“That’s my face,” he states blandly.
“Right. That.” I attempt a smile, but it falls flat.
Boreas huffs, squeezing the back of my neck affectionately. With a gentle nudge, he pushes me along, nearer to Elora’s home.
My heart pounds sickeningly fast. “Don’t scowl,” I say. “Don’t move too quickly—you might frighten them.” What else? “Keep your spear out of sight. Make sure you chew with your mouth closed.”
“I always chew with my mouth closed,” he clips out. “You should take your own advice.”
I ignore him. “Don’t take off your gloves. Oh, don’t—”
“Wren.” He stops me before we reach the porch, his grip sure, yet gentle. It’s a combination I’ve grown to appreciate from him. “There is nothing you or I need to change. Either Elora accepts the circumstances, or she doesn’t. That is not something you have control over.”
“If she tells me to leave…” I can’t finish the thought. It hurts too much.
Something in his expression softens. “Then you and I will go.” He brings my hand to his chest. His heart thumps beneath my palm, and the rhythm grounds me. “But at least you will have closure. You will know you tried. You fought for her when she would not fight for you.”
And you,I nearly say.You fought for me, too.
How we managed to reach this point in time, this place, I will never understand. But I do know one thing.
“I’m glad you’re here.”
Boreas squeezes my hand, then releases it. “Me, too.”
A rush of renewed courage steels my spine. I climb the stairs up to the porch. Lifting my fist, I knock twice, then wait.
Elora, dressed in a simple beige gown with her dark brown hair contained to a bun, startles upon opening the door. “Wren?”
Then she spots Boreas. Her face drains of color so quickly she sways, and I reach out to steady her.
She recoils from my touch, stumbling backward. Her hip rams into a small table, and the vase resting atop it tips, shattering as it hits the floor.
“Elora?” Hurried footsteps thunder from the back of the house. To Shaw’s credit, he doesn’t balk at the sight of the North Wind on his doorstep. He is, however, wary.
“What do you want?” Shaw bites out, planting himself in front of his wife. I don’t blame him. We hardly know each other. But Elora doesn’t attempt to stop him, andthathurts.
Lifting my chin, I say, “I’m here to speak with my sister.”
“In the middle of the night? It seems a most inconvenient time.” Another cutting glance at Boreas, who stiffens at my back.
“I could hardly send a letter across the Shade,” I reply with false sweetness. I’m already reconsidering the no-spear rule. A bit of fear never fails to inspire. “Don’t worry. Boreas isn’t looking for another bride. He already has his hands full with me.” And anyway, I’m not interested in sharing.
A huff of air stirs the crown of my head. It sounds suspiciously like laughter.
Elora peeks around her husband’s shoulder. Her soft, slender hands clench the fabric of Shaw’s tunic with white knuckles. Small, timid, faint-hearted. An oily feeling squirms up my spine, for I was once like her. I once looked at the Frost King as she does now, with room only for terror on my face. “May we come in?” I ask.
She glances between me and the king. “What do you want?”
“For you to speak with me face to face.” The answer snaps out of me. “For once in your life, Elora, try not to act like a coward.”
“This goes too far,” she grinds out, both hands cupped around her round stomach. In her eyes, I have betrayed her trust. I have brought peril to her doorstep. It is one dagger to the heart after another. “I invited you into my home last time, but that was when you came alone.” She swallows. “You are no longer welcome here. I’m sorry, Wren, but I can’t risk the baby.”
When I last visited Elora, I looked into eyes the same color and shape as mine, and I wondered who, exactly, had changed. It is obvious to me now.
“Do you honestly believe I would ever harm your child? Your husband? Anyone who matters to you?” Rage burns red behind my eyes. Not even Boreas’ reassuring presence is able to calm me. “How can you possibly think that?”
“Look,” Shaw begins.
