Page 13 of Ice Bound

"You have already saved the both of us," he said. "Are you sure you wish to walk alongside me? It is no easy road."

She found no reason to look away from his entrancing eyes now. "I remained here because it was easy. Because I could numb myself to life. But…I want tofeel. I want tolive."

He smiled down at her, the expression softening his eyes. "I suppose we'll have time before the next village to work a mysterious lady into the stories."

Rising, she wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him, and delighted in the taste of winter on his tongue. There was no guilt, no shame or fear. Only fresh-blossoming love warming her heart, and the freedom to finally let go.

THE WINTER KING

Aldric ran his gloved hand down the neck of his horse, Netty. She shifted, nudging his shoulder with her nose. He was lingering; the others were already inside where there was warmth and food. Netty was brushed down, fed and watered, and still Aldric remained in the stables, angry at his own regret. He inhaled deeply. The smell of manure and damp straw filled his nose.

“I made the right choice,” he said, looking into Netty’s brown eyes. With one last affectionate pat, Aldric left the stables.

Frigid wind and snow slammed into him the moment he stepped outside. It stung his face and burned his lungs. He trudged through the knee-high snow toward the inn, arms wrapped tight around his chest and eyes slitted. The building was three stories high, looming ominous and dark with its shutters closed against the storm.

He grasped the latch and struggled against the gale and mounting snow to pull the door open. Wind howled around him, white flakes swirling madly as cold air and warm air collided. The storm forced the door closed again with a slam. It whistled through the cracks and crevices, still audible in the relative silence of the room. Dozens of patrons — men, women, and even a few children, some with the look of hard travel — stared at him briefly before returning to their meals and quiet conversations.

Aldric removed his cloak, shook the snow from it, and folded it over his arm. He stomped more snow from his boots and brushed the ice from his short beard. Warmth slowly worked into him, fingers throbbing with pain as the chill fled and they regained feeling.

Spotting his companions from the caravan, Aldric worked his way through the crowded room and to the long table that dominated its center. He wedged himself into an open place on the bench beside Gevin, one of the grizzled caravan guards. The tradesman Valgan sat on the opposite side of the table.

“Damn fine luck we found this place when we did!” Gevin said, sliding a steaming tankard of mulled ale to Aldric. “Lucky we even made it through the passes. Bet you regret not turning your little mare around, eh?”

Aldric clenched his jaw; each moment as they crossed the mountains had been a struggle, his hands itching to tug on the reins and wheel Netty around, back toward home. Back toward Rhoslyn. Aldric nodded his thanks and sipped the drink. After the chill of the blizzard, the ale was scalding, but he welcomed the heat. Anything to take his mind offher.

“Not normal for there to be this much snow so early in the season,” said Valgan. “We should’ve had another fortnight of clear weather, at least.”

“What do we do now?” Aldric asked. He’d done work as a woodcutter and a carpenter for most of his life, before joining the caravan a few weeks before. This was all new to him.

“Wait it out,” Valgan replied. “Won’t do us any good to press on in this weather. Enjoy the walls, roof, and drink while we can.”

“Rooms are all filled, but the innkeeper says we’re welcome to find a place on the floor once things quiet down,” Gevin added. He took a long swig from his mug and wiped ale from his moustache. “A rung or two up the ladder from rocks and dirt, isn’t it?”

“One or two.” Aldric let his eyes wander around the quiet space. The fire, though it was at least ten paces away, burned noisily in the wide hearth, its crackling carrying through the room, and the wind was louder than most of the hushed conversations amongst the patrons.

A woman’s laughter caught his attention. Aldric’s heart stopped, frozen by the flicker of recognition. The light, high sound was so like Rhoslyn’s that he expected to see her when he leaned forward and looked down the table.

The woman was a stranger. Her dark eyes sparkled and bouncing brown curls framed her face as she spoke with the man beside her. She lifted her hand and brushed it over the man’s face; he was pale-skinned, with black hair hanging about his shoulders. She was nothing like Rhoslyn. But the laugh had been enough to send Aldric back for a moment, to make him doubt.

Why can’t I push her from my mind? Weeks of travel and still the memory of Rhoslyn lingers as strong as ever.

He scowled. The woman glanced at him and tilted her head, her smile fading. Her partner turned to stare at Aldric with startlingly clear blue eyes. The man’s gaze was heavy, piercing, unsettling.

Aldric dropped his attention to the mug before him and took another drink. It was going to be a long night; he didn’t need to get into a fight with a stranger and complicatethings further. Having Rhoslyn fresh on his mind was torment enough.

One of the barmaids came with a bowl of mutton stew and a chunk of dark bread. Aldric ate and listened to his companions jest, pushing all thoughts of women from his mind. He’d made the right choice. After his wife betrayed him it would have been foolish to get involved with Rhoslyn. To welcome that sort of hurt again.

“If it pleases all of you,” came a voice from down the table, rich and melodious, “I’ve a fitting story to tell on a cold night such as this.”

The patrons looked to the dark-haired man at the end of the table. The woman was watching him, too, that soft smile upon her lips once more, as he rose from his seat and swept his strange eyes over the crowd.

There were a few grunts of assent; the weather was too frigid for much enthusiasm, it seemed.

“To most, winter is a bleak time. Its icy winds bring numbing cold, misery, and sometimes death.” The man glanced to his woman. There was deep sadness in her eyes, but her lips remained upturned in a soft smile. He caressed her cheek. “But there’s also beauty, if one takes the time to look around. There’s love to be found when least expected.”

The man stepped away from her, walking leisurely down one side of the long table, behind the packed bench. Toward Aldric.

“Some of you may be familiar with tales of the Winter King. That these bitter storms are his doing, his punishment for a world of warmth and happiness that is always just outside his grasp.”

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