Chapter 25 - Breaking the Ice
Wrenora
The gem had worked. The pig pranced away happily, rooting in the muck.
Callan didn’t move, staring down at his trembling hand as it hovered in space, deep breaths causing his shoulders to rise and fall.
I could only imagine what he felt in that moment.
Eight years without touching another living soul, other than animals protected by fur or feathers.
He looked over at me, his eyes wide. He pulled the mask down from his face.
“I...” He swallowed, turning back to the pig, determination in his stance. “I have to be sure.”
This time he ran his fingers up the length of the pig’s back before reaching with his other hand. He flipped it, resting the back against the pig’s skin.
The amethyst ignited with purple light that blanched until it was blazing white.
I shielded my eyes and took a few cautionary steps back before the light burned out and we were plunged into near darkness.
As my eyes adjusted, I glanced back over at Callan standing beside a very frozen pig in the middle of the stall.
His shoulders sagged as he held out two empty hands, turning to me with frustration marring his beautiful face.
“I knew it was far too good to be true,” he said, mock amusement staining his voice.
But now I knew it was likely a weakness in the stone itself. Amethysts were softer gems. I should have started with spinels.
“I’ll do a spinel next. It’s sure to work.”
He shook his head then stormed away, leaving me to wander back to the fortress alone.
––––––––
I sat up in bed, sweat running down my back despite the frigid temperature. Light peeked between the drapes on my window, splaying warm gold on the wall beside me. Someone had been knocking.
Before I could respond, the door swung open and Magdala rushed in with a servant on her heels.
“Wrenora! Thank the Gods you’re awake. You’ve never slept so late.” She pulled a steaming cup from a tray the servant carried, holding it out to me, concern written across her face. “Some tea. It should help you warm up.”
I took the cup, breathing in the steam. So warm. The heat of it soaked into the marrow of my bones.
“Are you alright?”
My attention snapped to Magdala. I’d gotten lost in the earthy fragrance and sweet undertones of the tea.
“I’m...fine. Just exhausted from imbuing yesterday.”
Magdala checked my forehead for fever. Then, pleased enough that I wasn’t ill, she stood to leave.
“I’m worried about you—that you’re working too hard,” she said as she stood over me. “I’m worried about him, too.”
“Him?” I knew who she was talking about.
“Since the two of you returned from Dyga, he’s been...”
She didn’t finish. Instead, she took the half-full cup of tea from my fingers.
“You should stay clear of him. I worry...” She turned my face toward hers, with her index finger under my chin. “Perhaps you should rest here today.”
And with that, she swept from the room.
My thoughts were a mess. Between the failure of my first imbuing and now Magdala’s words, I wanted to snuggle back under the covers and sleep for weeks. Instead, I pulled them back and slipped to the edge of the bed.
I changed quickly into a simple dress that had been left for me.
The material was warm, and I couldn’t help but run my hands down my stomach and hips, admiring the buttery softness of the fabric.
I combed my fingers through my hair, trying to tame the mess of loose curls, but it was a lost cause.
I gave up and slipped my feet into the satin slippers the queen had given me before I ducked into the hall.
I was determined to find Callan. Magdala telling me to stay clear of him made me burn to do the opposite.
I crept through the halls as quietly as I could, not interested in explaining myself if she should find me before I found him.
It was the way she’d discouraged me from talking with Callan when he was the only thing I could think about.
I climbed the servants’ stairs to the landing where Fynn was usually fed, finding the cat’s water dish magically full as it had been before.
I passed through the iridescent barrier without hesitation.
When I touched the handle to Callan’s study, the door swung in as it always had.
The words he’d spoken about the threshold being warded replayed in my mind.
I didn’t know enough about ward magic, but I couldn’t remember ever being invited or given permission to enter.
He was stooped over the massive map again, shirtless as he’d been before. This time, I didn’t try to hide, stepping into the room and drawing his attention immediately. He sat back on his feet, his expression innocuous.
“Good morning, or rather, good afternoon,” he said, a touch of humor coloring his voice. How different this greeting was from the first time I’d found him like this.
I desperately tried to keep my eyes glued to his, but it was impossible.
My gaze lingered on the scar on his ribs that matched the ones on his cheek.
He stitched himself, he’d said, and it hurt my heart to think he’d managed to close up the massive wound on his side.
