Chapter 40
Talvie
The morning after the hearing dawns brighter than it has in ages, sunlight gilding the snow in shades of rose gold.
In front of the inn, Taynia looks up from a hushed conversation with Beron at my approach.
Her expression softens. I’m not unaffected by seeing the warmth in her eyes again, but neither have the broken curses magically repaired everything splintered and strained between us.
“You’re ready to go?” I keep my voice light, but my walls are still up. I haven’t forgotten, even if I’m working on forgiving.
“We are,” she says. “I still wish you were returning with us. I want a chance to earn your forgiveness…to work on our relationship. Have you reconsidered at all?”
“No, and I’m not reconsidering Lark either.”
She sighs. “I just thought I’d ask one more time.”
“It doesn’t matter how many times you ask. My answer for him won’t change.”
Inhaling, she nods. “You’re so like your father. He wasn’t supposed to choose me either. Though at least I’m not Wilder, let alone, well…”
“Lyslander. You can say it. I’m proud of who Lark is, and all he’s had to overcome.
If anyone has a problem with it, they’ll have me to deal with.
The privileged folk of this land need to stop being so fragile about the differences between us.
If I’ve learned anything from these people, it’s that we’re stronger together. ”
Last night, when we returned to the cottages, we decided not to keep any more secrets, so Lark took off his hat while he was playing with Eevi, and simply let his ears speak for him.
I joined them, helping Aili with some monstrous drawings and leaning close to Lark.
All the while I felt Taynia and Beron’s eyes on us, but neither said anything.
Now Taynia is pensive. “These people have clearly earned your heart.”
“And my loyalty. Which is why we’re staying a while. Lark and I need some time to figure out what’s next, and I want to help Ylvara recover from the permafrost in any way I can.”
“I understand, and I will be waiting for you whenever you’re ready, Talvie. Again, I’m so very sorry for everything that happened after your Is? died. I thought I was protecting you, but I made everything so much worse.”
“The worst part is, I understood why you did it. I still miss him every day.”
“As do I.”
“Then do whatever you can to honor him and fix what has been frozen in fear. The damage isn’t just between you and me, Taynia.
The endless winter stripped away more than harvests.
It’s taken hope. People are struggling to survive because we pulled support, left roads impassable, left folk forgotten, all because the capital put ourselves above others.
If we’re going to mend what’s between us, we have to mend that too. ”
A shadow of regret softens her features. “I hadn’t realized how bad it was. There’s much to do.”
I nod, relieved to hear it from her lips. “That change starts here. I’ll come to the palace soon, and we’ll talk more then.”
“I know you’re certain about Lark, but I’ve already lost the trust of these folk out here. I worry this will only alienate the Point Fae, too. What if I’m seen as favoring the Wilder Fae? Especially a Lyslander.”
Frustration bubbles up. “You lost their trust because you let fear of weakness after the king’s death consume you.
Rimne’s walls may have sheltered your wealthy friends, but the Hinterlands is more than the nobility and the capital.
The only way we heal is by working together, and while they may not trust you, I’ve earned some sliver of goodwill.
I intend to spread it and bring us together the way we should be. ”
Beron, who has been watching silently, clears his throat. “The Huntsmen are more than willing to help, my Queen, if it is strength you need.”
She turns to him, sunlight softening her features.
Her black hair gleams. The single lock of white curves gently around her chin, and her gaze loses its ice as she looks him in the eye.
Finally, she nods. “About Lark…we’ll have to plan a big revel to welcome him properly.
Perhaps you can invite some of your new… friends.”
I follow her darting glances to all the townsfolk who’ve come out to see off the royal carriage procession.
What must Taynia see in their Wild faces, unique features, and simple garments meant for hard-earned lives?
I see love. Support. Trust between them.
Neighbors willing to help neighbors. Families bonded by a shared struggle.
Friends who would give each other their last golden sinkkaplum.
My smile reaches my ears. “Not a masquerade, though. If we do this, we do it without disguises. No ruses. Lark will be there as he is, as my chosen partner. I’m sure you can understand what that means to someone who’s spent his life hiding.”
“I can only imagine. He’s lucky he found you.”
“No, I’m the lucky one. I would never have made it out here without him. He showed me a whole new world, and it opened my heart after so long in the dark.”
“Then I have a lot to thank him for when you both arrive at Court.”
I shudder to think of returning to Court and all the stuffy rituals. Then I picture Lark’s little beasties there to inject their special brand of chaos, and I smile again. This could be fun. Rimne could use a big shake-up, and I have just the traveling acting troupe to show them the way.
“Goodbye, Taynia. I’ll see you again soon.”
Her lips press together, her hands tight at her sides. “I know I’m not your ?ti right now, but when you’re ready to see me as a mother again, I hope I can be once more.”
Not trusting myself to speak, I only shrug. I’m not sure what the future holds. For now, I can’t promise anything more than to try.
Beron opens the carriage door, then turns toward the front of the procession.
Taynia stops him with a gloved hand. “Ride with me.” For a heartbeat, he seems surprised.
Regaining his composure, he takes her offered hand, helps her up the step, and climbs in beside her.
As the mounted guards start out and the driver urges the reindeer into a smooth trot, the crowd parts.
Lark joins me, and together with the other townsfolk, our eyes follow the glistening tracks left by the sleigh runners. The sound of hooves slapping wet snow fades with the last jingle of harness bells.
