She laid her hands upon his head. A shock shuddered through him. He lifted his head in stunned surprise, reaching for her wrists, holding her palms to his face as power—her power—poured into him.
Her eyes went silver, shining bright in the darkness of her face.
His back arched. What she gave him was like his mother’s gift and Gabriella’s, and yet so different. His mother’s gift and Gabriella’s felt like lava poured from the center of a volcano. This was crackling ropes of lightning called from the heart of some great storm.
It fed him and lashed him, roiling and clashing inside him, a tempest, angry and wild and deadly powerful.
Around him, the Wintermen yanked swords from scabbards and leapt towards him, shouting, “Release her, Merimydion!”
Ice crusted on his back. A roar, the enraged howl of a terrible beast, shook the room.
He felt them all—Wynter and his men—lunging towards him. The awareness was exactly like his sea sense, as if the air had turned to water and they were frenzied sharks darting in for the kill.
He released Khamsin’s wrists and flung out his hands. His fingers splayed, and her power pulsed from his palms, rolling out from him like ripples in a pond. His attackers flew back, tossed away on that invisible wave.
They leapt back to their feet, and he crouched, snarling, prepared to destroy them.
“Stop!” Khamsin’s voice lashed the room like a whip of lightning.
Dilys froze, panting. His body trembled with scarcely contained violence. The urge to kill was a red haze veiling his mind, but she who had given him this strange, electric power that roared through him had commanded him to stop.
“Dilys! Wynter! All of you! Stop it this instant! Put your weapons down. Now!”
Dilys was unarmed but not weaponless. With effort, he sheathed his claws and calmed the wild, mad, turbulent power boiling inside him.
As he did so, Wynter snatched Khamsin out of her chair and thrust her behind him, shielding her with his body. “Are you all right,min ros?” he asked in a harsh whisper. His eyes—now pure white from the deadly magic he hadnottucked safely back away—remained fixed on Dilys.
“I’m fine,” she assured him. Her slender brown hand stroked his arm in a calming caress. “It’s all right, Wyn. I’m fine. He wasn’t hurting me.”
“Then perhaps he can explain”—Wynter’s voice grew colder and more forceful—“what thefarkhe was doing?”
Dilys straightened from his crouch and forced his muscles to unclench. “She granted me her blessing to go after her sisters,” he said. “And she shared with me her power so that I might use it to bring them home.” He bowed respectfully in her direction, though she was still almost completely shielded by her husband. “My thanks, Khamsin of the Storms. Your gifts are powerful indeed. They will serve me well. I promise you I will find your sisters, and I will bring them home.” To Wynter, he said, “Call off your guards and get out of my way.”
“Wait just a frosted minute.”
Dilys’s temper snapped. His claws, which he had retracted, shot from his fingertips once more. “Enough! Every moment you delay, mylianaand her sisters are at risk. Your queen has given me her trust and her blessing. I am going. I do not want war with Wintercraig, but war there will be if you do not get out of my way. Now,MOVE.” The last word vibrated with Command.
In startled unison, every Winterman standing between Dilys and the door moved aside.
He rushed through the cleared path and out the door.
Behind him came the sound of swearing, then the clatter of boots on stone as Wynter and his White Guards gave chase.
“Merimydion! Damn it. Merimydion, you blue bastard, stop!”
Dilys paused at the door that led outside to the gardens. “No, I will not stop. I’m going to the fjord to make the sea give up its secrets, and then I’m going after Gabriella and her sisters. You release my men and tell them to meet me at our ships. We sail within the hour. I will not break my vow to yourliana.But if it makes you feel more at ease, you may send men from your White Guard with me when we sail—up to a dozen per ship. I have seen them fight. They will not be a burden. Do not bother with your Ice Gaze and do not make further attempts to stop me. Neither will work. Your wife shared her gifts with me, and I will use them if I must.”
The Winter King glared at him in a mixture of outrage, confusion, and fury. “What do you mean my wife shared her gifts with you? And what thefarkdid you do to us back there?”
Dilys tamped down the urge to strike out. The Winter King was wasting time Dilys did not have—time Gabriella and the Seasons did not have. “Free my men. Send them to my ships, along with what men you wish to accompany us.” He hesitated, then to ensure that Wynter would leave him in peace, he surrendered the news that had come to him along with Khamsin Atrialan’s power. “And tend to yourliana,Atrialan. Your children have decided to be born now.”
After a moment of shocked blustering, Wynter Atrialan barked out orders to free Dilys’s men and dispatched several dozen White Guards to set sail with them. Then he fixed Dilys with a last hard look, his gaze sharp enough to cut glass.
“Do not fail us, Merimydion. Find the Seasons and bring them home.”
Having won, Dilys decided he could spare a moment to be gracious. He inclined his head. “My men and I will track them to the farthest corners of Mystral if we must. One way or another, Wynter of the Craig, we will bring yourliana’s sisters home.”
Wynter returned a curt nod, then spun on his heel and abandoned all pretense of calm to go racing back to his wife, his long legs making short work of the distance between them.