The amount of willpower it would have taken to withstand the agony was immense.
There was a new scar—small and nearly unnoticeable—on his arm, where he’d been cut in Dyga.
He rotated his arm to follow my eyes before he met my gaze again. “It didn’t need stitching.”
Heat crept into my cheeks. Fucking Nine Hells. When had he gone from being an object of fear to one of intrigue? Not that I’d tried to hide that I was admiring him, but it was still embarrassing that he’d noticed.
I took a few more steps into the room before I was stopped by the soft fur of a cat around my ankles. With a smile, I scooped Fynn up, tucking his warm little body against my side.
“He missed you,” Callan said with a nod. “Seems he likes you far more than he likes me.”
“How do you know?”
Callan’s lip curled on one side in the tiniest grin. “Trust me, I know.”
He reached for a shirt and pulled it on. The material draped over his muscular shoulders in a way that was almost more revealing. He was so much less intimidating this way. Not one of the most powerful mages on the continent. Not a prince. Just a beautiful elven man.
I took a deep breath, trying to clear away the thoughts. I had questions to ask, and the tug that seemed to grow stronger each day was pulling me toward him.
“Magdala’s worried about you.” The words popped from my mouth before I could stop them.
A muscle feathered in his jaw. “She worries entirely too much about things she has no control over.”
“Perhaps she cares for you.”
He folded his arms, a stoic mask falling into place over his features, but he didn’t respond, gazing back down at the map instead. My eyes followed, pouring over the paper covered in notations in Old Runic. He’d covered every inch of the border around the map.
“I didn't know elves used Old Runic.”
Something in his expression changed, a twinkle of humor glinting in his eye.
“They don’t.”
“But—”
“I use Old Runic.”
There was something about the way he said it that sent a shiver through me.
“Seems like something someone would do if they were hiding something.”
He smirked, his eyes slipping closed for a moment.
“I’m not hiding anything, but the frost elves are,” he said, standing at the edge of the map as he gazed down.
Frost elves? But he was a frost elf. One of the last of them, if I remembered correctly.
He and his mother and father. The others had been killed one by one.
The tales told of elves far too powerful for this realm that even other elves had wished them dead—assassinations happening as recently as the war.
“If the information I’ve found is correct, there’s an entire colony beyond the Breven Mountains.”
But the Breven Mountains were the end of the continent. No one had ventured so far north. It was rumored to be a barren, frozen wasteland of granite and nightmares. If anything lived in such brutal conditions, it could only be something that could endure the most extreme of temperatures.
“But that’s...”
“Impossible?” he finished for me, that same glimmer of humor in his gaze.
“Maybe not impossible, but very unlikely.”
He nodded. “I’m hopeful if I find them, they can help me learn how to control my magic without a suppression gem.
I fear they may be the only people who can help stop the winter blight.
” His expression darkened. “Until I find them—until I have a suppression gem—I owe it to myself and my people to learn everything I can.” His eye contact was firm, unyielding.
“Plus, this keeps my mind occupied when there are other things it would rather pursue.”
I took a sharp breath, feeling the thread pull in my chest. It was as if we were trapped in a whirlpool, dragging us closer and closer with every rotation into the center. I took a step back, needing the distance.
“What will you do when you find them?” I asked as my gaze wandered to his lips.
“I’m not sure I’ll live long enough.”
My eyes snapped back to his. He couldn’t be so old he was in fear of dying.
“Is your death so imminent?”
He smirked. “I’m not exactly well liked.
” When he met my gaze again, the intensity of his glare made my eyes water.
“Someone has been trying to have me killed since the war, thus the attack on the way to Dyga and before that, when I obtained the sapphires. And before that, when I got these scars.” He touched the edge of his chin.
“Perhaps if you were a touch less broody...” My breath caught as the words left my mouth before I could stop them. I shouldn’t insult a prince, even one who stood before me in the most casual way possible.
A smile melted onto his lips—bright and friendly and beautiful—stealing the breath from my lungs.
“Perhaps if someone was brave enough to drive my broodiness away...”
Heat flooded my cheeks as he stared, his smile melting into a soft expression. This was the side of him I didn’t want to know, because I could like him. And I shouldn’t want to like him.
“I need to go...” I said as I tried to look anywhere but at him, feeling the thread that had eased pull taut once again. Without another word, I fled his study as quickly as I possibly could.