The Winter King
Page 189
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EPILOGUE
“Where are we going?” Blindfolded, Khamsin held one hand out in front of her, waving side to side. Although rationally, she trusted Wynter not to walk her into a wall, the instinct to be certain was too strongly ingrained to completely overcome.
“You’ll see.”
She could practically see the smile in his voice, the mischief sparkling in his pale eyes. He sounded like a boy waking on Wyrn’s Day, eager to see what the Old Man of the North had left by the hearth for him.
In the nearly six months since Rorjak’s defeat, Wynter and all of Gildenheim had virtually transformed. Gone was the cold reserve, replaced by laughter, warmth, and friendship. With Khamsin celebrated as the savior of Wintercraig, there wasn’t a home or hearth in the entire kingdom where she would not find welcome. Even the remaining band of Reika’s followers made their peace with her and worked to make amends for their previous transgressions.
Although there had been some rumbling in the court, Wynter had agreed to honor the terms of Khamsin’s negotiations with the invaders—even the part where he arranged for Falcon to be escorted to the closest port and put on a ship sailing to the destination of his choosing. Though hardly a day went by that Khamsin didn’t think at least one sad thought about her brother, in her heart she was glad he was still alive and out in the world somewhere. And each day, she prayed that Falcon would yet become the man he should have been, a man worthy of the blood that ran in his veins.
“We’re coming to another set of stairs,” Wynter said.
“Not too many more stairs, I hope.” As her belly had swollen with the twin babes she could swear were half-giant, Khamsin had become less and less enamored of Gildenheim’s many stairways and labyrinthine corridors. Though it was only June, and she still had months to go before the babies were due, she was already waddling so much she might soon sprout feathers and start to quack.
“Not too many,” he vowed.
“Is it much farther?”
“We’re almost there, min ros.” He held her left arm in one hand, and his right hand rested snugly in the small of her back.
She loved the feel of his hands. So big and powerful, yet so breathtakingly gentle and protective. And warm.
Gone was the cool chill that had emanated from his Ice Heart-infused body. Heat now radiated from him like a furnace. Though he could still summon a frosty Gaze when it served him—the divine powers of the immortal essence he’d drunk would always be a part of him—the Ice King’s loveless, merciless cold no longer held any part of him in its grip.
Khamsin had studied the histories of Wyn and Rorjak with Galacia Frey, and they both agreed that Wynter was the sort of man Rorjak could have been had the Ice King’s heart not hungered for power more than love.
Kham thanked Wyrn and Freika each day that Wynter had made the choice he did.
She heard the sound of someone’s whispering, only to be quickly hushed. A slight breeze feathered across her face as a nearby door swung open.
Beneath the mask, Khamsin’s nostrils flared. “Something smells lovely.” A warm breeze carried the scent of roses and gardenias and rich, loamy soil.
“All right,” Wyn said, unfastening the blindfold. “You can look.”
Khamsin opened her eyes. Her jaw dropped. The smells of summer had not prepared her for the gift Wynter had created.
They were standing in the Atrium, the place Wynter had kept his frozen shrine to the memories of his family and brother. Only the breathtaking ice forest with all its frozen sculptures was gone. In its place was a lush and fragrant garden, an oasis of Summer, blooming here in the heart of Wintercraig.
“I know you have been missing Summerlea, but since traveling isn’t an option until our children are born, I thought I would bring a little of Summerlea to Gildenheim, so you can visit anytime you like.”
“It’s beautiful. But what about your ice sculptures? The ones of your parents? Of Garrick?”
“I kept a few. I made a cold room behind the Atrium and stored them there. I don’t need those memories anymore because I’m going to make plenty of new memories with you. And I wanted this place—the heart of Gildenheim—to be as warm and alive as you’ve made my heart.”
She smiled up at him, blushing a little at the intensity in his gaze. She tugged his hand. “So show me what you’ve done. I want to see everything.”
As they walked, a feeling of familiarity came over her. A brick walk circled the outside of the Atrium, with several walks leading to inner circles. The feeling of familiarity solidified into certainty.
“It’s my mother’s Sky Garden.” She looked up at him in amazed wonder. He’d re-created her mother’s private garden: the paths, the flowers, the apple and pear trees growing up the sides of the walls. Oh, it was still young, with years of growing yet to do, but the bones were here. He’d given Kham her favorite piece of Summerlea, here in the heart of the Craig. “But how did you do it? How did you re-create it so perfectly?”
“Valik hired an artist to sketch everything and a gardener to provide all the clippings, seeds, and the like. Your sisters helped me with the planting, using your mother’s journals.”
“My sisters.” It took a moment to process his words. “You mean my sisters are here?”
“Surprise.” Spring, Summer, and Autumn stepped out from behind a row of flowering fruit trees.
Khamsin screamed with joy and rushed forward. Happy tears spilled from her eyes as her sisters flung their warm arms around her. “I can’t believe it. I can’t believe you’re here. I wasn’t expecting you for another month at least!”
