They parted to each complete their tasks. As Bryn stuffed clothes and blankets into rucksacks for them, her mind went to the Wollin. She’d never been to Hytooth Palace, but she had once traveled to the south of the Wollin with her family. She recalled the smell of the orange groves and the gently lapping waves on the sandy beach. She’d never imagined any place could be as serene, yet she feared that serenity would be in short supply on this visit.
Once their clothes were packed, she left the rucksacks in their chambers so as not to invite questions, and went to the kitchen. She’d hoped to sneak into the pantry unobserved, but someone cleared their voice behind her as soon as she was bent over, digging through potatoes.
“Can I help you, Queen Bryn?”
“Roxin!” Bryn straightened, pressing a hand to her chest as she struggled to explain the potato in her hand. “Ah . . . I wanted to surprise the king with a romantic . . . picnic. I was just borrowing some food.”
Roxin folded her arms pointedly. “A picnic, eh? During a snowstorm? With a potato?”
Bryn scrunched up her face. “An . . . indoor picnic.”
“That’s called ameal.”
Bryn sighed. “Look, as queen, can’t I just command you to help me and not ask questions?”
A smile broke across Roxin’s face. “As queen? No. As a friend? Yes, I’ll help. Now put down that potato.”
Bryn described what she and Rangar would need for the trek, and Roxin packed a small bundle with dried venison and cheese and fruit. Bryn dressed in her warmest clothes and carried the rucksacks down to the stable, where Oliver had already prepared Legend and Fable with saddle pads that could double as extra blankets.
She stroked Fable’s face. “We have to go out in the snow, but I promise we’ll be all right.”
Rangar soon joined her in his bearskin cloak, and brought Valenden and Saraj with him. Saraj gave Bryn a sturdy hug. “Please take care. Don’t trust any other royal families for a moment, other than your brother.”
Bryn returned the embrace, then glanced between Oliver and Saraj, who were standing exceptionally close. “Thank you for helping to keep watch while we’re away, Saraj. If you need anything, I’m sure Oliver can help.”
Oliver grinned a little sheepishly as he nodded.
Valenden rested one hand on Rangar’s shoulder. “Watch your back, brother.”
“And you, Val. Don’t fuck up the kingdom.”
“Well. No promises.”
They drummed their fists on each other’s chest, and then it was time for Bryn and Rangar to leave. The sun had sunk an hour before, and snow clouds blanketed the darkening sky. Rangar made a stirrup with his hands to help her mount Fable and then swung himself up on Legend. “Let’s go.”
With a nod to the others, they took off at a trot. Snow stung Bryn’s face as she rode behind Rangar. With the heaviest clouds far out at sea, it looked as though they would outrun the worst of the storm. She focused on her form atop Fable, ensuring she was steady and not holding her muscles so tensely that she’d be sore the following day. Fable had a gentle gait even at a fast pace, and seemed to know where it was safe to tread despite the darkness.
They rode on the valley road for several hours, and then Rangar branched off toward the high southern mountains. The horses climbed a rocky path until they reached a hunting shelter with walls on three sides and a sloping wooden roof.
“We’ll stop here for the night,” Rangar called back to her through the wind.
They dismounted, tethered the horses so they could forage for grass, and then dragged their possessions into the shelter. While Bryn shed her wet, frigid outer clothes, Rangar gathered dry wood that had been stacked in the rear of the shelter and lit a fire with the spark spell.
Shivering, Bryn tugged off her boots. “It wasn’t so bad when we were riding,” she said. “But now that we’ve stopped, I feel as though I’m going to freeze.”
“It’s always warmer when you’re moving and when you have a horse’s heat between your legs.” Crouching under the low ceiling, he knelt beside her and rubbed her arms. “You’ll warm up soon with the fire and some food in you.I’doblige to put some heat between your legs, too.”
Despite the fact that she was still shivering, she gave him a slow smile. “We’ll see about that if I don’t turn to ice.”
Once they were in warm clothes with their riding garments hanging near the fire to dry, Rangar portioned off bread and venison for them, and Bryn was finally able to relax into the thick blanket around her.
Rangar gathered her in his arms, blanket at all, and moved her into his lap. “My strong Baer woman. You don’t let snow and wind stop you.”
“I thought you preferred delicate women.”
“Delicate. Hardy. I’ll take you however you are, Bryn Barendur.”
It felt strange and wonderful to have his surname following hers. The Lindane family name was cursed, and she felt as though she’d shed some ratty old winter coat by taking his instead.
