Page 16 of Kiss of Frost

“I’m not.”

“Mmhmm.” She shoved her own pole into the ice. “Anyway, I’m not exactly sure what to expect. According to my research, everyone has a slightly different experience. A lot of people visit oracles to ask for wisdom, but nothing says you can’t ask for a favor.”

“So you’re going to ask it to come with you?”

She looked at me, her eyes swimming with worry. “Is that dumb?”

“No,” I said, meaning it. “Seems like a better approach than trying to wrestle it into submission.”

“Yeah.” She faced ahead. After a moment, she spoke in a low voice. “But I truly don’t know what I’m doing, Callum.”

I tugged her to a stop and touched her jaw. “Hey, that’s not true.”

“It kind of is, though,” she said with a shaky laugh. “I’ve tried to imagine how I’m going to make this work, but I don’t have a solid plan. I’m not like all the famous immortals in the stories who set out on epic quests and walked away from an oracle with new powers or priceless knowledge.”

“Yes, you are.” I traced my gloved finger along her cheek because I couldn’t help it. “You think those immortals weren’t nervous? That they never worried about the outcome or doubted their chances of success?”

“Probably,” she murmured.

“Definitely.” I leaned in and brushed a kiss over her cheek, my lips following the path of my finger. When I pulled back, she was smiling.

“What was that for?”

I shrugged. “You needed it. And you’re beautiful. And I wanted to.”

Her smile turned into a laugh. “In that order?”

“You’ll never know,” I said with a wink. “I like to cultivate an air of mystery.”

She shook her head, but her smile lingered as we started forward again. The landscape was as barren as ever, but the air felt warmer now that I’d chased the worry from her eyes. I sneaked glances at her, making sure it stayed away. We lapsed into a comfortable silence, our boots crunching in the snow.

“I love that sound,” I said after a moment.

Georgie shot me a startled look. “Me too.”

A smile tugged at my mouth, and I let it win as tenderness stole through me. “Of course you do. We’re fated to be together.”

She didn’t reply at first. We crunched side by side, our hiking poles stabbing through the icy crust that covered the snow. Then she looked up at me. “You really believe that, don’t you?”

“It’s not a belief. I know it.” I returned her gaze. “Don’t tell me witches don’t believe in fate.”

“We do. It’s just…” She shook her head. “The houses are mired in politics. Most witches marry for power or position. My parents loved each other, but their union was grounded in the desire to produce a powerful heir.”

“And they did.”

She sighed. “Unfortunately, they didn’t.”

“You seem to wield power just fine to me. You flew us through the wind from Scotland to the Arctic. The savings on plane tickets alone is impressive, Georgie.”

She laughed, but then she shook her head. “Grabbing the wind has never been my problem. I can catch it, but I can never seem to hold it.” Her brow furrowed, and she appeared to grope for an explanation. “Have you ever seen a baseball game where an outfielder is backing up, glove in the air, ready to catch a fly ball? And it hits his glove and for a second, he’s got it, and the whole stadium is ready to celebrate, but then it pops out of his glove, and everyone groans? That’s me with the wind. I get so close, and then everything goes wrong. I can grab the wind, but I always drop it.”

My heart ached for her. I knew next to nothing about witchcraft, but I knew how much the witches coveted power—and reviled those who had little of it. “Maybe it’s as the Consort said. Given enough time, you’ll master your element.”

“Not quickly enough for the elders of House Blackwood. They won’t settle for anyone less powerful than my father. To be honest, I understand their position. My father’s power kept our enemies at bay. If I take over without proving myself, the other houses will circle like vultures.” She gestured toward the expanse of snow ahead of us. “Which is why I’m currently trekking through a frozen void to possibly die at the hands of an ice dragon.”

“No one is dying today, lassie.” I lifted one of my hiking poles and curled my bicep. “Not with these muscles.” When she laughed, I placed a big, bold check on my mental list. We walked for a few more minutes, and I gentled my tone. “You speak of your father in the past tense.”

“Yes.”

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