“Where are we going?” Blindfolded, Khamsin held one hand out in front of her, waving side to side. Although rationally, she trusted Wynter not to walk her into a wall, the instinct to be certain was too strongly ingrained to completely overcome.
“You’ll see.”
She could practically see the smile in his voice, the mischief sparkling in his pale eyes. He sounded like a boy waking on Wyrn’s Day, eager to see what the Old Man of the North had left by the hearth for him.
In the nearly six months since Rorjak’s defeat, Wynter and all of Gildenheim had virtually transformed. Gone was the cold reserve, replaced by laughter, warmth, and friendship. With Khamsin celebrated as the savior of Wintercraig, there wasn’t a home or hearth in the entire kingdom where she would not find welcome. Even the remaining band of Reika’s followers made their peace with her and worked to make amends for their previous transgressions.
Although there had been some rumbling in the court, Wynter had agreed to honor the terms of Khamsin’s negotiations with the invaders—even the part where he arranged for Falcon to be escorted to the closest port and put on a ship sailing to the destination of his choosing. Though hardly a day went by that Khamsin didn’t think at least one sad thought about her brother, in her heart she was glad he was still alive and out in the world somewhere. And each day, she prayed that Falcon would yet become the man he should have been, a man worthy of the blood that ran in his veins.
“We’re coming to another set of stairs,” Wynter said.
“Not too many more stairs, I hope.” As her belly had swollen with the twin babes she could swear were half-giant, Khamsin had become less and less enamored of Gildenheim’s many stairways and labyrinthine corridors. Though it was only June, and she still had months to go before the babies were due, she was already waddling so much she might soon sprout feathers and start to quack.
“Not too many,” he vowed.
“Is it much farther?”
“We’re almost there, min ros.” He held her left arm in one hand, and his right hand rested snugly in the small of her back.
She loved the feel of his hands. So big and powerful, yet so breathtakingly gentle and protective. And warm.
Gone was the cool chill that had emanated from his Ice Heart-infused body. Heat now radiated from him like a furnace. Though he could still summon a frosty Gaze when it served him—the divine powers of the immortal essence he’d drunk would always be a part of him—the Ice King’s loveless, merciless cold no longer held any part of him in its grip.
Khamsin had studied the histories of Wyn and Rorjak with Galacia Frey, and they both agreed that Wynter was the sort of man Rorjak could have been had the Ice King’s heart not hungered for power more than love.
Kham thanked Wyrn and Freika each day that Wynter had made the choice he did.
She heard the sound of someone’s whispering, only to be quickly hushed. A slight breeze feathered across her face as a nearby door swung open.
Beneath the mask, Khamsin’s nostrils flared. “Something smells lovely.” A warm breeze carried the scent of roses and gardenias and rich, loamy soil.
“All right,” Wyn said, unfastening the blindfold. “You can look.”
Khamsin opened her eyes. Her jaw dropped. The smells of summer had not prepared her for the gift Wynter had created.
They were standing in the Atrium, the place Wynter had kept his frozen shrine to the memories of his family and brother. Only the breathtaking ice forest with all its frozen sculptures was gone. In its place was a lush and fragrant garden, an oasis of Summer, blooming here in the heart of Wintercraig.
“I know you have been missing Summerlea, but since traveling isn’t an option until our children are born, I thought I would bring a little of Summerlea to Gildenheim, so you can visit anytime you like.”
“It’s beautiful. But what about your ice sculptures? The ones of your parents? Of Garrick?”
“I kept a few. I made a cold room behind the Atrium and stored them there. I don’t need those memories anymore because I’m going to make plenty of new memories with you. And I wanted this place—the heart of Gildenheim—to be as warm and alive as you’ve made my heart.”
She smiled up at him, blushing a little at the intensity in his gaze. She tugged his hand. “So show me what you’ve done. I want to see everything.”
As they walked, a feeling of familiarity came over her. A brick walk circled the outside of the Atrium, with several walks leading to inner circles. The feeling of familiarity solidified into certainty.
“It’s my mother’s Sky Garden.” She looked up at him in amazed wonder. He’d re-created her mother’s private garden: the paths, the flowers, the apple and pear trees growing up the sides of the walls. Oh, it was still young, with years of growing yet to do, but the bones were here. He’d given Kham her favorite piece of Summerlea, here in the heart of the Craig. “But how did you do it? How did you re-create it so perfectly?”
“Valik hired an artist to sketch everything and a gardener to provide all the clippings, seeds, and the like. Your sisters helped me with the planting, using your mother’s journals.”
“My sisters.” It took a moment to process his words. “You mean my sisters are here?”
“Surprise.” Spring, Summer, and Autumn stepped out from behind a row of flowering fruit trees.
Khamsin screamed with joy and rushed forward. Happy tears spilled from her eyes as her sisters flung their warm arms around her. “I can’t believe it. I can’t believe you’re here. I wasn’t expecting you for another month at least!”
