The Winter King
Page 100
- Background:
- Text Font:
- Text Size:
- Line Height:
- Line Break Height:
- Frame:
“Reopen all the northern watchtowers and repair the four here that were damaged by last year’s storms. I want a pair of scouts at each tower, to be relieved every forty-five days. And send word to Leirik. At a minimum, I want towers built and manned in these locations.” He tapped a dozen points on Summerlea’s coastlines. “Tell him to move swiftly. Have him muster the locals to aid in the construction.” He glanced up. “What are you waiting for?”
Barsul and the generals filed out of the room, but Valik held back.
Wyn shook his head. “Don’t,” he commanded, hoping to head off his friend’s lecture about the danger Khamsin posed to them all.
“All I’m saying, Wyn, is be careful. Get your heir on her as quick as you can, but don’t let down your guard. You can’t trust what you feel for her. You know you can’t. She’s a powerful weatherwitch, but who knows what other arcane skills she might possess.”
“For the last time, Valik, I’m under no spell.”
“Are you not? I’ve seen the way you are around her, how you can’t take your eyes off her. I’m not the only one who’s noticed it either. Reika says—”
“Enough!” Wyn pinched the bridge of his nose and battled back the sharp edge of his temper. His friend was venturing into the realm of the ridiculous. “Your concern is noted, Valik. Now, please, you have work to attend to, and so do I.” He gestured to the door.
Valik heaved a sigh but bowed and took his leave.
When he was gone, Wynter walked to one of the south-facing tower windows and stared down at the baileys below. A small figure, easily identifiable by her dark hair and the bright Summerlander skirts peeping out beneath her pale coat, stepped out into the courtyard, a smaller white-blond figure beside her. He watched them cross the bailey and disappear into the slate-roofed armory.
“Is Valik right, wife?” he whispered. “Would you betray me to your brother?” He didn’t want to believe it. Everything in him cried out that it couldn’t be true. How could she give him such passion in their marriage bed, then plot against him?
But he’d been betrayed by a woman before. He couldn’t take the chance he would be betrayed again. There was too much at stake.
Wynter turned away from the window. Laci had banned him from Khamsin’s bed to give Khamsin’s womb time to heal from the effects of the poison. He would use the time to distance himself from her entirely. Perhaps, with his eye unclouded by desire, he would see her more clearly.
CHAPTER 16
The Gathering Storm
Khamsin saw even less of Wynter over the next several weeks than she had since arriving in Gildenheim. He canceled the samdar-hald and gildis, spent his days ensconced in meeting after meeting with his councilors, generals, and stewards, and ate his meals in private. The bedchamber adjoining hers stayed silent and dark long past the midnight hour, and the few times she heard him come to bed, she heard him leave again not long after.
Thinking he’d decided to take Reika Villani up on what she so eagerly offered, Khamsin began following him to see where he went at night when the rest of the palace was sleeping. But instead of heading off to meet a mistress, Wynter made his way to the Atrium, the one room in the palace she’d been forbidden to enter. He stayed there for hours—sometimes until morning.
One night, exhausted from spying on her husband, Khamsin dozed off in the adjacent hallway while waiting for him to emerge from the Atrium. She woke sometime later to find herself in his arms, being carried back to her room. She closed her eyes quickly and tried to pretend she was still asleep as he tucked her back into her bed, but he wasn’t fooled.
“Have you followed me enough now to satisfy your curiosity, wife? Or must I set guards at your door to keep you in your bed?”
She gave up the pretense and opened her eyes, scowling up at him. “How long have you known?”
“That you were following me? Since the first night.” He tapped the side of his nose. “I know your scent, wife. I would know it anywhere.”
So much for trying to be stealthy around him. “What are you doing in there?”
“Nothing that concerns you.”
She didn’t believe him. “Are you meeting someone in there?”
“No.”
“So what’s in there? Why can’t anyone else go in? What are you hiding?”
“What’s in there is none of your business. And no one is allowed inside but me because I said so. I am king, and my word is law. That’s why.” He cupped her face gently. His thumb brushed the rose shaped burn on her cheekbone. “And you will make no attempt to gain access to that room. You will not enter it or send anyone else to enter it in your stead. Is that clear?”
She glared at him in mutinous silence.
Her cheek prickled as the hand cupping her face grew cold. “I will have your word, Khamsin. Now.”
“Fine,” she snapped. “I won’t go into the Atrium or send anyone there on my behalf.”
“Good. Now go to sleep. And don’t follow me anymore. You’re supposed to be resting and healing.”
