Page 77 of A Throne of Blood and Ice

It takes passing the third tapestry for me to recognize the golden-haired girl at the center of each.

They’re Gunter’s work, I realize. I want to stay and examine them, to witness the adventures Gunter has imagined for Nox’s sister. Still, I can’t help but notice the way Nox’s gaze seems to avoid them as we pad through the halls, so I let him lead me away without protest.

Dark-stained walnut seems to be the wood of choice for the furniture, along with red velvet for the cushions of the benches that line the hallways we pass.

The wood paneling of the flooring has a dark sheen to it, one that provides a glossy pathway for the moonlight to slide across.

As we slip through what looks to be the palace’s main corridor, Nox tugs at my hand, pulling me in close as he hides both of us behind a thick tapestry. Moments later, footsteps sound through the hall, but I can hardly hear them over the pounding of my heart, the feel of my back pressed to Nox’s chest, his firm stomach.

In a single fluid movement, he’s slipped his hand over my mouth—I suppose thinking I’d scream—the other wound around my waist, pulling me into him lest my figure make an indentation in the tapestry.

His touch glides to the notch of my hip, and my whole body trembles as he tucks his chin into the space between my shoulder and neck.

I think we both stop breathing.

When the footsteps fade, Nox releases me a handful of seconds later than he has to.

When his touch is no longer there, the memory of it still burns. At the arc of my hip, the curve of my spine, the bend in my neck.

Am I imagining it, or does he let out a sharp exhale after he gently pushes me away?

He steals another drink from his flask before taking me by the hand once again. Then he leads me up a winding staircase, one that’s hardly wide enough to fit two abreast. When I shoot him a questioning look, he gestures for me to go first, and I do.

The stairs themselves are narrow, too, not to mention uneven.

Once, I slip, and Nox catches me by the waist.

I come to wonder if this is what Nox wants to show me—not where this staircase leads, but the staircase itself, and with his arms wrapped around me like this, I let myself wonder what would happen if I only shifted to face him. But then Nox nudges me in the spine, and I realize I’ve paused for too long, and I scramble up the rest of the steps before I can let myself be too mortified.

When we reach the top, there’s a door that I figure should be locked but isn’t.

“Go ahead, open it,” Nox whispers, though not nearly as quietly as he did in the corridors. I guess he’s not expecting anyone to hear us in what appears to be an abandoned portion of the castle.

I unlatch the handle and push.

This time, it’s not Nox’s touch that steals my breath.

It’s the sky.

I decideI’ve never seen color before. Not truly. The peonies that decorated the palace gardens in Othian, the orange and pink hues of the fading sun, the lavish blues of the ornate wallpaper in Dwellen —all imitations. Impersonators, shadows of the real thing.

Because when I step out onto the rooftop veranda and gaze up at the heavens, it’s like tasting air for the first time.

Swaths of turquoise and fuchsia stretch across the sky, swirling together like acrobats flying high above a circus ring, winding their bodies together in perfect unison.

Even the stars are outmatched by their brilliance, fading into the background as if in quiet awe, gentle admiration of the colors that paint the heavens.

“What do you think?” Nox isn’t whispering anymore, but I can hardly hear him.

My eyes sting, welling with salty tears, and I resent them for it, for trying to obscure my vision of the most beautiful sight in all of Alondria.

“It’s…it’s glowing,” is about all I can muster, because it is, and I can’t fathom it. How it works. How the teal glow and fuchsia swirls don’t seem to be coming from anywhere, how they seem like a reflection with no source at all.

Like they simply exist with no origin.

No purpose except to steal my breath and fill my soul with awe and wonder.

“It’s the aurora,” he says, and I hear a faint clicking as he shuts the door to the staircase behind us. “It was my sister’s favorite thing in the entire world.”

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