”
He buries his nose in the crook of my neck and kisses the sensitive spot below my ear. “I’m sure she’s lovely, but I’m surprised to hear he’s married. That’s not something he made public.”
“They wed in secret, but if we can capture Morrigan tonight, they might not have to hide anymore.”
The pressure of his lips near my pulse point blows away any strategic thought from my mind. “Careful. I need to focus.”
“Focus onme,” he teases, and the hunger simmering beneath the words melts my insides.
“Morrigan can morph into a spider. That’s how she got away last time.”
His brows furrow. “That’s incredibly advanced blood magic.”
“Yes. She leveled up since you last saw her.”
The lake of souls—the frozen lake I caught a glimpse of from the castle’s parapet on my first day—spans for miles in the center of the Frozen Hills. Elio and I hold hands as we walk from our sleigh to the open-air gazebo standing near the shore.
White, curved spires radiate out of the gazebo structure, round columns holding up the roof. A solid block of platinum-streaked marble hovers a few inches up from the surface of the ice, and the elevated platform allows for an unobstructed view of the lake.
Contrary to normal ice, the pristine coat of frozen water covering the lake is completely transparent, the turquoise lake beneath our feet even brighter in the dark. Thousands and thousands of lights swirl and move under the ice, one for each soul that has been carefully collected during the year.
Winter Fae lean into their craving for voyeuristic entertainment without scruples, so this wedding’s consummation isn’t expected to take place in a honeymoon suite or a tent in the middle of the gardens, but here, witnessed by the immensity of the lake—and one of Paul’s cameras.