“That’s new,” Lark murmurs.
I allow myself a small smile. “Or long overdue.”
He presses a kiss to my temple. “You were right about them. But I meant that,” he says, pointing to the road, where water runs down the ruts.
The melt we noticed around the cottages yesterday seems to be creeping outward. Last night, we all marvelled at the drip, drip, dripping from the icicles off the roof. By the time we went to bed, wet dirt was visible all around the three cottages.
Now meltwater threads through packed slush, catching pink sunbeams and throwing gleaming reflections.
“It’s starting,” I whisper. “Do we dare hope for spring?”
“Only one way to know.” Lark takes my hand. We collect the others on our way. “To the garden, little beasties!”
They’re all so happy after the hearing yesterday, they’ve scarcely left Lark’s side.
Aili insisted we all spend the night together, so we slept in a pile of mats and blankets in the living room.
I didn’t get alone time with Lark, but I wouldn’t trade the warmth of cuddling together while the kids piled around us for anything.
“Is Val coming?” asks Aili.
“Of course I am,” I tell her. I’m secretly thrilled that the kids are still calling me Val. I think I’ll ask them to continue. Forever.
Hellion and the twins race ahead, beating us there. Frost still edges the garden beds behind the inn, but in the middle, dark patches peek through the slush, revealing the rise and fall of rows once planted in autumn. The air smells rich with wet soil.
Mikael points. “Look.”
A tiny teal shoot has broken through, its tip curled tightly like a fist. Nearby, I spot a second shoot unfurling pale leaves that shimmer with moisture.
“Over here!” cries Johannes.
We hurry to the next bed, where a row of tender blue fern-like plants peek from the ground.
“What are they?” Aili asks.
“I think those are makarrots,” Lark tells her. “Sweet carrots. Hugo’s favorite.”
The hedgehog’s twitchy little nose pokes out from under the brim of Lark’s hat, which he’s wearing again. He’s not ready to let the rest of the world see him without it, but I have hope that we’ll get there. Meanwhile, Hugo flings himself onto the wet dirt, landing with a splat.
Lark chuckles. “They’re not ready to eat yet.”
Unhappy grunts. The hedgehog plops down in a sunny patch and begins rolling, kicking up flecks of mud with his quills.
“I have an idea,” Helkki announces. “If we could unfreeze Mika and Val with magic, we can thaw the rest of the garden too! We don’t have to wait!”
“Hellion, whatever you’re thinking—”
Too late.
With a delighted grin, she raises her hands and sends a plume of fire straight across the nearest bed. Snow sizzles, moisture hisses, and tender sprouts go up like little candle wicks all in a row. The fire fades, and all that’s left are charred stems.
“Hellion,” six voices groan as one, mine included.
“No,” Katja gasps. She drops to one knee to cradle the closest shoot in her hands. The blackened plant crumbles to ash.
“It’s okay,” Lark says. “They’re not dead.”
“Are you sure?” I mutter.
“I promise,” Lark assures us. “The roots are still alive under the soil. Just like they waited under the frost until it was safe to come up, they’ll try again. They just need a little time and warmth. Maybe not fire this time.”
Helkki shrugs. “I thought it was a good idea.”
While everyone watches the soil as if fresh growth is about to spring forth, my fingers tingle with warmth. Extending a hand over the bed, I reach for my magic. Not the clear and easy ice magic I’ve always had, but the opposite.
“Do that again,” Lark whispers, resting a hand on the small of my back.
Under my hand, a flicker of golden light dances over the garden bed. Lingering ice heaves a sigh and melts away, snow running down the rows in silver rivulets.
“You’re doing it!” Johannes exclaims. “Look, Juho!”
“I’m standing right beside you! Where else would I be looking?”
Smiling at the kids bickering, I try again.
“I knew you had more in you than frost,” Lark encourages. Then, he leans close enough to whisper in my ear. “Told you you’re hot.”
Ignoring that, I push a little harder on the magic. Golden light spills over the bed. One by one, shoots rise along the exposed rows, unfurling tiny leaves of teal and blue.
In Mika’s arms, Eevi giggles and claps her hands. “Boo, boo. Ees, boo!”
We all look. Where blue ivy covers the wall of Sparkwillow Cottage, new leaves make a pattern of aquamarine polka dots over the dusky old growth. The crawling vines cast a web of shadows in the haze of golden light.
I stare down in awe. “Ever since we thawed Mika after the full moon, I’ve felt something warmer under the cold. I thought it was happiness, because of my love for all of you.”
Lark slips his hands around mine. “Mirror magic. When you turned your ice magic loose, you must have reached your full potential.”
Blinking, I catch his fond gaze. “You think my magic is that strong?”
“Of course. You’re our future Ice Queen, after all.”
My nose wrinkles. “That title’s taken. Maybe I’ll be the Warm Queen instead. Wait, that sounds weird…and kind of gross. The Heat Queen? Ugh, no. Maybe Spring Queen.”
He laughs. “We’ve got plenty of time to workshop names.”
“Luckily, because those are terrible,” Katja adds.
We stay and watch the garden sleepily come back to life. I free two more beds of frost, leaving them streaked with damp soil and the beginnings of growth. When I step back, Lark is there to wrap his arms around me. It makes me feel like I can do anything.