My entire world hinged on this moment. On the king’s golden eyes blazing a warm yellow from the gemstone glow. From the way his lips hovered over any unspoken words.
“My own father died two years ago.” I laid my story, my heart bare. “He also died of an affliction of the heart.”
Elden nodded in solemnity.
“I–” I continued. “I used to blame the elves for his death,”—and the truth hit me. Powerful and true, Iused toblame the elves—“but after meeting the elves, getting to know you as individuals with life experiences as varied as my own, and after the hospitality and sacrifices made on my own behalf, I can now truly say that I…love some of you.”
I felt a healing then, as if my heart knit itself back together, closing the wound that had festered there so angrily. Hate was a jagged scar; forgiveness a healing balm. A needle and a thread that closed old wounds and allowed new growth in its wake.
I used to think it weakness to let go of my anger. That the vulnerability would leave me defenseless. But now? I felt only how my heart had grown to become more than it was before.
A tentative smile spread across the king’s face. “Love?”
I cleared my throat nervously, “You know, Rafia, Tabitha, even Scarlet and her family.”
“Anyone else?” Elden’s smile grew wider.
I blinked, completely dazzled by that beautiful smile.
“There was that lovely little female who helped me into the saddle back in Spindlewood.” I teased.
Did Elden think I would ever be the first to say I loved him? I would not be overwhelmed, even though Elden’s perfect face grinned at me mere feet from where I lay. A sweet tension grew between us, and I was sure Elden would speak. But of course, he said nothing as his smile softened into a smirk.
How many females had fallen for that smile? For those eyes and that beautiful mouth? Yet he had never given his heart to any of them. He’d never led any of the maidens to believe there was a chance between them. So, what new thing was this between the two of us?
I turned from Elden and laid on my back, staring up at the canvas tent, new worries swirling in my gut. “We arrive at Winterthorn tomorrow.”
“Yes.”
“And somehow my baking magic, that I haven’t even gotten to work on purpose, is going to save the world?” I deadpanned.
Elden was quiet, thoughtful for a moment, then said, “You and I are meant to be on this journey together. No matter what comes, remember that.”
“How do you know?” I asked, though my heart warmed at Elden’s words as if in agreement.
“Can’t you feel it?” Elden said.
Then my heart sang, soaring on a phantom wind through the gnarly black branches of the blight that surrounded our tent, and up through the roiling clouds. I did feel it. The hope. The tether that connected our souls together as one. The warmth there. It was not so very different from the feeling of warmth that spread through me as I’d baked in the past. Perhaps this warmth was the feeling I needed to reach out for. Maybe I needed to stop running away from it.
“But I want to know more about you,” Elden said into the growing silence, save for the steady breathing of the horses.
I blushed, “What do you want to know?”
“Everything.” Elden’s mouth raised in a quirk. “Starting with, who was your first—oh, what do you humans call them? Boyfriend?”
“Oh no,” I groaned, burying my head in my blanket. Then a thought crossed my mind, and I popped my head back out. “I’ll answer one question for every question I get to ask of you.”
Elden’s smile grew. “Alright, Little Baker. You first.”
We chatted until the wee hours of the morning, laughing and sharing our deepest and most shallow thoughts until at last, I fell asleep–the smile on Elden’s face, the last image echoing beautifully behind my eyelids.
When I awoke in the middle of the night because of the wind, I noticed my hand had found its way to Elden’s, our fingers intertwined. I flushed and tucked my hand back into my bedroll, not knowing how or when we’d found each other on our own accord in the night.
“We’ll be leavingour horses here at the base camp.” Elden closed up our tent the next morning with our horses still inside.
We were truly that close to Winterthorn? I followed Elden’s lead, taking only my cookbook, spoon, and potion with me…and a small saucepan and lunch, just in case. I might be willing to trip along through the barren ice lands of hell itself, but not without proper food.
There was no proof of the snowstorm we weathered last night. Snow did not blanket the crusted land at our feet, buticicles shot out from every gnarled and black branch, spearing into the sky.