“This is ridiculous. I’m perfectly fine. I heal fast.” What she wanted was him back in her bed and at least some small measure of his attention. She was his wife, after all. But pride wouldn’t let her ask him to stay. It was too much like begging. Khamsin Coruscate had never begged for a thing in her life. She wasn’t about to start now.
Barsul and the generals filed out of the room, but Valik held back.
Wyn shook his head. “Don’t,” he commanded, hoping to head off his friend’s lecture about the danger Khamsin posed to them all.
“All I’m saying, Wyn, is be careful. Get your heir on her as quick as you can, but don’t let down your guard. You can’t trust what you feel for her. You know you can’t. She’s a powerful weatherwitch, but who knows what other arcane skills she might possess.”
“For the last time, Valik, I’m under no spell.”
“Are you not? I’ve seen the way you are around her, how you can’t take your eyes off her. I’m not the only one who’s noticed it either. Reika says—”
“Enough!” Wyn pinched the bridge of his nose and battled back the sharp edge of his temper. His friend was venturing into the realm of the ridiculous. “Your concern is noted, Valik. Now, please, you have work to attend to, and so do I.” He gestured to the door.
Valik heaved a sigh but bowed and took his leave.
When he was gone, Wynter walked to one of the south-facing tower windows and stared down at the baileys below. A small figure, easily identifiable by her dark hair and the bright Summerlander skirts peeping out beneath her pale coat, stepped out into the courtyard, a smaller white-blond figure beside her. He watched them cross the bailey and disappear into the slate-roofed armory.
“Is Valik right, wife?” he whispered. “Would you betray me to your brother?” He didn’t want to believe it. Everything in him cried out that it couldn’t be true. How could she give him such passion in their marriage bed, then plot against him?
But he’d been betrayed by a woman before. He couldn’t take the chance he would be betrayed again. There was too much at stake.
Wynter turned away from the window. Laci had banned him from Khamsin’s bed to give Khamsin’s womb time to heal from the effects of the poison. He would use the time to distance himself from her entirely. Perhaps, with his eye unclouded by desire, he would see her more clearly.
CHAPTER 16
The Gathering Storm
Khamsin saw even less of Wynter over the next several weeks than she had since arriving in Gildenheim. He canceled the samdar-hald and gildis, spent his days ensconced in meeting after meeting with his councilors, generals, and stewards, and ate his meals in private. The bedchamber adjoining hers stayed silent and dark long past the midnight hour, and the few times she heard him come to bed, she heard him leave again not long after.
Thinking he’d decided to take Reika Villani up on what she so eagerly offered, Khamsin began following him to see where he went at night when the rest of the palace was sleeping. But instead of heading off to meet a mistress, Wynter made his way to the Atrium, the one room in the palace she’d been forbidden to enter. He stayed there for hours—sometimes until morning.
One night, exhausted from spying on her husband, Khamsin dozed off in the adjacent hallway while waiting for him to emerge from the Atrium. She woke sometime later to find herself in his arms, being carried back to her room. She closed her eyes quickly and tried to pretend she was still asleep as he tucked her back into her bed, but he wasn’t fooled.
“Have you followed me enough now to satisfy your curiosity, wife? Or must I set guards at your door to keep you in your bed?”
She gave up the pretense and opened her eyes, scowling up at him. “How long have you known?”
“That you were following me? Since the first night.” He tapped the side of his nose. “I know your scent, wife. I would know it anywhere.”
So much for trying to be stealthy around him. “What are you doing in there?”
“Nothing that concerns you.”
She didn’t believe him. “Are you meeting someone in there?”
“No.”
“So what’s in there? Why can’t anyone else go in? What are you hiding?”
“What’s in there is none of your business. And no one is allowed inside but me because I said so. I am king, and my word is law. That’s why.” He cupped her face gently. His thumb brushed the rose shaped burn on her cheekbone. “And you will make no attempt to gain access to that room. You will not enter it or send anyone else to enter it in your stead. Is that clear?”
She glared at him in mutinous silence.
Her cheek prickled as the hand cupping her face grew cold. “I will have your word, Khamsin. Now.”
“Fine,” she snapped. “I won’t go into the Atrium or send anyone there on my behalf.”
“Good. Now go to sleep. And don’t follow me anymore. You’re supposed to be resting and healing.”
“This is ridiculous. I’m perfectly fine. I heal fast.” What she wanted was him back in her bed and at least some small measure of his attention. She was his wife, after all. But pride wouldn’t let her ask him to stay. It was too much like begging. Khamsin Coruscate had never begged for a thing in her life. She wasn’t about to start now.
