Chapter 23
Days pass.
Castle Frostwyn, which has existed for so long in a state of beautiful neglect, slumbered for centuries beneath the snow, finally wakes.
All because Lord Rourke and Lady Marlayna are coming.
Members of Lady Atilia’s court arrive first, their carriages cutting dark lines through the snow-choked road.
They sweep in with lists and ledgers and sharp-eyed authority, taking stock of every draughty hall and sagging stair.
Where once there was silence, there is now the murmur of voices and the clatter of tools.
Luceran brings labor in from the Aurevault, and when I see Pax step down from one of the wagons, I cannot hide my smile.
He lifts one hand in a quick, crooked wave when he spots me across the courtyard. We walk toward each other, weaving around crates being hauled into the castle, until we meet somewhere in the middle of the chaos.
“Nice place,” he says, glancing up. “I see now why you don’t sleep over at the Aurevault.”
I laugh lightly, then my attention catches on his arm. “You’re not wearing your sling. Are you feeling better?”
He nods, clenching his fist once. “Better enough.” His gaze drifts over the courtyard, the flurry of activity, the miners hauling tables and chairs up the stairs. “Poor bastards.”
I arch a brow. “Are you not here to carry heavy things up stairs as well?”
He lifts his chin, eyes sparkling as he grins. “Oh, you haven’t heard? I’ve been handpicked by Lady Atilia to serve the food. Apparently, I’m far too pretty for menial labor.”
“Are you now?”
He nods solemnly. “Oh, yes. If I were you, I’d jump on this opportunity before it gets away from you.”
I tilt my head, brow furrowing. “What?”
His expression shifts, the grin fading as his eyes darken, his voice dropping into something quieter. “You heard me.”
My breath hitches, sharp and unexpected. I’m used to his flirting, but this is far more direct than usual.
Then his face cracks and his chin dips. “Sorry. Must be all this excitement.” He wets his lips. “I’m only kidding. Unless you don’t want me to be.”
I stare at him, unsure how to respond, unsure what I even feel.
“Neve Devlin,” a voice booms from the top of the stairs.
I turn to find Luceran standing there, heavy fur shifting in the wind.
“I have work for you inside,” he says. Then his gaze narrows on Pax. “Shouldn’t you be lifting something, foreman?”
With that, Luceran turns and disappears back into the castle. I bite my lip to stifle a laugh.
“He clearly doesn’t think you’re so pretty,” I say.
Pax sighs. “Clearly.” He offers one last soft smile. “Hopefully, I’ll see you again soon.”
I nod politely but do not reply, lowering my gaze as I turn for the stairs and jog up them one by one.
Inside, the bustle continues. Broken windows are stripped of their warped frames and replaced with fresh glass hauled up from the lower villages, the new panes catching the pale winter light like sheets of ice.
Snow is shoveled from balconies and battlements, from courtyards that have not seen bare stone in years.
Cobwebs are wiped from vaulted ceilings. Dust is scrubbed from banisters. Every surface is cleaned, stone, wood, iron. Rugs are beaten out in the courtyard, sending clouds of dust spiraling into the air.
Unlike Pax, I have no desire to escape the hard work.
My fingers ache from the cold water used to wash the long tables in the great hall.
My shoulders burn from hauling buckets and carrying armfuls of linens, but I do not mind.
It is satisfying. Each task leaves something visible behind, something changed, and with it I am shown more of the castle. Including the ballroom.
It takes a group of men to break through the great double doors, their hinges locked tight, frost sealing the seams where wood meets stone.
The first shove barely moves them. The second sends a sharp crack through the air as ice fractures.
It is only when wooden poles are wedged between the doors and the men lean their full weight into them, boots skidding on the frozen floor, that they finally groan open.
Cold spills out.
My breath catches in my throat, then the ballroom steals it from me entirely.
The walls are almost entirely glass, vast arched panes framed with swirls of gold rising from floor to ceiling, each one frosted over in lace-like patterns.
Pale light pours in, fractured and softened, turning the room into a cathedral of ice and sky.
Beyond the glass, the world is white and endless, snowfields stretching out like a dream.
Above us, a chandelier hangs suspended from the high, domed ceiling.
Once, it must have been crystal and gold, a masterpiece of craftsmanship.
