The Winter King
Page 104
“I’ll take care of it.” Wynter turned his attention back to the map of Wintercraig spread out on the table before him. The fight he’d had earlier with Valik was over delays with the final preparations at the scouting outposts. Wynter had expected all the outposts to be ready, fully manned, and running drills of the invasion-alert system, but some were weeks behind schedule, and his spies were reporting activity in the Calbernan armada. “Valik, whether they’re ready or not, we need to check these defenses.” He indicated the scouting outposts and forts along the west coast. “How long will it take you to pack?”
“An hour.”
“Good. Then we leave in two.”
“Wyn . . .” Disapproval iced Galacia’s voice.
“I said I’d take care of it, and I will,” Wynter snapped. “But there’s a war headed our way, and the defense of the kingdom comes first.” He took a breath and turned back to Valik. “Send word to Ofanklettur.” He pointed to the southernmost scouting outpost on the western coast. “They are to light the signal fire at noon in two days’ time. We ride to Frostvatn by way of the new scout towers.” He traced a path from the center of Wintercraig’s western coast northward to the isolated fort at the edge of the glacier fields. “I want to see for myself how much they’re lacking and how long it takes for the signal to reach from the south to the north.”
“Consider it done, my king.” Valik marched out of the room.
When he was gone, Wynter closed his eyes and rotated his head to loosen the tension in his neck. He was rewarded with popping sounds, but the tension was still there. And so was Galacia, with her frosty disapproval. Wyn sighed.
“When I return, I’ll see to my wife and put the gossip to rest. You have my word.”
“I expect you to honor it.”
“I always do.”
Galacia laid a hand on his shoulder and kept it there even when he flinched. “Wyn, give her a chance. I didn’t trust her brother, but she seems an honest sort. You might just have married the best one in the kingdom.”
His mouth twisted. “That’s not saying much.”
“I like her more than most in your court, too.”
“That’s not saying much either. You’ve never had much use for nobles of any stripe.”
“Don’t be difficult. You know what I mean. I know Valik thinks she’s a spy, but I’ve seen no sign of treachery in her. Get to know her. Gods willing, she’ll be the mother of your children. You’re capable of great love, great kindness. Let her see that.”
He took her hand off his shoulder and held it, shaking his head sadly. She didn’t understand. She still thought he was the Wynter she’d always known. “I’m not that man anymore, Laci. That man died when the Prince of Summerlea put an arrow in my brother’s throat.”
“I don’t believe that. If it were true, Rorjak would have won long ago.”
“He is winning.” For the first time, he admitted aloud what he had long suspected. “I can feel him now, there in the back of my mind, waiting. Before this year is out, you’ll have to put those spears in the temple to use.”
Her brows drew together over troubled eyes. “All the more reason for you to have gone to your wife the instant you could. A child is your best hope of thawing the Ice Heart.”
“Perhaps you should have thought about that before telling me to stay away from her.” She looked so genuinely contrite, he felt guilty for the jab. “I’m sorry. I know you were doing what you thought was best. Besides, I doubt a few weeks would make a difference. I think it may be too late for me, even if there is a child.”
“Don’t say that.” Her fingers clenched tightly around his. “Don’t give up hope. And don’t you dare give up without a fight. We need you, Wyn.”
He bent his head and kissed her cheek. He didn’t have to bend far; she was almost as tall as he was. “You’re a good friend, Laci.” He pulled back to give her a crooked smile. “Meddlesome, but a good friend all the same. Now, go on. I still have work to do before I leave.”
After Galacia left, Wynter regarded the map of Wintercraig’s defenses in troubled silence. His people were stretched too thin. The war with Summerlea had cost his kingdom dearly both in lost lives and injuries. With so many of the men at war, most industries in the Craig had struggled by with fewer hands to do the work, and even now were far from prewar production. He’d left half his army back in Vera Sola with Leirik to quell any possible uprisings, and that decision—though necessary—left Wintercraig even more vulnerable. When the armada came, Wynter and his folk would be facing the fight of their lives.
He walked back to the window and stepped out onto the balcony. Drifting snow brushed across his face and caught in the unbound strands of his hair. His gaze scanned the courtyard and battlements, looking for the slight figure he’d seen earlier, before his shouting match with Valik. And there she was, his wife, walking the outer wall, her little shadow, the orphan boy, close on her heels.
She’d already been riding today, but her outing had been cut short because of the storm clouds moving south over the Craig. The snows had come early this year, and the feel of those clouds promised at least another foot of snow before nightfall.
