The Winter King
Page 67
“Here we are, Your Grace,” Vinca announced. “These are your chambers.”
Khamsin stepped inside and despite her stern admonitions to think like a man and a warrior-king, she couldn’t help catching her breath in a dazzled, purely feminine reaction to the spacious elegance spread out before her. Thick furs and brightly woven carpets were scattered liberally across gleaming wooden floors. Furniture of delicate, gilded metalwork and stone sat harmoniously alongside bureaus of rich, inlaid woods and groupings of armchairs and divans. Silk brocade drapes framed a wall of windows that opened to a wide balcony.
A blur of dark, rich color in the sea of glittering winter shades caught her stunned gaze, and she turned towards it and saw Bella.
“Bella!” she exclaimed eagerly. Though the girl was little more than a stranger assigned to serve her, she was from Summerlea, a face from home. They were foreigners together in this cold, icy land, and that forged a unique bond between them. Khamsin almost flung her arms around the little maid before she caught herself. She stifled the urge to give Bella an exuberant hug and settled for a more appropriate, but fervent, clasp of hands. “I’m glad to see you.”
“Not half so glad as I am to see you, Your Highness,” Bella said. “They made me leave and wouldn’t let me go back. I didn’t even know if you’d lived or died until yesterday, when the scouts rode in to say the Winter King was coming.”
“It’s all right, Bella.” She patted the maid’s hand. “As you can see, I’m perfectly fit.”
“Ahem.” The slight clearing of Vinca’s throat made Khamsin turn. “Your bedroom, Your Grace, is through those doors on the left, as is a private parlor, bath, and dressing room.” The Mistress of Servants strode towards the wall of windows and threw open the leaded-glass doors to let in a swirl of crisp air. “From here, you have an excellent view of the mountains, Gildenheim’s western gardens, and the river valley. The king has ordered Mistress Narsk to provide your new wardrobe more suited to our climate.”
“I don’t need new clothes. The ones I have are perfectly fine.” The perfumes of her sisters still clung to their gowns. Kham didn’t want to lose that attachment to home.
“You’ll need something more suited to our weather, ma’am. Winter will soon be upon us, and you’ll need much warmer clothes. King’s orders.”
“I see. Well, then it seems I will be expanding my wardrobe.” Kham gave a tight smile. She had no intention of giving up her sisters’ things any more than she’d been willing to abandon her mother’s things without a fight. This Mistress Narsk could make all the clothes she liked, but that didn’t mean Kham had to wear them. Except for outer garments and perhaps a few underclothes more suited to this icy clime, Kham was not going to change who she was or how she dressed.
“Very good, ma’am. Mistress Narsk and her seamstresses will be here at twelve to take your measurements. I’ll have a small lunch brought up. Meanwhile, if you need anything, just give this cord a tug. It will ring down to the servants’ quarters, and someone will answer your summons.”
“Thank you, Vinca.”
The woman curtsied. “I’ll leave you to get settled.”
“Vinca?”
The Mistress of Servants paused. “Ma’am?”
“Who will be giving me a tour of the palace, and when can I expect them?”
Surprise flashed briefly across Vinca’s face before being suppressed behind a calm mask. “The arrangements have not yet been made.”
“Make them, please,” Khamsin said. “For tomorrow, if at all possible. I don’t want to feel like a stranger in my new home.” Her voice was firm, her gaze steady.
Vinca bobbed another curtsy. “Of course, Your Grace. I’ll see to it immediately.”
When she left, Bella made a beeline for the open balcony doors and started to pull them closed. “Winterfolk!” she grumbled. “Opening windows every chance they get, even when the air’s cold enough to freeze the blood in a body’s veins.”
“No, Bella, leave it for now. I’ve gotten used to the fresh air.”
Bella stopped, looked a little outraged, then tugged her cloak more snugly about her throat and moved away from the open doors.
Only then did Khamsin realize the girl was wrapped in so many layers she resembled a stuffed Harvest goose. Kham had been so glad to see a familiar face, she hadn’t noticed anything else. “I’m sorry. Are you cold? Close the doors then, and fuel the fire.”
She watched Bella add logs to the already-burning fire in the hearth, then hold her hands to the heat emanating from the flames and huddle close.
“Does it feel very cold to you?” Khamsin asked. “Outside, I mean.”
“As a frost witch’s teat,” Bella muttered.
Now that was surpassingly strange. Khamsin suddenly realized she hadn’t felt the cold in days. Not really. Not since waking in Wynter’s tent after her illness. She’d put it down to her Summerlea blood, but Bella was a Summerlander, too, and she was obviously suffering. Was it her magic, then? The heat of her weathergifts?
Curious, she cracked open the leaded-glass door and stepped out onto the balcony. A cold wind caught her full in the face and tore the pins from her hair, sending curls spiraling madly about. She knew it was cold. She could feel the chill on her skin, see it in the frosty mist of her exhale before the wind whipped it away, but it wasn’t unbearable. Bracing, yes, but no more than that. Nothing like the cold that had penetrated her bones that day when Wynter had caught her with his Ice Gaze. What did that mean? Assuming it meant anything at all.