Now it belongs to winter. Every tier is encased in ice, each dangling prism transformed into long, dripping icicles that catch the light and scatter it in shards of silver and blue across the marble floor.
For a moment, it feels as though I am standing inside a snow globe, sealed away from time, preserved in perfect, breathless stillness.
No dust.
No decay.
Just beauty.
Someone exhales behind me, a low whistle of awe. Even the men who moments ago strained and cursed at the doors stand silent now.
I take a single step inside, my boots sliding slightly, and try to imagine music here. Laughter. Silk skirts sweeping across the floor. Bodies pressed together as they spin in unison.
“All of you, get out,” Luceran booms.
My spine stiffens. I swallow hard. Have I managed to wander into another room I am not meant to be in? I turn to find Luceran filling the doorway, the workers giving him a wide berth as they hurry past, just short of breaking into a run.
The cavernous room empties in moments, and I take a step to move around him as well.
“Not you,” he says.
I stop.
My stomach flips, nerves scattering.
He strides toward me, tormentingly slow, until he is towering over me. Cold rolls off him in palpable waves, frost curling pale along his skin with every measured exhale.
He reaches for me.
His hand closes around mine, the other settling at my waist before he pulls me hard against him. There is no hesitation in it. No question.
I gulp, my pulse skittering as I look up into his clashing eyes. “But you said…” My gaze flicks toward the vast glass walls. “Someone might see us.”
He does not answer with words.
Instead, he lifts his chin.
The ballroom doors slam shut with a thunderous crack, frost racing up the seams as they seal.
Ice surges out from beneath his feet, sweeping across the marble floor in a rushing tide.
It climbs the glass in an instant, frost blooming and spreading until the world beyond vanishes, and we are left utterly, impossibly alone.
“Is that better?” he asks.
“Yes,” I say. “It is. Actually.”
His hand tightens at my waist.
And then we begin to dance.
We move together slowly at first. My boots slide over the ice-slick floor as he leads me. There is no music, but I feel it anyway, in the steady pull of his body, in the flustered rhythm of our breathing, in the rapid, overlapping beat of our hearts.
The dance tightens.
Each step draws us closer until I can feel every chiseled ripple of him beneath his clothes.
His hand shifts higher at my back, fingers spreading, claiming, and my body responds before my mind can catch up.
I draw tight, every nerve turning molten, an unbidden surge of warmth pooling low in my stomach.
The shimmering ice upon the mirrors reflects us from every angle. My red hair, wild and loose. His ivory hair, smooth and perfectly straight. Winter and fire locked together, and I can no longer tell where the dance ends and the wanting begins.
Then his restraint snaps.
In one smooth, effortless motion, he lifts me. My breath leaves me in a sharp gasp as he draws me up onto his hips and presses me against the wall. The layer of ice shatters against my back, splintering beneath the force of him, but we barely notice.
I clutch at him, heart racing, the world tilting as he leans in, his forehead resting against mine.
“Did Pax really make the Lord of Frostwyn so jealous that he breaks his own rules?” I breathe into his waiting mouth.
Luceran grinds himself against me, a low sound slipping from him as his hand slides beneath my skirt, circling my thigh.
“I have never envied a human,” he mutters, his lips brushing mine. “Not until today.”
Then he kisses me, hard and deep. His grasp on my thighs tightens, fingers curving around the tops of my woolen stockings.
I feel him, hard and thick through his trousers, pressing against the heat throbbing between my legs.
Gods, I still remember the sight of his cock that night in the barn.
The weight of him in my hand. The strain when he released.
And right now, I want nothing more than to wrap my hands around him once more.
To stroke the rigid length of him while he groans and thrusts in my grip.
My mouth waters as Luceran lifts me higher and presses me against the wall, freeing his other hand so he can reach beneath me and trail a finger along my thigh.
He buries his face in my neck, lavishing hot, breathy kisses over my fevered skin.
I gasp when he presses that finger inside me, louder than I mean to, and he is quick to hold me there with his hips alone.
My legs wrap around him as he brings his other hand up to cover my mouth.
“I’ve covered the window. I’ve locked the door,” he growls. “But I cannot make every single person in this castle deaf. If you want me to keep going, keep your mouth shut.”
He says it just as he slides a second finger inside me.