“Do you ever listen?” I said.
She turned slowly. The wind caught a strand of hair and dragged it across her cheek. “Only when it’s worth hearing.”
“Defiance suits you less when half the guard nearly died because of it.”
“Half the guard nearly died because ofyourFrostwraiths.”
My jaw tightened. “They’re not mine.”
“They are when they answer to your Court.”
I crossed the balcony in three strides. The air between us grew sharp. “You think you understand Winter because you’ve seen one night of it?”
“I understand that you ordered me to hide while people froze to death.”
“I ordered you tolive.”
The words came out harsher than I intended. She flinched, only slightly, but it was enough to make guilt scrape my throat. The aurora shifted overhead, streaks of red bleeding into violet and painting her face in strange, holy light.
I should have stepped back. My body refused to listen, so instead, I said, “You disobeyed me.”
She folded her arms. “You’re welcome.”
“Don’t mock me.”
“Then stop making it so easy.”
A sound escaped me—half-laugh, half-groan. “You don’t fear me at all, do you?”
“Should I?”
“Yes.” I clenched my fists.
The wind rose between us, dragging frost from the railing in a shimmering arc. She didn’t move. Gods, she never moved when she should.
I’d spent centuries mastering control. But she stood there with snow gathering in her hair and ruin written across her palm, and all I wanted was to close the distance that had become unbearable.
“You could have been killed,” I said again, lower this time.
“So could you.”
“I’m not mortal.”
“Maybe that’s the problem.”
Her tone was quiet, not cruel. It landed harder than a shout.
Something in me broke rank. I reached out before I could stop myself. My gloved hand brushed the edge of her cloak, then her wrist. The heat under her skin answered instantly, flaring against the cold until it ached.
She looked down at where we touched. “I thought frost didn’t burn,” she murmured.
“It does,” I said, voice rough. “You just have to hold it long enough.”
For a moment neither of us moved. The aurora rippled, a slow pulse of crimson and gold sliding across the ice. Her breath misted between us as she tilted her chin upward, unafraid.
Then she smiled—small, impossible. “Was that supposed to scare me?”
“No,” I admitted. “That was supposed to stop you.”
