Chapter 40
Chapter Forty
Jack
The winter sun spilled through the frost-touched windows, pale shafts of silver filtering into the room and painting everything in a morning glow. It softened the rough-hewn walls, brushed over the small wooden shelves crowded with trinkets, and lent a quiet magic to the whimsical decor.
A crystalline chandelier dangled from the beams, casting a rainbow-colored spectrum of light throughout the small room. Resting in a clay vase on the windowsill, a sprig of winterberry reminded me of the tall hedges in my mother’s Grove of Shadows blooming during spring.
This place felt less like a dwelling and more like some secret sanctuary tucked away from the world.
Simple, yet perfect.
And in the center of it all, Sylvi lay in my arms.
Her breath rose and fell against my chest, her body curled into me as if it had always belonged there.
Unburdened in sleep, her face was serene, her lips parted slightly, strands of her now pale locks spilling across my arm.
She looked so untouched by the chaos clawing at the world beyond these walls that for a fleeting moment, I let myself believe it was true—that the monsters and shadows had vanished, that nothing existed except this bed, this room, and her.
My fingers itched to touch her, but I didn’t dare wake her.
Instead, I traced the lines of her face with invisible strokes, committing every detail to memory, scribing her onto me like a manuscript, so I could carry her not only in my mind but beneath my skin.
The arch of her brow, the proud set of her cheekbones, the softness at the corners of her mouth…
every inch of her face seemed carved by a master sculptor.
For a heartbeat, I let myself dream of a life outside of crowns and politics.
Of the two of us living here in this sanctuary, hidden from courts and wars, sharing days that were nothing more than chopping wood, cooking by the hearth, and lying tangled in each other’s arms at night.
No Frost Queen to answer to. No unseelie betrothal looming like a noose. Just us.
I could almost see it…
Sylvi standing by the door, her hair shining in the sun as she laughed, her smile unguarded, free.
A little girl with her eyes darting past her skirts, racing barefoot into the snow to play with fawns and bunnies.
Our child. A daughter who carried her light, her fire.
My chest ached with the impossible sweetness of the vision, a pain so sharp it felt like it might cut me open.
The ache curdled when Sylvi stirred, lashes fluttering as her eyes blinked awake slowly, silver light catching in their depths.
I couldn’t look away. Gods, she was beautiful.
So beautiful it hurt. And it did hurt, this love.
It twisted in me like something monstrous, too big for my chest, too wild to be contained.
Loving her was like carrying fire in my veins and ice in my bones at once. It consumed, devoured.
And every ounce of devotion came laced with venom, with the terror of losing her.
That fear stirred now, coiling through my veins like inky poison. Because even here, in this fleeting peace, the memory of the nightmare clung to me like frostbite.
I had seen her die.
There had been war, and we’d been fighting on opposite sides.
And in the end, Sylvi had fallen, lifeless in my arms, her blood soaking my hands.
I’d felt the finality of it, the void where her heartbeat should have been.
The hollowness of no longer feeling the tug of our connection.
That image had imprinted itself so deeply in my mind that I knew it would never leave me.
It hadn’t been only a nightmare, I knew that in my bones.
It was a vision, like the one the crone had shown me. A glimpse of a possible future.
I pulled Sylvi closer, swearing with my whole heart that I would do anything to stop that future. To tear that thread of fate from the fabric of life itself. Even if I had to face the gods; even if I had to dive into the pits of Hel and kill Náldrún himself before he could dare reach for her soul.
“Jack?” Her voice was soft, husky with sleep, and when she smiled up at me, it was as if the nightmare evaporated.
Skadi…how many more mornings like this will you grant me?
The thought cut into me like a rusted dagger.
I didn’t trust the gods, not after the vision the crone had shown me.
Not after the nightmare that left her bleeding out in my arms. My body still trembled from it, every nerve bracing against a phantom loss that hadn’t happened but felt real enough to unmake me.
I wanted to tell her. To confess the horror of what I’d seen. But what good would it do, burdening her with it? She carried enough already.
“Jack?” she said again, her head lifting slightly, brow furrowing as if she could sense the storm still clawing through me. Her fingers brushed my jaw.
“You’re awake,” I breathed, the words breaking out of me more desperately than I intended.
