“Your guard dog doesn’t like me,” he said, stepping into the room with that easy grin of his. “Tragic, really. I was hoping to make a good impression.”
“Fenrir doesn’t like anyone,” I said. “He’s an excellent judge of character.”
Kael pressed a hand dramatically to his chest. “Then I must be terrible.”
“You said it, not me.”
His laughter filled the space the frostlight had left empty. It was startling—like color in a world drained of it. He crossed to the window where the thin winter sun still glowed through the glass, then turned toward me, his warmth pulling the chill out of the air.
“I thought you’d vanished,” he said.
“Maybe I did.”
“That would be a shame. You’re the only thing interesting left in this castle.”
I rolled my eyes, but the corner of my mouth betrayed me with the start of a smile. “Does that line work on everyone or just mortals who can’t escape?”
He leaned his shoulder against the wall, eyes bright with amusement. “Usually, they don’t argue this much when I’m flattering them.”
“Maybe they’re smarter than I am.”
“Or less brave.” His gaze softened. “Not many people talk to me without flinching.”
That quiet admission caught me off guard. Beneath the teasing, there was something raw—lonely, almost. Before I could answer, he glanced toward Fenrir, who still watched him with unblinking suspicion.
“You know,” Kael said, lowering his voice conspiratorially, “I think he likes me more than your other admirer.”
I froze. “Myother—”
“Kaelith,” he said easily, as if it were nothing. “I’ve never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you. It’s … unsettling.”
I turned back toward the window, pretending to study the ice. “He doesn’t look at me at all anymore.”
Kael’s tone gentled. “Ah. So that’s the problem.”
“There is no problem.”
“Mm.” He pushed off the wall and came closer, each step slow, unhurried. I could feel the heat from him before he was close enough to touch. “If you say so.”
He stopped beside me, close enough that the edge of his sleeve brushed mine. The contrast in temperature made me shiver—his warmth against the cold leaking from the windowpane.
“Are you always this forward?” I asked, trying to sound annoyed.
He smiled. “Only when it works.”
I looked up at him, meaning to scold, but the words caught. His eyes weren’t the icy gray of Kaelith’s; they were a warmer silver, rimmed in faint gold, like light striking water.
He followed my gaze to the frost forming at the corner of the glass. “It’s strange,” he said softly. “In Summer, the windows sweat from heat. Here, even light freezes.”
“You miss it?”
“Sometimes.” He reached out, brushing a bit of ice from the sill with his bare hand. The frost hissed and melted instantly. “The creatures there are loud and impossible. Dusk-lions, fire-drakes, birds that glow so bright you have to squint to look at them.”
“And here?”
He smiled faintly. “Here, the beasts are quieter. They hide under snow and wait for you to forget they’re there. When they strike, you don’t even hear the teeth close.”
“That sounds comforting.”
