Chapter 18
The morning air was clean and crisp. Snowmelt ran through the streets over cobblestones as the sun shone on the snow lingering on rooftops.
Kellan’s summer house sat near the northern edge of Drumhaven, perched above the frozen river like it had been built specifically to mock winter itself.
It was enormous, not like a castle but certainly comfortable. Its heavy wooden walls were etched with symbols of wolves, trees and birds of flight. Smoke spilled from one of its chimneys into the morning air.
"Try not to look too impressed,” Kellan said smugly as he pushed open the gate. “I become unbearable when admired."
Kellan knocked on the door only for it to be answered by a sour-faced Lettie.
"So," Kellan mused, grinning already, "I take it you've made up your mind?"
Lettie closed her eyes and muttered something like a prayer for patience before letting them in. The house enveloped them in warmth and the smell of fresh bread.
Marta and Gerald sat in two well-appointed chairs next to a roaring fire. She was patching clothes with the look of someone severely offended by damaged fabric. Gerald sat in a chair looking deeply contented with himself and Kay worked in the kitchen preparing breakfast.
Mirielle brightened seeing them so comfortable while Reis lurked just behind her like a deeply ill-fitting shadow.
"Aye, I'll be coming with you," Lettie announced in open defeat.
"See? She'd miss me terribly," Kellan replied, absolutely beaming with glee.
Lettie rolled her eyes so hard it looked painful.
"No." She spoke slowly as if she were explaining to a fussy child. "I am going because I'm not leavin' her locked in a castle by herself all winter with a bunch of large, terrifyin' men."
Mirielle flinched.
Dane looked at Lettie, mildly offended. "I'm not terrifying."
Everyone looked at him.
Dane frowned slightly.
"Never mind."
Reis looked like someone had slapped him across the face. The comment took him so off guard he actually took a step back. It wasn't offense or anger, but realization because Lettie was right. Rosthein was exactly that.
A massive, terrifying fortress buried beneath impassable snowdrifts.
Nearly everyone within Rosthein Keep was a man.
It was filled with members of the Iron Host, squires raised on warfare, warriors built into giants and sharpened into weapons by war and winter.
The fortress practically breathed violence.
And at the center of it all—himself.
Reis looked down at Mirielle, small beside him, soft-spoken and gentle, southern in every possible way. A sickening feeling struck his chest with enough force to hollow him out.
If Ambersaith had been a prison for her, what would Rosthein become?
He finally saw it through her eyes. The cold, the isolation, armored men staring at her as she walked beside the Blood King.
But what choice did he have? They were at war. He was needed there. And there was no place more safe from the war than Rosthein.
He looked around Kellan's summer home with a face of longing. All warmth and firelight and the people she knows. Her friends. If only Kaldyr weren't at war. If only he could end it quickly, she could be here.
But she couldn’t. If his enemies knew—if Myrkur knew she was here in Drumhaven, Mirielle, his only weakness—he wasn’t sure he could defend it.
He looked down at Mirielle again. She had already retreated somewhere inside herself, silent and small beneath the weight of the conversation.
Guilt struck through him like a spear. Leaving her vulnerable to Myrkur was not an option he could even consider.
"Reis." Kay's worried voice broke through his thoughts as he entered the room carrying a steaming loaf of butter-baked bread. "I don't like this."
Reis looked at Lettie and his heart sank further.
The pass had been filled, but he still needed to return to Rosthein. They would need to take the longer way around and Mirielle couldn't stay here. He wouldn't bring Mirielle if he didn't think it was the safest possible option for her.
But as much as he didn't want Mirielle to feel alone or trapped, Lettie would be safer here. Nobody was hunting her. Nobody had reason to.
"Lettie would be safer here until spring,” Reis admitted quietly.
Kellan crossed his arms.
“Maybe…”
“I don’t know why all the men in this room seem determined to make choices for me,” Lettie interrupted.
Every head turned.
She looked furious now, cheeks flushed, eyes like hot fire. “I am not leaving Mirielle alone with you lot and that’s the end of it.”
The entire room went quiet save for the spit of the fire.
Then Kay spoke carefully. “Can’t I go instead?”
Lettie rounded on him.
“And leave her to cross half the kingdom with four enormous, terrifyin' men she barely knows instead of three? I'm sure that will help.”
Reis looked like he regretted existing. Dane did too.
“You don’t even have a proper cloak,” Kay argued weakly.
Kellan straightened.
“I beg your pardon?”
The room fell silent.
