Page 2 of The Storm
This isn’t like her.
Renataneverran from confrontation. Instincts on alert, Max turned the heavy brass knob.
The door swung open on silent hinges, and Max walked into a kitchen out of a Tyrolean postcard. It was nothing like he’d expect of Renata. An old stove glowed in the corner, and a round cake dotted with fruit cooled next to it. Cinnamon and sugar drifted on air filled with the sounds of soft accordion music from an old record player. A kerosene lamp was centered on the rustic wooden table, and stacks of cut wood lay piled along the far wall. Dozens of pine boughs hung from dark wooden rafters, and intricately cut paper stars decorated them.
Someone had decorated for Midwinter.
Max stepped into the room, immediately removing his snow-covered boots and heavy backpack. “Renata?”
“Max.”
He followed the sound of her voice through the kitchen and into the large open area dominated by a central hearth. More pine boughs hung from the rafters. More stars. Cut crystal lamps with glowing beeswax candles lit the room. Snow had started to fall beyond the frost-covered windows.
Renata was sitting on the floor in front of the crackling fire, hair long and loose around her, dressed in an old-fashioned nightgown. She looked surprisingly young and more than a little vulnerable.
Max was struck dumb at the sight. If there was anyone more jaded and cynical than him, it was Renata. But here she was, sitting in the middle of a snow-covered dream, her brown eyes locked on him as he slowly approached. She’d been crying. In her hands she clutched an old silver candelabra, the seven-branched kind the Irin people used to celebrate Midwinter, the longest night of the year, and the coming of new light and life.
What is this place?
Renata did not look happy to see him. Then again, he hadn’t expected her to.
She asked, “How did you find this place?”
He knew she was angry, but he couldn’t stop his smile. “It’s only taken me eighteen years.”
She stood, set the candelabra down, and reached for a robe on the chair beside her. She wrapped it around herself and stood tall. She was nearly as tall as Max. He loved that about her figure. Then again, he loved everything about her figure.
“I climbed the mountain to find you,” Max said. “The snow—”
“You should go,” she said. “You shouldn’t have come here.”
He caught her arm before she could walk away. “I’m not going anywhere.”
With a whispered spell, she forced his hand away. Max backed up without thinking, his body obeying her magic even as his mind fought against it.
“We’ve already had this conversation,” she said. “I’m not interested in repeating it.”
“I wouldn’t call that a conversation. You had your say. Now it’s my turn.”
“I didn’t agree to that.”
His temper spiked. “I tracked you down to the middle of nowhere. I hiked a mountain in two feet of fresh snow. I damn near froze my toes off to get here. You’re going to hear me out.”
Renata glanced out the window. “There’s a storm coming.”
“I know.”
“Did you plan that?”
“Despite your obvious admiration for my magical prowess, I don’t control the weather.”
She refused to look at him. She walked to the kitchen and he followed her.
“Renata—”
“You can stay the night.” She bent down to one of the cupboards in the kitchen and took out another lamp. “You’ll leave in the morning.”
“I don’t agree to that.”
