Chapter 28 Katria #2
He moved closer to the mural. “The direstag,” he said. “They’re Winter’s pride. Majestic. Merciless. They’ll let you admire them right up until they decide you’ve seen enough.”
I followed the curve of antlers etched in ice. “It looks almost gentle.”
“Looks can lie. The Summer creatures don’t bother pretending. They burn too bright to hide their hunger.” He paused, glancing down at me. “Bit like people, really.”
“Are you comparing yourself to a beast?”
“Only the beautiful ones.”
I shook my head, but my pulse betrayed me. He caught it—of course he did—and his smile softened. Not teasing now. Curious. Interested.
He brushed a flake of frost from my sleeve, fingers grazing the inside of my wrist. A spark leapt under my skin, small but undeniable.
“You’re cold,” he murmured.
Gesturing around vaguely, I said, “I live in a palace made of ice.”
He tilted his head. “Still … you shouldn’t be.”
The words landed too gently to be scolding. They sounded like concern—or maybe invitation. I stepped back half a breath, needing space I didn’t actually want.
Kael only smiled wider, as if my retreat amused him. He turned toward the next panel, one carved with coiled shapes beneath waves of frost.
“Frostserpents,” he said. “Born from blizzards. They sing before they strike.”
“That’s … comforting.”
“They rarely miss.”
“And the creatures of Summer?” I asked, hoping my voice didn’t shake.
“Louder. Hotter. Phoenix hawks, dusk-lions, fire-drakes. They hunt with noise instead of stealth. When they love, it’s the same way.”
He looked back at me as he said it, and I forgot whatever reply I’d meant to give.
A moment stretched between us, soft and bright as the light around us. He reached up, brushing a strand of hair from my cheek; his knuckles grazed my skin, and the warmth there felt indecent in this frozen place.
“You’d like Summer,” he said quietly. “They’d love your fire.”
“I’ve had enough of fire for one lifetime.”
He smiled, half-sad, half-mischief. “Then you haven’t met the right kind.”
My heartbeat stuttered. I wanted to move, to laugh, to do anything that would make the air less heavy, but the words wouldn’t come. Even the frostlight seemed to wait.
Then Fenrir’s nails clicked against the marble somewhere down the corridor, a sharp echo that made both of us look away.
Kael exhaled first, the sound a soft chuckle. “Saved by your hound again.”
“Lucky me.”
He stepped back, bowing slightly in mock defeat. “Another time, then. When the frost’s not watching.”
He left before I could answer, leaving behind a faint trace of warmth on my skin and the scent of sunlight where none should have been.
I should have left the gallery after he did.That would’ve been the sensible thing—to put space between myself and … whatever this was.
But sense had never done me much good in this place.
I wandered to the next archway instead, tracing the ice-carved friezes that wound along the ceiling. Each one told a story: hunts, coronations, battles so old the names had worn away. Only the creatures endured—the things that belonged to Winter before the Courts ever did.
Kael’s voice returned before I heard his footsteps.
“You forgot your gloves,” he said. I turned to find him leaning against the column, my gloves dangling from one hand. “Found these by the door. You really shouldn’t leave pieces of yourself lying around in Winter.”
“You brought them all the way back for me?”
He shrugged. “It was either that or let Kaelith find them and pretend not to notice.”
“I’m sure he wouldn’t care.”
“Then you don’t know him half as well as you think.”
Something in his tone changed—the playful edge softening to something quieter. I didn’t press. He stepped closer instead, holding the gloves out. When I reached for them, his fingers brushed mine again. The touch was brief but deliberate, a single moment of heat in a world built to steal it away.
“I used to hate Winter,” he said. “The air here always feels like it’s waiting for someone to stop breathing first.”
I wasn’t sure what to say. He didn’t seem to expect an answer. He turned toward the mural again, tracing the frostline with one finger. “In Summer, the creatures don’t wait. They live fast, loud. They love in fire and die in glory. Everything burns.”
“And you miss that?”
He looked over his shoulder at me, sunlight catching the faint gold in his eyes. “Sometimes I think I was made for it.” A pause. “Other times, I wonder if it’s what nearly unmade me.”
I studied him, the sharp edges of beauty dulled by something weary beneath. It was the first time I’d seen him without armor made of laughter. “Why ever come here, then?”
“Someone has to make sure Winter remembers how to thaw.”
The way he said it made my chest tighten. He smiled again but softer now. “Besides, you’re here. Makes it almost bearable.”
“That’s a dangerous thing to say.”
“Only if it’s true.”
The frostlight flickered once, the shadows shifting closer. He reached past me to adjust a lantern hook on the wall, his sleeve brushing mine and the heat of him chasing away the cold that had settled in my bones since Kaelith’s silence began.
I stepped back but not fast enough. The nearness was dizzying. The scent of him—cedar and sunlight and something wild—filled the air.
“You really don’t fear much, do you?” I asked.
He smiled without turning. “Fear’s wasted on things you can’t keep.”
“Like?”
“Seasons. Mortals. Brothers.”
That last word landed between us like a dropped blade. I looked away. “You two don’t seem close.”
“Oh, we’re close enough,” he said lightly. “That’s the problem.”
He faced me again, the smile back but thinner. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m not here to talk about him.”
“What are you here for, then?”
His gaze flicked down to my mouth, then back to my eyes. “I’m still deciding.”
My breath caught before I could stop it.
He paused at another mural, this one showing a vast hunt: Winter riders chasing what looked like a storm given form. The ice rippled with light when he touched it.
“They say these beasts once guarded the Veil between worlds,” he said. “Now they’re hunted for sport.”
“By the Winter Court?”
He nodded. “It’s what happens to everything strong enough to be feared.”
The words hung heavy between us. I thought of myself then, of what the villagers had said back home—that I was dangerous simply because I was different.
Kael must have seen something in my face, because his tone softened. “You understand that, don’t you?”
I met his gaze. “Too well.”
When I glanced back, he was watching me—not with mockery, not even flirtation, but something steadier. Warmer. Like he’d made up his mind about something and was waiting for me to catch up.
“Beasts of Winter hide,” he said softly. “The ones from Summer chase. I’ll let you guess which kind I am.”
I wasn’t sure how to answer, caught somewhere between curiosity and hesitation. But in the end, I chose silence. It was, after all, the safest form of protection in this Court.
Then, mercifully, a bell rang somewhere deep in the Hold. Kael stepped back, the tension snapping like ice underfoot.
He gave a low, rueful laugh. “Saved again. Seems the castle’s on your side.”
“I’m starting to think it likes you better.”
“I doubt that. It’s far too loyal to its heir.”
He started toward the archway then paused. “Careful, Katria. Don’t let anyone in Winter hear you speak too kindly of fire.”
And then he was gone. Only the faint warmth on the stone where he’d stood and my faithless heart proved he’d ever been there at all.