I blinked. “You’re … not Winter.”
He grinned. “And you’re observant. I’m Kael of the Summer Court. And you’re the mortal who managed to make my brother’s frost catch fire.”
Brother. I understood then who he meant. The realization sank cold and fast.
“I didn’t mean to,” I said.
“Most fascinating things are accidents,” he replied. “If it helps, I find the story delightful. Half the Court thinks you’re a curse. The other half thinks you’re a miracle. I’m hoping for something in between—curses tend to be more interesting company.”
He offered a small bow that somehow managed to look sincere. “May I?”
“May you what?”
“Walk with you. Interrogate you. Flatter you. Whichever comes first.”
I hesitated. “Does your brother know you’re here?”
He smiled wider. “If he did, I imagine I’d already be bleeding.”
That almost made me laugh—almost. “You’re not afraid of him?”
“Should I be?”
I studied him, the way the light curved around his shoulders, the faint steam where his breath met the air. “Everyone else is.”
He tilted his head. “Including you?”
“I don’t owe you an answer.”
He laughed softly, his dark-brown hair falling into his eyes. I noticed it had a copper hue that glinted in the light. “You don’t. But you gave me one anyway.”
We walked in silence for a while, the sound of melting water dripping between us. He didn’t seem in any hurry, letting his hand skim the frost-covered railing as though tracing an old memory. The ice didn’t melt under his touch—it shimmered instead, faintly gold.
“How long have you been here?” I asked.
“Long enough to be bored. Short enough to still think you’re worth the walk.”
I frowned. “Is that how you talk to everyone?”
“Only the ones who look like they might actually listen.”
His tone was playful but not mocking. There was something sincere in the warmth he carried—and that unsettled me more than any of his teasing. Kaelith’s cold had been easy to understand. It was a wall, meant to freeze others out. But Kael’s warmth felt like sunlight, the kind that burned before you realized you’d stepped too close.
“You’re very sure of yourself,” I said.
“I have to be,” he said with a shrug. “Someone has to balance my brother’s tragic lack of charm.”
“Tragic,” I echoed. “That’s one word for it.”
Kael laughed again, the sound rich enough to chase the cold from the air for a heartbeat.
He glanced at me then, not the way the courtiers had—not like I was a curiosity—but like I was something alive. It made me nervous.
“I don’t know what you think I’ve done,” I said quietly. “But I’m not what your Court believes.”
“Then prove it,” he said, still smiling but softer now. “Talk to me. Let me see for myself.”
I didn’t answer. Words felt dangerous here, even friendly ones. Still, when he offered his arm like it was the most natural thing in the world, I hesitated only a moment before shaking my head.