The corners of her eyes crinkled with amusement. “How very observant of you.”
I closed mine briefly, swallowing the tightness in my throat. “I was enjoying the peace of watching you sleep, that’s all.”
“Are you saying you prefer me when I’m not talking?”
I gently pinched the side by her ribs, forcing a squeal from her lips. “You know I didn’t mean it like that.”
She only laughed, and the sound was so intoxicating I pounced on her, pinning her under me as I tickled her bare neck with my prickly jaw.
Heavens help me, her scent was so raw, so feminine, it stirred the animal inside me, that beast that had been wanting—needing—to consume her.
Her laughter bounded louder when my mouth found her throat, the delicate skin of her neck pebbling beneath my lips.
She arched against me, her body all taut lines and soft curves, and I realized with surprise how much stronger she felt. Harder muscle beneath silken skin. My hands slid down her waist, gripping the flare of her hips, and the sound that spilled from her throat was half gasp, half moan.
Fuck. She felt it, too…this thirst, this hunger roaring between us. Her body writhed beneath mine, answering every touch with a desperate need that mirrored my own.
Unable to hold back any longer, I kissed her, and it wasn’t gentle.
It was fire devouring tinder; it was desire with no restraint.
Her lips parted against mine, and the taste of her tongue made my blood sing.
I deepened the kiss, and her body molded to mine, her fingers tangling in my hair as if she’d never let me go.
Frostfire erupted in my veins, and that invisible thread tying me to her yanked and yanked harder, demanding with an impossible force that I end the pain of not making her mine, of not claiming her like I should have long ago.
My hand found the hem of her gown and slipped beneath, tracing the line of her thigh.
Fucking Hel. I couldn’t help the snarling moan that rumbled in my throat. Her velvet-soft skin burned against my palm. She shuddered, arching even more into me, her breathy moans breaking against my mouth.
“Jack,” she gasped, the sound more pleasure than protest, but her hands pressed to my chest. Her wild gaze locked onto mine. “Wait.”
I froze, panting, my blood still thundering in my ears. “Syl—”
“Don’t you have questions?” she whispered, voice trembling.
I blinked, almost dazed by the need thrumming through me. “Questions?”
“About what happened yesterday.” Her words tumbled out between uneven breaths. “The attack. About how you almost died from a magically infected wound.”
I kissed her again, fierce, demanding, swallowing her words into the heat between us. When I pulled back, my lips hovered over hers. “All I want right now is you.”
Her chest heaved, her lips brushing against mine. “Don’t you want to know who almost killed you? Don’t you want to know where we are… Why you didn’t die?”
Frustration coiled inside me, a growl rumbling deep in my chest. I pressed my forehead to hers, needing her too much to let her go. “After the vision I had last night, that nightmare…” My voice broke, and I kissed her again, slower this time, but with a pain so sharp it sliced up my heart.
“This moment, here with you,” I went on, “feels like a dream I never want to wake up from. And I don’t want to waste a single second of it talking about things that will only invite the shadows that tried to tear us apart.”
Her eyes softened. “What did you see in that vision?”
I shook my head, refusing to relive it. “Just let me erase those images,” I rasped, brushing my thumb across her lips. “I need to replace them with this. With your kiss.”
She cupped my cheek, grounding me even as desire still clawed at us. “And you will. But not like this. Not yet.”
I searched her eyes, dying a little inside. “Why not?”
“Because there are truths you need to hear before we go any further,” she whispered, her voice breaking as if she wanted this as badly as I did, and it hurt to deny us this moment.
Her words stunned me in place, and it was enough to snuff out the fire scorching my veins. “What truths?” I asked, my voice hoarse, barely above a whisper.
Sylvi rolled out from under me, the bed creaking as she sat up on the edge of the mattress, her silken, raven hair tumbling down her back in waves, kissing her waist. She wrapped her arms around herself as if trying to keep herself from falling apart.
“You were right, Jack,” she said, trembling. “You were right about everything.”
A chill coiled through me, and I swung my legs off the mattress and moved to her side. “What are you talking about?”
She turned around to face me, her eyes glistening. “About the magic. The shifters. It’s all true. Everything you discovered in the archives. What you’ve read about in secret all these years. All the things you told me that I didn’t want to hear…that I refused to believe. It’s all true.”