Page 73 of Frost Bound

Dahlia jerked out of his grip, her breaths coming a little faster. He stared at his callused fingertips, the phantom feeling of her soft skin leaving a tingling sensation behind.

Maybe she was a witch.

“I have a request,” she stated.

He arched a brow. “Oh?”

Her little fists clenched at her sides, but other than that, she was a mirror of serenity. “I would like Loshika to come with us if she wishes.”

“I procured a healer from the city.”

“I want Loshika. She’s been with me while I’ve been sick. She has more hands-on knowledge about my health.”

Neve shrugged. If it made her more biddable, it was an easy ask. “Fine. I will send Loshika in with your clothes. She will help prepare you for the journey. You can ask her yourself.”

It was only one small win, but he’d take it.

More fights were to come, he was sure.

Olwen readiedtherukhalsas Neve weaved through the throng of people, clasping arms with warriors, blessing new marriages and newborn children as Flyka shadowed him. His face hurt from smiling, but it was a good hurt. This was what he loved, where he truly wanted to be, among the people, not sequestered in the palace playing chess against the rest of the known world.

A crescendo of cheers rose behind him, and he turned to face the healer’s home.

Hisloviayestood on the porch, once again dressed in white. Her cloak was trimmed in white fur that framed her face. She pushed back the hood, revealing her golden hair that shone a pinkish-red in the light as she stepped toward the stairs, skirts flowing around her legs. A small bud of pride unfurled in his chest at the foreign but regal presence she had.

Her hazel orbs scanned the crowd, a sweet smile curling her lips. Motion in the sky caught his attention, and cries of delight sounded in his ears as anastryllelanded on the pitched roof right above Dahlia. The massive bird of prey, with its white feathers trimmed in black, and gold eyes, studied the people below and hooted once.

The crowd cheered.

“You’ve been blessed,” Flyka murmured, awe in her tone.

Theastrylletook flight and swooped over the crowd.

Neve smiled at Dahlia, who stared wide-eyed at the departingastrylle.

He held his breath as a child escaped his mother and scampered up the stairs as fast as his chubby little legs could carry him. The young boy held a black lysterm flower in his pale blue hand as his mother reached the bottom of the stairs, chastising him.

Dahlia knelt on the porch and smiled at the little boy. “That’s a pretty flower. I’ve never seen on that color.”

“Lae reilleve,” he said, placing his other hand on her knee and holding the flower out to her.

The mother made a distressed sound, and went to snatch up her son, but halted as Dahlia ducked her head to meet the wee one’s gaze.

“Jiaell vei,” she murmured softly. “It’s beautiful.”

Thank you. When had she learned that?

Neve watched as she took the proffered flower from his chubby fingers and tucked the bell shaped flower into her braid. “Is it pretty?” she asked softly, ignoring all the eyes on her.

“Sei!” he answered. “Mommar!”

“Sei,” the mother murmured, pulling the little boy back down the stairs and into her arms. “Very pretty.” The mother bowed low, and the wee one waved as they melded back into the crowd.

Dahlia waved, a genuine smile on her face.

It struck him. Neve hadn’t seen that smile before. He found himself at the bottom of the steps, staring up at his wife. He held out his hand and waited, praying that she wouldn’t make them both look like fools. And hoping that maybe she could turn that smile on him.

Time slowed as she stared down at him, the smile fading to serenity.

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