"Your property is cold and trying not to think about last night," she said, surprising herself with her honesty. "And she needed something to do with her hands."
His expression shifted, something flickering across his features that she couldn't quite name. Understanding, maybe. Or recognition of what she was really doing, fighting back against fear the only way she knew how.
"I see," he said slowly, taking a step toward her. "And you thought assaulting your king would help with that?"
“Jury’s still out,” she replied before she bent down and scooped up another handful of snow. “I need to gather more evidence.” She threw it at him before he could close the distance. This one hit his shoulder.
He stopped again, staring at the snow like she'd done something incomprehensible. Then his lips curved into something that was almost—not quite, but almost—a genuine smile. Not the predatory smirk or the possessive curve she was used to. Something lighter.
"You dare strike me twice?" He bent down, gathering his own handful of snow with deliberate precision. "That requires punishment."
The snowball hit her middle with surprising accuracy, and she let out a surprised laugh, already gathering more ammunition. The sound of her own laughter startled her—when was the last time she'd laughed? Really laughed, not the bitter or desperate kind, but something genuine?
She threw her next attack before he could ready himself, and satisfaction flooded through her when snow exploded against his chest. He looked down at the white splatter, then back at her, and that almost-smile curved his lips again.
He bent smoothly, gathering snow with quick efficiency, and she was already moving, trying to put distance between them while she fumbled for more ammunition. Her throw went wide, sailing past his shoulder into a hedge.
His didn't.
The impact made her stumble, and she was laughing again before she could stop herself, the breathless kind that came from somewhere lighter than the places she'd been living in.
She scooped up more snow, her hands clumsy in the cold, and launched it in his general direction. It fell short by several feet. His next throw caught her as she was bending for more, and she felt the cold impact through the heavy cloak.
"You're showing off," she said, trying to pack the snow tighter.
"I'm merely competent." Another throw, and she barely dodged it, the snowball hitting the ground where she'd been standing a moment before.
She threw two in rapid succession, wild and uncoordinated. Both missed. His answering shot didn't, and she felt it hit somewhere near her shoulder, snow cascading down from the impact.
Her lungs burned from the cold air and laughter. Snow clung to her hair, melted against her face, and her fingers were going numb, but she felt present in a way she hadn't since she had first come to this world. Like she was fully in her body instead of trapped in her head with fear and memories.
Eliam was holding back—she could tell by the way his throws were precise but never too forceful, by the way he aimed for the cloak rather than anywhere more vulnerable. When one of her shots actually connected with his side, she saw genuine surprise cross his face before something else replaced it. Something warm.
She bent to gather more snow, still catching her breath, when she noticed the figure standing motionless on one of the garden paths.
Thaine was staring at them with an expression of pure confusion, like he'd walked into a scene that couldn't possibly be real.
Eliam followed her gaze and immediately straightened, his expression shuttering back to something more controlled. But there was color in his cheeks from the cold and exertion, the gleam of snow in his white hair, and he looked more alive than she'd seen him in days.
"Thaine," Eliam said, his voice returning to its usual controlled tone. "Was there something you needed?"
Thaine's mouth opened, then closed. He looked between them, clearly trying to process what he'd just witnessed. The Forest King. Throwing snowballs.Smiling.
"Prince Arion has called for everyone to gather," Thaine finally managed. "He said it's urgent."
"We'll be there shortly," Eliam said, his hand finding her waist, pulling her against his side.
Thaine nodded and retreated, but not before giving them one more confused look over his shoulder.
They walked back toward the residence in silence, the playfulness from moments before evaporating like the snow melting on her cheeks. Eliam's expression had returned to its usual intensity, though his hand stayed warm on her waist.
"What do you think Arion wants?" she asked quietly.
"To discuss what happened last night. What Malus attempted." His jaw tightened. "And probably to push his case for why you should bind yourself to the Star Court instead."
She remembered Arion's declaration from last night, his promise that he'd take any opportunity to change her mind. The tension between him and Eliam hadn't been resolved, just postponed.
"We need to tell them," she said, her hand rising to her chest. "About the warmth. About what Malus said it is."
