The Winter King
Page 181
The more he thought about it, the more likely it seemed that Khamsin had gone with Falcon of her own accord. A deep chill rippled through him, sending tremors shuddering through his body. Wynter sat up and swung his legs over the side of his cot.
Just the thought of Khamsin’s choosing her Falcon over him made the blood in his veins turn to ice. The cold mass of anger and hate in his chest throbbed like a bass drum made from his living skin stretched over a barrel carved from his bones. If she betrayed him . . .
He leapt to his feet. Tension coiled inside him. He clenched his jaw so tight his teeth ached, and his fists so tight the knuckles cracked.
Shake it off, Wyn. Get hold of yourself.
He ducked through the tent flaps. The fire outside was mostly embers now. Except for a handful of White Guard standing watch, the camp was empty, everyone having sought their cots for the night. Overhead, the sky was dark and moonless, the stars shining bright in the clear blackness of the winter night. The forest was silent. Perfectly still. The trees shadowy sentinels standing watch in a star-silvered sea of snow.
Wynter skirted the tent stakes and walked into the dark welcome of the forest.
The night was cold. Even a Winterman might call it bitter. Wyn did not feel it. He just knew that it was so. Cold as snow. Cold as ice.
Cold as death.
His breath did not fog. His feet made no sound as he walked through the powdery snow. No birds in the trees called out as he passed. No creature scurried in the brush.
All around, the moonless dark of the night, the shadows of the forest, the pale silver of the snow enveloped him in still silence. As if he walked alone in a world in which all other life had ceased.
He walked without conscious thought or direction. Putting one foot in front of the other. Breathing in a slow, unhurried fashion.
Gradually, he became aware of something stalking through the trees on either side of him. Furry white shapes, slipping through the silhouetted trees of the forest, their paws as soundless on the snow as his feet. The white wolf on his wrist burned in recognition. The wolves had come to give him escort.
He took comfort from their presence and wished Khamsin had not left. Her absence made him ache, as if some invisible but necessary part of him had stopped working or had gone missing entirely.
When he faced the armies of Calberna and Summerlea, would he find his wife there, on the side of the enemy, taking up arms against him?
His heart wanted to believe she would never betray him after saving his life. His mind, however, kept whispering that he should remember her Summerlea roots, the falseness of her father and brother. Summerlanders weren’t to be trusted.
Whether Khamsin had gone to her brother willingly or not, she was still gone. And he was struggling with the idea that he would die without ever seeing her again, without having the chance to tell her—
A twig snapped to his left, yanking Wyn out of his thoughts.
“Who’s there?” he called. He scanned the forest, looking for movement, but the night was perfectly still and quiet.
“She has betrayed you,” the voice whispered through the trees.
He turned to the right, seeking the source of the voice.
“What you feared has come true.”
Wyn spun around. This time the sound seemed to come from his left.
“You gave her kindness, warmth, friendship she did not deserve. You gave her trust. You made her your queen. And in return, she conspires with the enemy.”
“Reika.” Wyn’s lips flattened. “Show yourself, woman. And silence your poisonous words. Do you think I don’t know how you hate her? How you plotted to kill her during the Great Hunt? You nearly succeeded in killing us both.”
“Is that what she told you? And you believed her?”
Now he could see her, her tall figure shrouded in a hooded cloak, watching from a stand of trees on a rise a hundred yards in front of him.
“You lured her out of the palace. You attacked her and left her wounded and bleeding. You knew the scent of fresh blood would draw the garm to finish off what you started. I’m only alive now because she saved my life. Why would she do that if she meant to play me false?”
“Do you think Valik would have let her take another breath if you had died? Of course she saved you. It was the only way to throw off suspicion until she could attempt another escape.” Reika kept her distance. Each step he took towards her, she glided farther back through black-and-white hardwood trunks. “That’s the same reason I didn’t come to you myself. I knew you would not believe me without proof, so I hid in the forest and waited. I knew she would find a way to escape and go to her brother, and I was right. I followed her to his camp.”
Ice stabbed Wyn’s chest. “You lie.” But even as he protested, a little voice in the back of his mind whispered, Does she? Reika was many things, but not stupid. She wouldn’t make such claims without some sort of proof.
“Ask the wolves if you don’t believe me. She rides now, at the head of her brother’s army. She leads the invaders against you.”
Wynter didn’t want to believe it. Khamsin had risked her life to save him. He remembered the sight of her rushing out, barehanded, to save him from the garm. Why would she do that if she meant to betray him? It made no sense.
And yet the little, niggling doubt was there. The chilly, whispering voice in his mind that warned him Summerlanders were not to be trusted, women were not to be trusted. Khamsin was not to be trusted.
