Page 58 of A Kingdom of Frost and Malice

“Absolutely.” Time to stretch my legs sounded divine.

Roar placed five gold coins on the table and stood. I followed suit, trying not to notice as many eyes trailed us on our way out.

The sun had grown stronger since we’d been in the tavern, though a biting chill still hung in the air. Our guard joined us as puffs of white blossomed from their lips.

I turned to Roar. “Is there a shop where I might buy some fabric? I’d like to make a gown. I can even start in the sleigh.” My fingers itched to work with fabrics again.

“You really like to sew? Even after what you’ve been through?”

“I do. It was my one saving grace in my old life. I’m quite good at creating gowns and suits, too.”

He studied me as if trying to work out a puzzle. “I’m sure you are. Perhaps, one day, you can make a garment for me?”

The question hung in the air. More and more, I believed that Roar might want me to stay.

And though he was a handsome lord and that should be completely flattering, I wasn’t sure what I thought about that. Staying in Winter’s Realm was not smart. It was much too close to the Blood Kingdom, particularly the western territory. And if I were to remain here, I’d want it to be for true love.

“I’ll start with a gown,” I said breezily. “Then you can see if you like my style.”

“If Clemencia lets you sew in the sleigh.” Roar winked.

Just the thought of more studying made me want to run all the way to Avaldenn. But if I were to survive the court, I needed Clemencia’s lessons. Sewing would make them more bearable, at least. Perhaps if I mentioned making a dress for my lady-in-waiting, she’d be more lenient and let me study and sew at once. It was worth a shot.

“I’ll convince her.”

Roar’s emerald eyes twinkled with amusement. “Come, there’s a shop down this way.”

I burst out of the shop door; my cheeks warm despite the chill in the air. Roar’s guard fell in behind us, as professional as ever. “Their silks and chiffons were to die for! You’re sure that the order will make it to the sleighs?” I cast a glance back into the store where the workers, two nymph sisters, packaged the many materials Roar had purchased for me. Snow lilies decorated their long, flowing green tresses.

“Your order will make it. They wouldn’t want to lose such business.” Roar laughed. “I have to admit, seeing you in there was something else. You were as happy as a leprechaun in a coinary.”

“I’m used to working with fine materials, but not choosing them to my tastes.” I admitted. “I suppose I got a little excited by the prospect.”

“What will you work with first?” he asked.

“The amethyst silk. I’d like to make an evening gown for myself. For a long time, I’ve had a design in mind that I simply adore.”

His eyebrows rose.

“What?” I chuckled.

“Amethyst would look perfect on you.” His gaze went to my eyes, brushing by the scar on my temple. I occasionally caught him staring at the crescent marking I’d had for as long as I could remember. Perhaps he wondered why I wasn’t applying Althea’s balm there, or covering it with cosmetics, but I just couldn’t seem to let go of that part of my past. The scar might be ugly to some, but it represented a time when I’d had a real family, a place in this world.

“Thank you,” I said, and was about to suggest stopping into a shop to our right when a satyr appeared before us.

“Pardon m’lord! M’lady!” The satyr picked at a patch over the elbow of his faded yellow jacket, clearly nervous to have approached the Warden of the West.

Roar laid a soft hand on my shoulder, as if to say that he regretted the interruption, though when he turned to the satyr, he was attentive. “Hello there.”

“Pardon me bargin’ in.” The satyr gave a shallow bow. “But a few in town were wondering if your lordship wouldn’t mind blessing our Drassil?”

Roar leaned back. “That’s not—”

“You’re not a royal, but you’re close enough, ain’t ye, m’lord? Our tree ain’t doin’ so good.” The satyr hung his head.

“What about your High Staret? Can’t he do it?” Roar asked.

“Died twelve turns back and no one has taken ‘is place. There ain’t a soul in this town that can do the blessing. And I reckon that no one else is brave enough to ask you, but the tree won’t last much longer, m’lord.”

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