Fake!the horse cloak cried when it saw them.
A porter cheerfully handed them a map.
“Welcome to our cursed little town! Behind me, you’ll find the famous palace with our sleeping princess guarded by a dragon! Beware, if you cross the tenth step, you will likely die! Just on the other side of the castle lies our cozy inn featuring home-cooked meals and feather-down beds. Andhere, you’ll find our family-friendly tourist attractions!”
“Your town is…cursed?” Ambrose said.
“Oh yes. None of us can leave this eternal winter until the princess wakes up. Minus the tourists, of course. But that’s all right. So far, it’s been a boon to our local economy. Enjoy!”
Imelda watched as the porter gently shooed them toward the lawn so that he could greet the next people in line. Imelda shivered, warming her arms, and then frowned. Ambrose had taken off down the row of tents, his cloak billowing behind him and his hands in his pockets.
“What are you doing!” she called.
Ambrose glanced over his shoulder. His gray eyes looked bright even as his mouth twisted in sorrow.
“Doing as the gentleman bade us to do andenjoying. You’re welcome to continue your best impersonation of a statue—”
Imelda scowled.
“Or you could join me and have some fun.”
“As if you know how to have any kind of fun.”
“I have quite the imagination.”
Imelda didn’t miss the way his voice went a little rough when he said that. She also didn’t miss the sudden rabbit-quick pulse of her heart.
“As if you’re not curious enough to find out whether that’s true.” Ambrose raised an eyebrow. “For an adventurous princess, you’re turning out to be exceptionally boring—”
“I am no such thing!”
He smirked. “Prove it.”
Imelda watched for an excruciatingly long second as he walked off into the crowds. And then she took after him, determined to prove him wrong.
***
Let me show you whatIsee. Sometimes magic is too vast to comprehend up close and demands that you step back andback, until you believe that the sky is a length of blue silk you might wrap around your wrist and then forget all about. That is the perspective needed to witness an intrusion of love, for it is no different than magic.
See how he watches the frost spangle in her hair like diamonds; hear how she laughs until she’s out of breath. Watch the impossible chasm of an inch between their fingers as their skin flirts with the idea of touch and their minds pretend to be full of snow. You can trace the edge of nighttime, the heavy curtain of dusk, the way it weighs their every step.
One night.
Last night.
One night after a year and a day of wasted nights, and she smells of smoke, and his eyes look like poured silver, and her laugh is costlier than coffers of gold, and if he spends it all in one night…ah, at least he possessed it for an evening. As for her, her skin feels too tight. She wants freedom, yes, and abandonment, and in the snow slanting across his smile, she finds one, and in the breadth of his shoulders and too-dark eyes, she sees the promise of the latter. You think it’s lust, but it’s not. It’s bravery. To close distances. To take the raw, beating part of you and hold it up to the light. And the purpose of quests is, naturally, to do brave things.
And now…
Now…
Now, they stand at their respective doors. Now, the hall is dark, and the night fully ripe. Now, we really have no business watching, but we all crave magic, so…
Chapter 15
IMELDA
Imelda leaned against the door of her bedroom, which shared a door with Ambrose’s room. They had eaten, washed, and tucked the horse cloak onto a round peg and now stood around, on the verge of saying goodnight and shutting their doors.
