Page 1 of Mountains of Mist and Magic

Chapter One

Esmeralda moved quietly through the lodge, her borrowed boots pinching her toes and sounding loudly on the hardwood floor. Her own wardrobe of sandals and satin, gauzy flowing material and whisper-light silks weren’t suited for the harsh cold of the Snow Lands.

She wrapped her cloak tightly around her, the scratchy brocade foreign and heavy over her shoulders. Reaching the door, she took a deep breath and braced herself. The wind hit her face, stinging and sharp. The cold was so intense that it seemed to reach out and snatch her breath, before returning it to her lungs and freezing her insides.

The gardens were beautiful though, she thought to herself. The arctic pears were a vibrant winter mint green, and the flowers glistened with strands of ice covering their stems. But tonight, she didn’t stall to take a taste or capture the flowers into memory. There was only one thing she wanted to commit to her mind.

Phillippe’s handsome face.

Her heart raced, turning the corner. The pair had been meeting here in secret for the past few nights, once Grayden and Renya had left for their honeymoon. Selenia was wrapped up with Sion’s care, and Triston was up in the winter encampment, supervising and training with the Snow Land’s soldiers. With everyone occupied, including Renya’s aunt and Tumwalt, it was rather easy to slip into the gardens undetected.

Esmeralda’s breath caught in her throat as she saw him, standing near a stone bench. Snow had gathered in his hair, and his warm brown eyes shone with excitement that matched her own. He wore his usual uniform of black leather and furs, barely hiding his thick arms and muscular thighs. Esmeralda walked slowly, trying hard not to run into his arms. She was new to…this. New to the excitement that came from whispering words of affection, of stolen kisses and tender embraces.

But she loved every second of it.

And yet…she knew Phillippe’s reputation. She’d seen the maids stare, saw the way that the village women attempted to approach him when he went outside of the lodge and into Wesalie. His familiarity with them and their lack of shame led her to one conclusion: he’d entertained many women in his adulthood. It was foolish to lend her heart to him so quickly, but his charming smile and hearty laugh welcomed him in and threw out common sense.

Phillippe held out his hand to her, and she grasped it, as he placed a chaste kiss on the top of her calfskin glove.

Always chaste. Always tender. Never pushing.

It was hard for her to reconcile this version of him, with his hesitant embraces and gentle touches with the rakish tales she had heard whispered around the village.

“I’ve been waiting all day to get you alone,” Phillippe whispered, a small smile playing on his full lips. “I didn’t think dinner would ever end.”

She tried to think of something romantic to say back, something that expressed the patter of her heart or the way her breath extinguished whenever he came near, but she struggled for the words. “Me too,” she replied, and then the empty prose hung in the still air.

She felt like a clumsy young schoolgirl.

Phillippe grabbed her arm in his, and they began their nightly ritual—strolling through the winter gardens.

“When will you return to the winter camp?” she asked, trying to fill the awkward silence that she felt was completely her own doing.

“I’ll stay here at the lodge until Grayden is back. Triston has the mountain encampment under good control, and I’m dealing with Grayden’s work the best I can. I’ll be glad to get back to the fresh mountain air, though.”

Esmeralda bit her lip. Was he eager to leave her? Did he not desire her the way she did him?

He must have sensed her mood shift right away, because he quickly amended his statement. “Being cooped up in his study is killing me. I’m used to living off the land, working my body hard—”

He stopped, no doubt noticing the bright pink creeping up from Esmeralda’s neck and the blood pooling in her cheeks.

“I mean—I’m used to sparring with my men.” Phillippe finished the sentence lamely, and Esmeralda turned to look at him.

“Selenia thinks Sion might be able to lift a sword soon.”

Phillippe’s face lit up, his excitement unbridled. “That’s great news. I’ve been worried about him, locked in the study with Selenia, pouring over book after book.”

Esmeralda was fairly confident that neither Selenia nor Sion minded the task set before them. Selenia had volunteered them both to comb the library and archives to find mentions of fading magic in every historical text they could. It must have seemed like a dull job to Phillippe, who much preferred action to reading, but Esmeralda had walked into the library enough times to see Selenia’s red face and Sion’s guilty eyes. There was a lot more than research happening in that library…

“I’m glad he’s recovering,” Phillippe continued, stopping and pretending to admire a lotus bush. The dark pink blossoms matched the blush in Esmeralda’s cheeks, but neither commented on it.

“Selenia has been taking good care of him. I’m glad he has her.”

“I’m glad I have you,” Phillippe whispered, his eyes drifting off to the mountainside over Esmeralda’s left shoulder.

“Do you want to have me?” Esmeralda asked, slightly taken aback by his confession. She knew he desired her, knew that he found her physically attractive, but beyond that, she wasn’t sure of his motives. He seemed to show intense restraint around her, and on more than one occasion it seemed like he pulled himself away whenever their kisses got a little too desperate or their embraces a little too fervent.

Phillippe drew his eyes back to her face. She met his gaze, his eyes hot on her like fire. Even though he was shorter than Grayden and her brother, he still towered over her, practically swallowing her in his shadow under the moonlight. He brought his hand up to her cheek, and Esmeralda leaned into the touch of his rough, yet warm hand. “You don’t know how much I want to have you, Sea Star.”

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