Wynter’s chest expanded as he breathed the cold, bracing air deep into his lungs. As if sensing his presence from the other side of the courtyard, Khamsin turned. He knew the instant their eyes met: awareness jolted through him like one of her storm-spawned lightning bolts. His hands clenched the balustrade so tightly he feared he might grind the stone into powder.
“An hour.”
“Good. Then we leave in two.”
“Wyn . . .” Disapproval iced Galacia’s voice.
“I said I’d take care of it, and I will,” Wynter snapped. “But there’s a war headed our way, and the defense of the kingdom comes first.” He took a breath and turned back to Valik. “Send word to Ofanklettur.” He pointed to the southernmost scouting outpost on the western coast. “They are to light the signal fire at noon in two days’ time. We ride to Frostvatn by way of the new scout towers.” He traced a path from the center of Wintercraig’s western coast northward to the isolated fort at the edge of the glacier fields. “I want to see for myself how much they’re lacking and how long it takes for the signal to reach from the south to the north.”
“Consider it done, my king.” Valik marched out of the room.
When he was gone, Wynter closed his eyes and rotated his head to loosen the tension in his neck. He was rewarded with popping sounds, but the tension was still there. And so was Galacia, with her frosty disapproval. Wyn sighed.
“When I return, I’ll see to my wife and put the gossip to rest. You have my word.”
“I expect you to honor it.”
“I always do.”
Galacia laid a hand on his shoulder and kept it there even when he flinched. “Wyn, give her a chance. I didn’t trust her brother, but she seems an honest sort. You might just have married the best one in the kingdom.”
His mouth twisted. “That’s not saying much.”
“I like her more than most in your court, too.”
“That’s not saying much either. You’ve never had much use for nobles of any stripe.”
“Don’t be difficult. You know what I mean. I know Valik thinks she’s a spy, but I’ve seen no sign of treachery in her. Get to know her. Gods willing, she’ll be the mother of your children. You’re capable of great love, great kindness. Let her see that.”
He took her hand off his shoulder and held it, shaking his head sadly. She didn’t understand. She still thought he was the Wynter she’d always known. “I’m not that man anymore, Laci. That man died when the Prince of Summerlea put an arrow in my brother’s throat.”
“I don’t believe that. If it were true, Rorjak would have won long ago.”
“He is winning.” For the first time, he admitted aloud what he had long suspected. “I can feel him now, there in the back of my mind, waiting. Before this year is out, you’ll have to put those spears in the temple to use.”
Her brows drew together over troubled eyes. “All the more reason for you to have gone to your wife the instant you could. A child is your best hope of thawing the Ice Heart.”
“Perhaps you should have thought about that before telling me to stay away from her.” She looked so genuinely contrite, he felt guilty for the jab. “I’m sorry. I know you were doing what you thought was best. Besides, I doubt a few weeks would make a difference. I think it may be too late for me, even if there is a child.”
“Don’t say that.” Her fingers clenched tightly around his. “Don’t give up hope. And don’t you dare give up without a fight. We need you, Wyn.”
He bent his head and kissed her cheek. He didn’t have to bend far; she was almost as tall as he was. “You’re a good friend, Laci.” He pulled back to give her a crooked smile. “Meddlesome, but a good friend all the same. Now, go on. I still have work to do before I leave.”
After Galacia left, Wynter regarded the map of Wintercraig’s defenses in troubled silence. His people were stretched too thin. The war with Summerlea had cost his kingdom dearly both in lost lives and injuries. With so many of the men at war, most industries in the Craig had struggled by with fewer hands to do the work, and even now were far from prewar production. He’d left half his army back in Vera Sola with Leirik to quell any possible uprisings, and that decision—though necessary—left Wintercraig even more vulnerable. When the armada came, Wynter and his folk would be facing the fight of their lives.
He walked back to the window and stepped out onto the balcony. Drifting snow brushed across his face and caught in the unbound strands of his hair. His gaze scanned the courtyard and battlements, looking for the slight figure he’d seen earlier, before his shouting match with Valik. And there she was, his wife, walking the outer wall, her little shadow, the orphan boy, close on her heels.
She’d already been riding today, but her outing had been cut short because of the storm clouds moving south over the Craig. The snows had come early this year, and the feel of those clouds promised at least another foot of snow before nightfall.
Wynter’s chest expanded as he breathed the cold, bracing air deep into his lungs. As if sensing his presence from the other side of the courtyard, Khamsin turned. He knew the instant their eyes met: awareness jolted through him like one of her storm-spawned lightning bolts. His hands clenched the balustrade so tightly he feared he might grind the stone into powder.
