Page 128 of Frost Like Night
The streets turn in such sharp angles that I swear I can hear them snapping into place. Merchants shout from their stalls, waving their wares to attract customers under the noon sky. The curved brown tiles of the roofs still sit on foundations of gray stone; vines still scramble up walls in bursts of foliage. Flags wave high in the breeze, hunter-green backgrounds bearing Cordell’s golden maple leaf and lavender stalk.
I catch Mather’s eye. “Everyone looks happy.”
He pitches one shoulder up, thinks better of whatever he was about to say, and nods to my saddlebag. “What did the letter say again?”
Ahead of us, Trace groans. “You don’t have it memorized by now?”
But Mather holds my gaze. He does have the letter memorized; I do too. It’s the only contact I’ve had with Theron since I sent Greer to check on him a month after . . . everything.
I’d hoped Greer would return with something more than political reports—something that would let me know how Theron truly was. For the hundredth time, I wonder if I should have gone, or if I should have followed Theron out of that valley after the battle and made sure he was all right.
My body sways toward Mather instinctively.
No—I had my own kingdom to repair. Angra’s Decay had infected every Winterian in Jannuari, and when the magic disappeared, they were left hurting and filled with regret over the things they had let Angra make them do. My place after the war was in Winter.
I draw out the letter, the parchment unrolling in my fingers.
To the queen of the Kingdom of Winter:
In the wake of magic’s destruction, our world has returned to a state of normalcy. But it will take many years before all wounds are healed.
Which is why I call on you now. A similar letter is at this moment being read by every monarch in Primoria. I beseech you all with the same request: to gather in Bithai in three weeks’ time to put into effect the treaty that many of you signed before the war. The principles of that treaty are needed now more thanever—principles that will help us sculpt a Primoria comprised of eight united kingdoms.
Only together can we rebuild the world.
Theron’s signature swirls across the bottom, capped with Cordell’s seal.
I straighten and smile at Mather. “It says that everything will be all right.”
He gives me an uncertain look but nods. “It already is.”
Maple branches arch over us as we pull onto a wide road. The canopy above lets golden light filter through, making the last few moments of our trip serene, almost dreamlike.
We reach the gate leading to the palace and I smile. This used to be the site of two golden trees. Noam’s doing, a display of Cordell’s wealth. But they’re gone, and a chain holds the gate open in a permanent state of welcome.
Theron has opened the palace to his kingdom.
This image makes me ride into the courtyard with more confidence. We dismount, and Mather instantly sets to work passing out orders to the guards who came with us. Greer and Conall bear the symbol of Winter, a snowflake, on their chests, while Trace, Hollis, and Feige wear the uniform of the Thaw, a snowflake-wildflower hybrid emblazoned on their shoulders—a mark of my elite personal guard, which the Thaw has become.
When everyone is sorted, Mather pushes his fists into his pockets, and I can’t help but smile. I still have troublegrasping how easily my Winterians have adapted to normal life.
Mather’s eye catches on something behind me and he smiles. “Looks like we aren’t the only ones who decided to come.”
I can’t ask what he means before a body slams me forward.
“How dare you?” Ceridwen shouts, punching me lightly. “It’s beensix weekssince you visited. You abandoned me, you awful girl.”
I turn and punch her back, but I’m smiling too. “It was your turn to come to Winter!”
Ceridwen sighs dramatically as another familiar face emerges from the grove. Jesse nods at Mather, sees the fit Ceridwen seems to be having, and shakes his head at me.
“Getting you two together never ends well for me,” Jesse says.
Ceridwen ignores him and links her arm through mine. “Regardless of whose turn it was to visit whom, it’s been six weeks since we’ve talked.” She pivots us toward the palace, Jesse and my retinue falling in behind. Her eyes linger on the gray stones and glittering windows that tower in a suddenly intimidating wave. “And apparently a lot has happened.”
She looks at me, and I wave my hand dismissively.
“I have no idea what this is about, aside from what the letter said.”
