He doesn’t argue as we retrace our steps back toward the citadel.
“I have a question for you,” I say.
Picking our way through the silent wood, Zephyrus brushes his fingertips along the long-dead trees and piles of tangled bramble. Green shoots sprout at his point of contact, then wither and blacken in the chill air. “Ask away.”
I duck beneath some low-hanging branches. “Since you are the Bringer of Spring, would I be correct in assuming you’re knowledgeable in the herbal arts?”
He gives me a sidelong glance. “Yes.”
I slow as we round a bend, thinking about how best to phrase the question without arousing suspicion. Killing the Frost King with a god-touched weapon is an excellent idea—in theory. But it would need to occur at a moment of complete vulnerability. “I’ve been having difficulty sleeping since I arrived. Do you know of a herb that helps with deep sleep?”
Zephyrus’ gaze glows with a strange light. “There is a tonic I make from the petals of the poppy plant.” He halts, and I stop as well. “I think we can help each other, Wren.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, unable to keep the wariness—and the hope—from my tone.
“I mean I can give you what you want,” he says, “in exchange for something I want. A trade of sorts.”
Something in his voice has my back straightening, my chin lifting. He wants something, but it will not come free. “I’m not sure what you’re implying, Zephyrus. I only seek a remedy to help me sleep.”
“I understand, Wren.” His clear, open gaze meets mine squarely.
I hesitate. Surely he could not have unearthed the truth so easily? “What is your price?” I ask him.
Flowers sprout beneath the soles of his feet. Bright, rich colors, which cannot stand against the frost. They die in a matter of seconds. “For you, dear sister-in-law? The price has already been paid.”
“Then what was the price?”
“Your company.” Zephyrus graces me with the most charming of smiles, a dimple winking in one cheek.
My face warms, and I turn away with a mumbled, “Oh.” For a moment, I thought the price would be something horrible, though it makes no sense at all.
“Well, that, and the favor I asked of you earlier.”
Right. I suppose that’s fair. “I’ll speak to your brother. I can’t promise he will listen, but I will try.”
A clump of roses springs from where he touches the stripped bark of a tree. He plucks one of the scarlet blooms and passes it to me, his mouth touched by sudden somberness. “How soon do you need the tonic?”
Relief moves through me. This will work. It must. “As soon as possible.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
Later, after Zephyrus and I have parted ways, I return to my rooms. Warmth from the fire thaws my stiff, frozen cheeks. For the first time in days, I am smiling. Zephyrus and I may have begun the morning on uneven footing, but as the hours passed, I came to know this god who was curious and playful and sad.
“Where have you been?”
The demand resonates around the room, and I whirl around to find the Frost King occupying one of the chairs in the corner, glaring at me. He sits so rigidly it’s easy to mistake him for a piece of furniture.
My good mood vanishes. “I was taking a walk around the grounds,” I say, untying my coat to hang it on a hook near the fire. It’s only half a lie.
That piercing scrutiny shifts from my face, though my relief is short-lived. “Where did you get that bow?”
I’m reminded of the weapon I carry, the color in my cheeks, the brightness of my eyes. After learning I’d left mine behind in Edgewood,Zephyrus gifted the bow to me. “That is of no concern to you,” I reply to the king.
In one sinuous motion, he rises to his feet, and I brace myself against the onslaught of a budding storm. Those blue eyes narrow over his obnoxiously straight nose. “Zephyrus,” he hisses.
“He gave me some pointers on my form,” I concede, moving to stoke the fire. “He, at least, enjoys my company.”
“I don’t want you spending time with him.”
