Chapter One
Boraleashe
Far From Home
Boraleashe clenched his jaw tightly, glaring at his brother. It would be a mistake to rile him. Before Boraleashe could send out a frustrated gust of frigid wind to locate who he’d come for, he appeared above him.
Theodor floated like a delicate leaf on the warm flow of his south wind, his oversized emerald robe blocking Boraleashe’s frost blowing down from the north.
Fhomhair’s palace lord stepped forward and announced, “Hail Lord Theodor Cavalerie, King of Fhomhair and Titan of the South Wind. The Treasure of the Harvest and all realms!”
Theodor dropped to the ground in front of him amidst a storm of red and orange leaves. He stood to his full seven feet, staring Boraleashe in his eyes.
By the gods, he’s more gorgeous than I remember.
Boraleashe didn’t voice the compliment, forced to be his usual cold self. “Have you no respect? Your tardiness is unappealing and beneath your station.”
The look Theodor gave him was enough to make Boraleashe forget the rest of his chastisement. The new king stood there smelling like spiced apples and cinnamon in his formal attire and full copper armor. His robe floated majestically on the wind behind him.
Theodor inched closer until his chest was pressed against his, his body hot and solid.
His voice was grated, his tone lethal. “Since you did not offer me nor my father the courtesy of sending word of your intended visit to my realm…” Theodor glared with those piercing hazel eyes. “You should be honored by my lateness.”
Boraleashe concealed his tremor beneath his heavy robe, or at least he hoped he hid it well. To maintain power, Boraleashe reached up and caressed a long lock of Theodor’s honey-brown hair, allowing the silky strands to sift through his fingers.
“You know why I am here, don’t you, Autumn Lord.”
Theodor’s hushed gasp caressed his jaw, his body tensed against him. The tail of his floating robe fell to the ground at his feet. He had to know just what Boraleashe was about to remind him of. Yet still he whispered it into his arctic wind and sent it into Theodor’s warm spirit.
“The Snow Moon approaches.”
All was quiet for a long moment, he and Theodor standing close to each other, breathing in anticipation, the dread, and the unknown future.
Notalus cleared his throat loud enough to gather his court’s attention. “It is a great honor to host the Titan of the North here in Tir an Fhomhair. Come, brother.” Notalus pulled Boraleashe’s attention away from his son. “I will escort you and your court to your quarters myself.”
Boraleashe gave Theodor the slightest bow in respect and was pleased when he returned the gesture. But Boraleashe hadn’t expected Theodor to suddenly push his wind and disappear into the orange sky. He hadn’t wanted the treasure to leave so soon, but Boraleashe would be sure to find him later.
Time was of the essence.
Boraleashe fell in step beside his brother Notalus while their court followed at a respectable distance.
He glanced around the palace grounds, taking in the autumn scenery.
Fhomhair was a world different from Tir an Amárach.
He observed servants smiling while picking ripened fruit from the trees in the courtyard.
He wondered if every task in Fhomhair, no matter how menial, was an absolute joy to perform.
In the Arctic World, Boraleashe’s people had to hunt and gather their food, often in treacherous conditions. His brother’s people congregated with friends and family, able to roam the vast land free of any danger and threats.
Guards and occupants of the palace stopped and bowed when they walked past, and Boraleashe was mindful of being courteous in return, but he was not there for ceremony; he wasn’t there for a holiday visit.
His life and his land were in danger, and there was but one man who could help him, but his hopes diminished with each step he took through Fhomhair’s colorful paradise.
Who would dare want to leave this kingdom for me?
Notalus seemed to walk forever to get to the guest quarters.
Boraleashe was led up numerous steep stone steps and through halls decorated with expensive tapestries and paintings of fall landscapes.
They weaved in and out of open courtyards full of trees and greenery flourishing under the autumn sun.
Boraleashe unclasped the thick sable fur from around his neck and passed it behind him.
He didn’t know which servant took it; it didn’t matter. He was burning up.
“By the gods, Notalus, how much further? You live in a damn twenty-story fortress. We should’ve flown to my rooms,” he complained after turning the hundredth corner and heading down another long, well-lit corridor.
“And does it have to be so goddamn hot in here? You have the sun’s heat waves coming in through every opening. ”
Notalus may have thought Boraleashe didn’t see him roll his eyes or hear the cursed grumble under his breath, but he did.
