Chapter 18 #2
She snorts. “Please. I’ve trained my whole life for this,” she says without explanation. “I can run circles around you, fiancé.”
We don’t run, though. We walk side by side, the snow crunching beneath our feet. Forest creatures go quiet, watching us pass, until a pair of winter larks trills out a musical greeting before taking to the skies. Val watches them go, enraptured.
I should not be this aware of her. Not the way her breath curls in the air. Not the way her eyes catch flecks of azure branches and pink sky. Not the way her mouth twists with her wandering thoughts.
Eventually, Val bumps my shoulder with hers, and I feel it down to my bones.
“You really know every plant in these woods?”
“Enough not to eat the poisonous ones,” I say.
“Ah, good. Let’s not do that.”
I chuckle. “Don’t worry. I promised you a fun day, and I keep my promises.”
She lets out a breathy laugh. “I didn’t expect this. Any of it.”
“What, the snowy trees? The wildlife? The stinging snow on your cheeks?”
“No,” she says, shaking her head. “I thought the Frozen Forest would be harsher. Scarier. But it’s beautiful.”
“You sound surprised.”
“I thought I knew about the world. But I expected something more…unforgiving.”
“And now?”
She hesitates, then looks at me. “Now it feels like so much more than I was told. Not just the landscape, but the people. You. The kids. This whole life you’ve built.”
The honesty in her voice makes me slow.
I catch the way her eyes track a lone deer through the trees. “Give it time. You haven’t shoveled the cottage path in a blizzard yet.”
She grins. “Still beats being stuck inside all day, waiting for something to happen.”
“True, but then I figured everyone in the Sundalands spends their days outside. You know, at the beach, sunning themselves.”
She coughs. “Oh, right, the Sundalands. Well…when the storms blow in, then people stay inside.”
“Hm. I guess the lesson here is that we never really know how others live.”
“Lark, all those things you said back there about schools, the orphanage, the towns… I didn’t know any of that.” Sincerity rings in her voice.
I shrug, not wanting to expose her any further. “You do now.”
She’s quiet after that. Our steps crunch in sync over the snow-packed trail. The quiet between us is easy, allowing us each room for our thoughts.
Mine settle down a strange path, thinking how easy it is to forget that she’s only in our lives for a short while. This isn’t the beginning of anything, just a pause along the way.
My restless energy always wants to keep moving on to the next thing.
Sentry Niemi may have forced this stop on us, but as soon as this is over, we’ll move on again.
I’ve spent my life chasing the next step on a path I can’t see the end of, keeping busy so I don’t have to look behind me.
The orphanage might have been the only home I’ve known, but it never felt permanent.
It was always one bad winter or one official’s stormy mood from being taken from us.
It’s why I’m so desperate to give the kids something different.
This woman makes me want things, though. Dangerous things. But slowing down means facing the possibility of failing. Of trying and still not being enough.
A raven caws in the distance, and the branches above sway, shedding a few flakes that sparkle as they fall. Val brushes one from her shoulder, her mouth turned down in concentration.
Finally, without looking at me, she asks, “Do you ever…have to kiss people?”
That draws my head up. Where have her thoughts been?
“That’s a jump.”
“In plays,” she clarifies. “If you’re pretending to be in love. Acting, I mean.”
“Ah. Sure, sometimes. I’ve played a few romantic roles, not in plays with the kids obviously, but before. There was a kiss or two.”
“Right. Part of the act.”
I eye her. “Why?”
She pauses mid-step and says, far too innocently, “I was just thinking…we might need to. You and I.”
My heart stutters.
She keeps her gaze forward. “If someone suspects us. Thinks we’re not affectionate enough. You said people notice things. We should be prepared.”
“Prepared,” I echo, because that’s apparently the only word left in my vocabulary.
“We’re alone,” she points out.
Okay…
I should say something witty. Clever.
I can’t feel my feet.
“I…right now?” Come on, brain.
Aaaand…. Nothing.
She nods. Steps closer. “Like this?”
Storms below. This is happening.
“A little closer,” I whisper, lifting a hand to her neck.
Her face tilts tantalizingly near. Her snowy-fresh smell fills my senses.
I sway. Closer still.
She’s right there, leaning in to meet me.
And I kiss her.
Her lips are cold yet soft, and they warm swiftly beneath mine. The forest drops away, leaving nothing but this roaring inside me that says yes, this.
It’s not just a brush. It’s sudden. And breathtaking.
Her hands creep up my chest, spreading warmth like flame. So much for ice magic. She’s pure heat.
Her lips part, and I lose control of my limbs. My hands find her waist and neck, tilting her head back, deepening the kiss, like I could melt us together if we could just get closer. She tastes of wintermint, and feels like home.
When we part, she stares at me like I’ve said her real name out loud. And maybe I’ve given something away without meaning to.
“…Well,” she says, breath catching. “You are…rather good at that.”
“Could use more practice,” I murmur.
“Yes. Right. We should practice.”
Because I can, I kiss her one more time. Gentler this time. A soft promise, full of the spark of wonder I feel.
We walk the rest of the ridge trail in silence, but everything has changed.
Every brush of our sleeves and every flick of a glance carries new, electric energy.
The air sparkles around us. Ice crystals catch in sunbeams like tiny diamonds that swirl across space and time.
Val stares out over the valley, lit with rose-gold clouds and lavender mist. It’s like something out of a storybook.
But I’m not looking at the valley.