Kay blinked. “I just meant—”
“You think,” Kellan interrupted slowly, “that I would allow her to freeze?” There was genuine offense in his voice now. Sharp enough that even Dane looked surprised.
“I—”
“Of course I’ll buy her proper winter clothes.”
“Kellan—” Lettie started cautiously.
"Don't you start,” Kellan warned.
"But..."
"You were about to tell me not to spend money on you."
"Well..."
Everyone stared because Kellan was almost never angry. Usually he laughed through everything. Smiled through everything, but now he looked genuinely furious.
Kellan raked a hand through his hair.
“Kellan—”
“No.”
“Kellan.”
“No.”
His expression darkened further.
"You are not walking through Kaldyr without even a fur-lined cloak and proper shoes. You were shivering on the way here."
Dane leaned quietly towards Reis. "This is the angriest I've ever seen him."
Reis rubbed his hand over his mouth.
"Mm."
"Yer being ridiculous. My cloak is fine."
Kellan heaved.
"We are buying you proper boots, we are buying you fur-lined cloaks, gloves, wool dresses. All of it.”
"Yer being rich at me," Lettie accused.
Kellan threw his arms in the air. "What else would I do with it?"
A strangled noise escaped Reis that could have been a laugh.
Kellan huffed and turned back toward Lettie with the exhausted patience of a man speaking to a particularly unreasonable woodland creature. “It is not my fault that you insist on being tiny. You tiny people require an alarming amount of fabric to survive.”
"I survived many winters before meeting you."
"Yes, badly.”
Lettie gawked at him in open offense.
Kellan sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You were freezing on the ride here, Lettie.”
Kellan exhaled quietly, some of the fight draining out of him.
“I just…” He rubbed a hand over his face. “...I don’t want you cold.”
*
The market roared with life. Shoppers crowded every corner of the avenue. Merchants hollered sales as they passed while the northern sun filled the street in its midday light.
Reis followed behind Mirielle like a wall of black steel and fur in a trance of hypervigilance, scanning the crowd constantly, looking for any threats.
At first Mirielle was filled with wonder. They passed stands filled with treats, steaming sweet rolls and skewered venison. Other stands carried embroidered belts, stacked pottery, soaps and perfumes.
But the farther down the lane they went, the more anxious she became.
The sheer noise of it all seemed to block any coherent thought.
Laughter burst too loudly at a nearby stall.
Raised voices from angry vendors bartering with customers made her flinch.
She had never been around this many people and her mind couldn't sort through it all.
Her eyes shifted around the avenue, flinching at every burst of noise like it was an impending threat.
Mirielle had no idea how or where to start. She wasn't sure if they had already passed stalls they should have visited. Without realizing it, she started to shrink into Reis.
Reis put his hand on the back of her neck. Not controlling but grounding.
"Are you alright?" he asked, concern threaded through his voice.
The sound of him seemed to pull Mirielle from a fuddled trance, as if she had momentarily forgotten he was beside her at all. She blinked and looked up at him.
"Lettie," Kellan interrupted, "don't you think this is exactly the right color for Dane?" he said, holding up a violently bright yellow scarf.
Lettie muffled a laugh into her mitten.
Dane, who had been following like a kicked puppy, looked at it in horror.
"This is torture."
"This," replied Kellan smoothly, "is called socializing."
"This is the worst thing I've ever experienced."
"You've been stabbed."
Mirielle flinched. Reis's hand tightened slightly.
"Yes," Dane said darkly, now looking regretfully at Mirielle.
"You once spent an entire winter stranded in Bleakhorn Pass."
"Yes."
"You've been here thirty minutes."
Dane looked genuinely horrified. "It's only been thirty minutes?"
Just then, the crowd shifted. Dane's head snapped to a man carrying a heavy crate hollering curses at someone behind him. Every muscle in Mirielle's body locked in response to his angry tenor. Then he shifted his direction, putting Mirielle directly in his path.
Mirielle barely had time to react. Reis did it for her.
In one fluid motion, he pulled her to him, burying her in his chest. With his other arm, he shoved the man hard, knocking him down and sending his crate toppling across the ground in a deafening crash.
"Watch where you're..."
The man's voice died a quick death as he looked at the monster before him.
"You first." Reis's voice was icy calm. Mirielle was frozen stiff under his grip.
The man looked up at Reis, saw the Blood King, the sword across his back, the cold fury in his face.
“I—I... my apologies, my king,” he stammered.
