Chapter 19 #2
We were all Skadgardians. Harsh winters weren’t new to us, but the chill sinking into our bones tonight felt unnatural, as though something dark and restless hid in the mist. Judging by the murmurs threading through the camp, I wasn’t the only one sensing it.
I found a spot near Sascha and Ingrid, Jack’s other attendant, a quiet girl with a soft voice and dark curls.
Sascha looked up as I sat, her long-lashed brown eyes wide and dewy, reminding me of a fawn. “His wounds are closing faster than I expected,” she said, wafting a curl of smoke from her face. “Still tender, but the inflammation has gone down dramatically.”
“Thank the gods,” I said, though my voice felt distant. My gaze caught on the waves of midnight-colored hair cascading over Sascha’s shoulders—so like my own. And just like that, Jack’s voice stirred in my mind…
I miss it…your hair unbound.
The memory of his voice pulsed deep in my core, humming his name. Gods, it was like his thumb had brushed the corner of my mouth all over again. I exhaled slowly, grounding myself before my body betrayed the thoughts I wasn’t ready to speak aloud.
Ingrid smiled faintly. “He’s resting now. I brought him food, but he refused to eat.”
I shook my head. “Of course he did.” It was classic Jack. He always claimed I was the terrible patient. But in truth, he was far worse. And not being the one tending to him and forcing him to eat hurt more than I expected.
Blasted snowdrifts. I really should check on him.
Just then, Ravin emerged from the shadows like mischief wrapped in fur, a wide wooden tray balanced in his hands. It was laden with fire-warmed bread pockets and skewers of roasted venison and carrots glistening with herb butter. Gods, had the queen sent her royal chef, too?
He crouched beside us, wearing his legendary smirk like a dagger dressed in diamonds—sharp, glittering, and designed to disarm. Sascha and Ingrid didn’t stand a chance.
“Well now,” he said, placing the tray between us, “I must’ve stumbled into the goddess-circle.”
Ingrid’s eyes flashed in surprise, as if she’d never been offered a compliment by a male before.
Sascha flushed, brushing a lock of hair behind her pointy ear. “You flatter too easily, my lord.”
“Only when it’s deserved,” Ravin replied, his voice as smooth as warmed honey.
“But in your case, I may have to compose an ode—something with moonlight, firelight, and words I can’t pronounce.
And please…call me Ravin. ‘My lord’ makes me sound like I should be discussing grain taxes with the queen’s gray-bearded council. ”
Sascha giggled, her cheeks tinged pink, and I had to look away before I gagged. He was unbearable, but gods, he was good at it.
“You’re insufferable,” I muttered, though I felt the corner of my mouth tilt up despite myself.
“Only to those immune to my magic,” he replied, tossing me a skewer and a warm bread pocket. “Eat before your stomach growls loud enough to summon frostwraiths.”
I laughed so loud my belly cramped. When Ravin turned on the charm, it was like watching a bard spin music from air. He was roguishly handsome, wickedly clever, and by all accounts, according to both palace maids and a few highborn lords, a god beneath the sheets.
Unfortunately for him, I’d known him far too long. Like a brother. A ridiculously attractive, vain, charming brother I had no desire to imagine in bed with anyone.
The food was better than expected. The bread warm, crusted with butter and just enough salt. The venison was spiced with juniper and kissed by smoke. But even as I chewed, my eyes wandered—always to the pavilion, always to him.
I hadn’t seen Jack properly since we arrived.
I’d caught glimpses: spied him dismounting Draumskelmir, talking to Varik about the camp’s formation.
That had been the moment I’d let my pride get the better of me and stormed off to patrol alone.
I’d told myself it was about securing the perimeter.
But in truth? I couldn’t stand the thought of being near him and feeling small.
Now, with the edges of my anger softened, all I wanted was to be near him again. But the fear remained… Had I become someone he pitied instead of trusted?
I stood and brushed crumbs from my cloak. “I’m going to find something to drink.”
Ravin didn’t stop me. He just raised an eyebrow at me before he leaned closer to Sascha and whispered something that made her laugh again, all dewy-eyed and dreamy.
I made my way to the table near the side fire, where a few flagons of mead and spiced ale were set out. A tin cup rested in a shallow bowl of snow, the metal cool against my fingers as I reached for it.
Just then, something brushed against my boot. A snow rabbit stared up at me with ears pricked and twitching.
Except…it wasn’t a snow rabbit. Not really.
Its fur shimmered faintly, almost translucent, and its eyes…those glacial, soul-cutting eyes, were unmistakable.
Esmir.
A perfect replica of the first creature Jack had conjured for me in the palace maze. Only now, it was flawless. So detailed it looked truly alive, from the twitch of its nose to the faint rise and fall of its tiny chest.
I knelt and scooped it up, and its little paws curled into the edge of my cloak like it had chosen me all over again.
“You sneaky devil,” I whispered, smiling down into its beady blue gaze. And I knew Jack could see me through it—hear me, feel me.
The warmth that bloomed in my chest unraveled every knot. That small, stubborn voice of doubt cracked like thawing ice. I didn’t need words. I didn’t need reassurances; I just needed to follow the pull.
Esmir leapt from my arms, landing with a soft pluff on the snow. It darted toward the lake’s edge. Then it stopped and waited.
I narrowed my eyes. “What are you up to, Son of Ice?”
It scurried and I followed, but just as I rounded the edge of the pavilion, the wind shifted and the scent of roasted chestnuts curled through the air.
Sitting inside a small iron pot, roasted chestnuts with their skins split and wrapped in leaves glistened with honey glaze.
His favorite.
He’d once told me he loved them because they reminded him of the Hrímblót festival. He’d said the scent always brought him back to that night, the first time we met, my hair tangled with snow as I’d stumbled into the heart of the maze.
Scooping a hearty portion of the chestnuts into a small clay bowl, I brought my peace offering with me, hoping the treat would lift his spirits.
Esmir guided me further back behind the pavilion, to where Jack sat alone on the ground on top of a fur blanket beside a small campfire of his own, his back to me, staring out into the lake.
His armor was off, and he wasn’t even wearing a cloak.
The only barrier he wore against the cold was a loose-fitting linen shirt that billowed in the chilled breeze and a pair of dark trousers, plus his boots.
Esmir had already returned to his side, curling at his feet like it had never left, then it met my eyes before disintegrating back into its natural form. “Sit with me, elskan mín,” Jack said, voice soft and smooth, eyes still fixed on the lake. “I’ve missed you.”