Alarik felt himself relax. ‘It’s good to see you, Greenrock.’
‘You too, Felsing. Even if you do look a bit worse for wear.’
He went to the window and perched on the sill. ‘It’s been an eventful few months.’
‘I could tell by your mountains.’ She sat down beside him, kicking her legs out. Her boots were scuffed from travelling, her leathers damp from the falling snow. It had curled the dark strands that slipped free of her silver-streaked braid and brought a pinkness to her cheeks.Wren Greenrock didn’t quite look like a queen – not like her sister, Queen Rose, who was ever the picture of poise and elegance – but even so, there was something undeniably regal about Wren, an innate ancient power that simmered in her veins. A sense that she belonged exactly where she had ended up – on a throne beside her sister, and with her beloved Tor at her side.
‘You could have told me you were going to war,’ she said, her expression sobering. ‘You have a strong ally to the south. Witches, Alarik. Twin queens who are both fierce andverybeautiful.’
He gave her a half-smile. ‘As much as I revere the impressive and franklyhorrifyingreaches of your magic, Gevra has to be able to stand on its own two feet. If I can’t fend off the threat of invasion from a neighbouring country without the magic of another kingdom, then what future does Gevra truly have? You and your witches cannot stand at my borders forever, Wren.’
‘That does sound rather boring,’ she said, pouting. ‘As much as I like to make snow angels.’
‘And that’s to say nothing of frostbite,’ he added.
‘I understand your reasons,’ she said, after a moment. ‘But the offer stands. If you call on Eana for aid, Eana will come.’
‘I know that, Wren. I’ve always known that.’
‘You’re just too stubborn for your own good.’
He hummed in agreement. Perhaps there was that, too.
‘Do you love her?’ she said, into the falling silence.
He nodded. ‘Desperately.’
‘How do you know?’
He arched a brow. ‘Do you think me incapable of it?’
‘Well, you’re not exactly an emotional creature.’
He snorted. Then laid his head against the window, considering her question. ‘Before Greta, the last person – theonlyperson – I’ve ever felt any sort of feelings for was you.’
‘Well, you are only human.’
He chuckled. It was no longer an uncomfortable truth, but a strange memory. A brief period of time when Alarik’s feelings had become tangled with an ancient curse, causing a close bond between them that had stirred up unexpected emotions for him.
‘That feels like a lifetime ago now,’ he murmured, and she nodded in agreement.
‘Back then, I always wanted to best you,’ he went on. ‘To say the smarter thing, the funnier joke. I wanted to be brave and invulnerable. Someone who impressed you.’ He paused, trying to give voice to the feelings he had for his wrangler, and the bonfire she had made of his heart. ‘But with Greta … I want to be utterly myself. Not funny or clever or fearless, but honest. I want her to know every part of me, just as I want to know every part of her.’
He smiled at how easily the words came, freed at last from the tip of his tongue. ‘Every day, I marvel at her empathy and humanity, her boundless love for the challenge of life. I want to learn from her, to be the kind of man that deserves her friendship.’ But it was bigger than that, still, this kind of love. ‘She makes me proud to be a Gevran, Wren. She makes me want to serve this kingdom with utter devotion, so that people like her can inherit it.’
Wren stared at him like she had never seen him before. ‘That wasverymushy. Ansel would be proud.’
He huffed a laugh. ‘And Tor would probably drown me.’
‘No way,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘After a declaration like that, Tor would walk you down the aisle himself.’
Alarik’s face fell. There could be no aisle, no wedding, no forever with Greta. No matter how badly he yearned for it, he was promised to another bride. Another kingdom, whose soldiers had already fallen in his battle. By the pitying look on his friend’s face, he knew she had heard about Princess Elva, and the impossibility of his situation.
‘Are you going to tell Greta how you feel?’
He shook his head. ‘What can I offer her?’
What was his heart worth, without his hand? Without his crown?