“Leave," Reis ordered, unfastening his cloak.
The man didn’t hesitate. He scurried to his feet and disappeared into the crowd, leaving his scattered wares behind.
Reis’s attention returned to Mirielle at once. Her entire body had locked in a rigid cage and her breathing was only coming out in small breathy pants.
He wrapped his cloak around her, covering her completely.
It shaded her from the sharp winter light, dulled the roar of the market, muted the overwhelming movement surrounding her.
Her eyes were pinched shut into his chest as she breathed against her body's involuntary reaction.
She focused on the sound of Reis's steady breathing against her ear.
Reis stood there in the middle of the market, holding her against his chest until her breathing finally began to ease. He waited patiently, silently watching the market move around them.
Kellan caught his eye from several paces away and gestured toward a quieter corner of the street.
A shop lay buried in a wall behind street vendors, its windows donned winter cloaks. A heavy wooden sign laid fixed to its wall.
The White Pine Atelier
Reis hesitated. For a moment he thought it might be best to return to the tavern but that would end the day poorly. Taking her hand, he carefully directed Mirielle into the shop.
A small bell chimed overhead. The door closed behind them, drowning out the sound of the street. The tension in Mirielle's shoulders immediately eased.
The store smelled of pine, dusty wool and blankets that had spent decades drying in front of hearth fires. Plush plaid carpets lined the floors, softening the sounds from outside.
A small, rotund man with kind eyes looked up from his ledger at the sound of the chime. His eyes swept over the group quickly. He saw Reis first, but when he saw the young woman cowering beneath a large black cloak, his face contorted into a frown.
"Oh dear. You poor thing, markets are dreadful this part of day."
Mirielle tensed from being addressed.
Reis wrapped his arm more tightly around her. "She needs quiet," Reis said without taking his eyes off Mirielle.
"No rush, take a seat by the fire. I'll get some warm cider, no charge." Something in his voice lacked sharpness entirely, like it came from a place where honey cakes sat cooling on stoves or small plants sat growing in sunlit windows.
Reis directed Mirielle to the large cushioned chairs near the fire.
The shopkeeper went to the front and flipped the sign in the window announcing the store as closed and latched the lock on the door. Then he went about preparing mugs of hot cider.
"Nobody will crowd you here."
"He's talking to you, Dane," Kellan teased.
"I'm standing perfectly still."
"Like a murderer," he mumbled beneath his breath.
Lettie was standing stiff as a board near the door as if afraid the store would ruin her for simply moving through it.
Kellan noticed immediately and walked to her side.
"What's wrong?" he asked gently.
"This store, it's too expensive," she mumbled low so the shopkeeper couldn't hear. She gestured to the price displayed on a silver velvet cloak lined with rabbit fur.
Kellan looked at it more closely, his thumb running over the fur. "It's excellent quality, you can tell by the stitching."
"You can't possibly be serious."
"I'm always serious about stitching," Kellan mused with a half-smile.
"I can't wear this, Kellan."
A dangerous look crossed his face. "You were shivering on the way here."
"We were all shivering."
Reis looked down at Mirielle, now bundled in a wool shawl and two cloaks. "No, it was mostly you."
Lettie looked personally betrayed.
"This is survival, Lettie," Kellan said softly. "This is necessary."
"This is an entire year of our earnings."
Kellan failed to hide his wince. Then his eyes settled on her with gentle seriousness. "You really don't like people spending money on you."
"Because nobody should spend this much money on me.” The words escaped her so naturally the room went quiet afterward. Even the shopkeeper stopped moving.
Kellan’s expression twisted into a frown. “Lettie, that's a terrible sentence.”
"I just...I just don't understand why you would do this."
"Because you're cold," Kellan replied without hesitation.
Lettie looked at the floor, uncomfortably twisting her fingers together.
Kellan stared at her for a moment before reaching for the silver cloak hanging beside them.
He lifted it carefully and stepped behind her, draping the heavy velvet around her shoulders.
The pale silver made her fiery red hair look almost unreal in the firelight.
He paused when she tensed at the fabric being wrapped around her as if she was afraid it would burst into flames for simply touching her.
"Lettie," he said quietly while adjusting the fur near her collar, "I am not trying to buy you."
Lettie finally looked up at him, conflict written plainly over her face.
Kellan realized that life had taught her that kindness came with debt. The thought made him angry.
"I saw you shivering and I hated it." His hazel eyes searched her expression carefully. "So let me buy you some stupidly expensive clothes."