“Right this way, my lord.” A slim, handsome man in a sleek black tailcoat hurried ahead of them and gestured toward a set of double doors beyond an overdressed sitting area.
“Thank you,” Boraleashe sighed. “Finally.”
Notalus followed him into the rooms. “I hope you will find everything to your satisfaction, Boraleashe. I would’ve had more accommodations if I had known of your arrival.”
“I’m sure,” he muttered.
No doubt there would’ve been sunflowers, apple wine, and fruit baskets galore in his quarters if he had sent word ahead of his arrival, all things that repulsed him.
His viceroy, Adresin, went to the balcony that overlooked a majority of the kingdom before he answered Notalus. “We won’t need much, lord. Our court are humble servants. What you have here is more than enough.”
“Boraleashe, this is Iulien Galis, head of my personal staff. He will see to your every need while you’re in Fhomhair.”
Boraleashe responded to the deep bow Iulien gave before he stood with his spine straight and his hands clasped behind his back. “Is there anything I can provide for you at this moment, my lord?”
Boraleashe undid the first couple of buttons at the neck of his tunic.
“Yes, there is.” He pointed to the massive stone fireplace that looked as though it’d just been lit, the blaze heating the room to an unlivable temperature.
“I need you to extinguish the gateway to Hades’ underworld over there.
And please be sure that none of my ales or teas contain even a drop of pumpkin or cinnamon. ”
Iulien bowed again, a slight grin tilting one side of his thin lips when he answered, “Of course, lord.”
Notalus came toward him. “I would hate for you to be uncomfortable in this climate, Boraleashe. How long will you be gracing us with your presence?”
The annoyance in Notalus’ voice was evident, but at least his brother was being courteous enough to host him regardless of Boraleashe’s manners and rudeness.
“Rest assured, lord. Our stay will be brief,” Adresin answered for him, his soft voice dripping with kindness.
“How brief?” Notalus retorted, and Boraleashe could feel his brother’s eyes boring into his back.
“Until I have what I’ve come for.” Boraleashe struggled to keep his temper in check.
Adresin touched Boraleashe lightly on his shoulder, a gentle reminder to remember their mission, but he chose that moment to ignore the warning.
“Leave us, Notalus,” Boraleashe asserted, not asking.
Knowing it would be considered disrespectful, Boraleashe jerked hard on his wind from the north and sent it hurtling into the room with a powerful enough surge that made Notalus shield himself with his robe before the doors to Boraleashe’s chambers slammed shut.
Adresin threw him a furious glare. “You won’t earn Notalus’ understanding by disrespecting him in his own home, nor will he advocate for you to his son.”
Boraleashe didn’t watch his viceroy turn his back on him and walk away.
Fuck. His most trusted confidant was right.
They had come to the Realm of Autumn with a grave purpose, and if Boraleashe didn’t fight harder, they’d leave empty-handed, and his kingdom would be doomed.
He was attempting the impossible, he knew it, but he had to try.
If the curse only affected him, Boraleashe would’ve said his goodbyes to his kingdom and died with dignity long ago.
But he wouldn’t let his people suffer for his own stubbornness.
The Snow Moon Demon wouldn’t have been strong enough to curse him if Boraleashe’s core hadn’t lacked love, leaving it vulnerable.
He should’ve known better to try to cheat the Gods of Fate.
In his defense, he’d been trying to protect his fragile heart.
He wasn’t like Notalus and Zepharali… Boraleashe wasn’t like any other titan.
He didn’t wear his heart on his sleeve or give it away as eagerly as the others because it was too dangerous, too risky.
Yet, he was still mandated by the universe to gift his heart to another, risky or not. And he’d refused. For more than a millennium, Boraleashe chose to shelter and hide it instead, avoiding life by fighting war after war and battle after battle.
For good reason.
Boraleashe was a descendant of the IceFall lineage and firstborn son to the Titan of the Winter Heart.
Which meant Boraleashe possessed a love that was incomparable to all.
A winter heart so powerful and consuming it could almost be too much for one to receive.
And for any reason if it was to ever get broken, Boraleashe would suffer a misery far more excruciating than the Snow Moon’s.
But the universe had called upon him again. Boraleashe was out of time.
He must either honor the gods for being blessed as an elder with dominion over an element… or be judged.
Now that Boraleashe was cursed, his soul unable to feel, his core impotent, his odds had doubled. He’d have to have blind faith in the one he allowed in.
With my winter heart… how, gods?