Khamsin stepped inside and despite her stern admonitions to think like a man and a warrior-king, she couldn’t help catching her breath in a dazzled, purely feminine reaction to the spacious elegance spread out before her. Thick furs and brightly woven carpets were scattered liberally across gleaming wooden floors. Furniture of delicate, gilded metalwork and stone sat harmoniously alongside bureaus of rich, inlaid woods and groupings of armchairs and divans. Silk brocade drapes framed a wall of windows that opened to a wide balcony.
A blur of dark, rich color in the sea of glittering winter shades caught her stunned gaze, and she turned towards it and saw Bella.
“Bella!” she exclaimed eagerly. Though the girl was little more than a stranger assigned to serve her, she was from Summerlea, a face from home. They were foreigners together in this cold, icy land, and that forged a unique bond between them. Khamsin almost flung her arms around the little maid before she caught herself. She stifled the urge to give Bella an exuberant hug and settled for a more appropriate, but fervent, clasp of hands. “I’m glad to see you.”
“Not half so glad as I am to see you, Your Highness,” Bella said. “They made me leave and wouldn’t let me go back. I didn’t even know if you’d lived or died until yesterday, when the scouts rode in to say the Winter King was coming.”
“It’s all right, Bella.” She patted the maid’s hand. “As you can see, I’m perfectly fit.”
“Ahem.” The slight clearing of Vinca’s throat made Khamsin turn. “Your bedroom, Your Grace, is through those doors on the left, as is a private parlor, bath, and dressing room.” The Mistress of Servants strode towards the wall of windows and threw open the leaded-glass doors to let in a swirl of crisp air. “From here, you have an excellent view of the mountains, Gildenheim’s western gardens, and the river valley. The king has ordered Mistress Narsk to provide your new wardrobe more suited to our climate.”
“I don’t need new clothes. The ones I have are perfectly fine.” The perfumes of her sisters still clung to their gowns. Kham didn’t want to lose that attachment to home.
“You’ll need something more suited to our weather, ma’am. Winter will soon be upon us, and you’ll need much warmer clothes. King’s orders.”
“I see. Well, then it seems I will be expanding my wardrobe.” Kham gave a tight smile. She had no intention of giving up her sisters’ things any more than she’d been willing to abandon her mother’s things without a fight. This Mistress Narsk could make all the clothes she liked, but that didn’t mean Kham had to wear them. Except for outer garments and perhaps a few underclothes more suited to this icy clime, Kham was not going to change who she was or how she dressed.
“Very good, ma’am. Mistress Narsk and her seamstresses will be here at twelve to take your measurements. I’ll have a small lunch brought up. Meanwhile, if you need anything, just give this cord a tug. It will ring down to the servants’ quarters, and someone will answer your summons.”
“Thank you, Vinca.”
The woman curtsied. “I’ll leave you to get settled.”
“Vinca?”
The Mistress of Servants paused. “Ma’am?”
“Who will be giving me a tour of the palace, and when can I expect them?”
Surprise flashed briefly across Vinca’s face before being suppressed behind a calm mask. “The arrangements have not yet been made.”
“Make them, please,” Khamsin said. “For tomorrow, if at all possible. I don’t want to feel like a stranger in my new home.” Her voice was firm, her gaze steady.
Vinca bobbed another curtsy. “Of course, Your Grace. I’ll see to it immediately.”
When she left, Bella made a beeline for the open balcony doors and started to pull them closed. “Winterfolk!” she grumbled. “Opening windows every chance they get, even when the air’s cold enough to freeze the blood in a body’s veins.”
“No, Bella, leave it for now. I’ve gotten used to the fresh air.”
Bella stopped, looked a little outraged, then tugged her cloak more snugly about her throat and moved away from the open doors.
Only then did Khamsin realize the girl was wrapped in so many layers she resembled a stuffed Harvest goose. Kham had been so glad to see a familiar face, she hadn’t noticed anything else. “I’m sorry. Are you cold? Close the doors then, and fuel the fire.”
She watched Bella add logs to the already-burning fire in the hearth, then hold her hands to the heat emanating from the flames and huddle close.
“Does it feel very cold to you?” Khamsin asked. “Outside, I mean.”
“As a frost witch’s teat,” Bella muttered.
Now that was surpassingly strange. Khamsin suddenly realized she hadn’t felt the cold in days. Not really. Not since waking in Wynter’s tent after her illness. She’d put it down to her Summerlea blood, but Bella was a Summerlander, too, and she was obviously suffering. Was it her magic, then? The heat of her weathergifts?
Curious, she cracked open the leaded-glass door and stepped out onto the balcony. A cold wind caught her full in the face and tore the pins from her hair, sending curls spiraling madly about. She knew it was cold. She could feel the chill on her skin, see it in the frosty mist of her exhale before the wind whipped it away, but it wasn’t unbearable. Bracing, yes, but no more than that. Nothing like the cold that had penetrated her bones that day when Wynter had caught her with his Ice Gaze. What did that mean? Assuming it meant anything at all.