He pushed back hard against the terrible suspicions of betrayal. Khamsin was headstrong, stubborn, and temperamental, but she wasn’t false.
Just the thought of Khamsin’s choosing her Falcon over him made the blood in his veins turn to ice. The cold mass of anger and hate in his chest throbbed like a bass drum made from his living skin stretched over a barrel carved from his bones. If she betrayed him . . .
He leapt to his feet. Tension coiled inside him. He clenched his jaw so tight his teeth ached, and his fists so tight the knuckles cracked.
Shake it off, Wyn. Get hold of yourself.
He ducked through the tent flaps. The fire outside was mostly embers now. Except for a handful of White Guard standing watch, the camp was empty, everyone having sought their cots for the night. Overhead, the sky was dark and moonless, the stars shining bright in the clear blackness of the winter night. The forest was silent. Perfectly still. The trees shadowy sentinels standing watch in a star-silvered sea of snow.
Wynter skirted the tent stakes and walked into the dark welcome of the forest.
The night was cold. Even a Winterman might call it bitter. Wyn did not feel it. He just knew that it was so. Cold as snow. Cold as ice.
Cold as death.
His breath did not fog. His feet made no sound as he walked through the powdery snow. No birds in the trees called out as he passed. No creature scurried in the brush.
All around, the moonless dark of the night, the shadows of the forest, the pale silver of the snow enveloped him in still silence. As if he walked alone in a world in which all other life had ceased.
He walked without conscious thought or direction. Putting one foot in front of the other. Breathing in a slow, unhurried fashion.
Gradually, he became aware of something stalking through the trees on either side of him. Furry white shapes, slipping through the silhouetted trees of the forest, their paws as soundless on the snow as his feet. The white wolf on his wrist burned in recognition. The wolves had come to give him escort.
He took comfort from their presence and wished Khamsin had not left. Her absence made him ache, as if some invisible but necessary part of him had stopped working or had gone missing entirely.
When he faced the armies of Calberna and Summerlea, would he find his wife there, on the side of the enemy, taking up arms against him?
His heart wanted to believe she would never betray him after saving his life. His mind, however, kept whispering that he should remember her Summerlea roots, the falseness of her father and brother. Summerlanders weren’t to be trusted.
Whether Khamsin had gone to her brother willingly or not, she was still gone. And he was struggling with the idea that he would die without ever seeing her again, without having the chance to tell her—
A twig snapped to his left, yanking Wyn out of his thoughts.
“Who’s there?” he called. He scanned the forest, looking for movement, but the night was perfectly still and quiet.
“She has betrayed you,” the voice whispered through the trees.
He turned to the right, seeking the source of the voice.
“What you feared has come true.”
Wyn spun around. This time the sound seemed to come from his left.
“You gave her kindness, warmth, friendship she did not deserve. You gave her trust. You made her your queen. And in return, she conspires with the enemy.”
“Reika.” Wyn’s lips flattened. “Show yourself, woman. And silence your poisonous words. Do you think I don’t know how you hate her? How you plotted to kill her during the Great Hunt? You nearly succeeded in killing us both.”
“Is that what she told you? And you believed her?”
Now he could see her, her tall figure shrouded in a hooded cloak, watching from a stand of trees on a rise a hundred yards in front of him.
“You lured her out of the palace. You attacked her and left her wounded and bleeding. You knew the scent of fresh blood would draw the garm to finish off what you started. I’m only alive now because she saved my life. Why would she do that if she meant to play me false?”
“Do you think Valik would have let her take another breath if you had died? Of course she saved you. It was the only way to throw off suspicion until she could attempt another escape.” Reika kept her distance. Each step he took towards her, she glided farther back through black-and-white hardwood trunks. “That’s the same reason I didn’t come to you myself. I knew you would not believe me without proof, so I hid in the forest and waited. I knew she would find a way to escape and go to her brother, and I was right. I followed her to his camp.”
Ice stabbed Wyn’s chest. “You lie.” But even as he protested, a little voice in the back of his mind whispered, Does she? Reika was many things, but not stupid. She wouldn’t make such claims without some sort of proof.
“Ask the wolves if you don’t believe me. She rides now, at the head of her brother’s army. She leads the invaders against you.”
Wynter didn’t want to believe it. Khamsin had risked her life to save him. He remembered the sight of her rushing out, barehanded, to save him from the garm. Why would she do that if she meant to betray him? It made no sense.
And yet the little, niggling doubt was there. The chilly, whispering voice in his mind that warned him Summerlanders were not to be trusted, women were not to be trusted. Khamsin was not to be trusted.
He pushed back hard against the terrible suspicions of betrayal. Khamsin was headstrong, stubborn, and temperamental, but she wasn’t false.
