He was made warmer by her presence in his lap when they rode together. But he could make her warmer by shedding his cloak and wrapping it around her—which he did.
“I’m fine, I have no need!” she protested.
“It’s a matter of practicality. That’s a good warm cloak, leather and fur, three layers thick. I won’t be needing it.” Girion said as he halted the horse and slid from it.
“If you would avert your eyes, I will change. I will run alongside—in my other form.”
Jocasta nodded and wheeled the horse around.
He appreciated that she didn’t question, protest, or act afraid at the thought of a giant polar bear. He began to unbutton his shirt.
“Won’t you get cold? Colder?”
“No, this is very refreshing.”
“Our child, if we have one—when we must have an heir—he’ll be a shifter?”
“Yes. Only one parent needs to be a shifter for the child to be able to shift, too.”
“You won’t startle the horse?”
“Not this horse. I’ve raised this horse since he was a colt. Now, all you have to do is follow me,” Girion slid his now discarded clothes into the saddle bag nearest him, “and bring the horse to a stop when we near the city gates of Tundra Springs. We will go in together, I leading the horse in my human form, but there will not be some great fanfare. I prefer this to be done quietly, and I will tell you all about the reasons for such quiet tomorrow. Tonight, we must arrive and settle you in, as discreetly as possible.” He hesitated, shivering as the snow settled on his skin. “It is not because I’m not pleased that you are here.”
“Thank you, sire. I didn’t think that.”
“Good.” He stepped back, well away from the horse.
“Won’t there be servants who talk?”
“Not in my household. Our household. They are loyal—and to be honest, there are not as many servants as there are guards. Without a queen, there is less feasting, less merriment. But that will change with you.”
WHATEVER SHE WAS GOINGto say in response to his declaration that her presence would lead to more feasting and merriment was swallowed up as she heard the ripping, popping sounds of bones and skin rearranging, a man becoming a beast. An enormous white bear, several feet taller than the massive horse she was riding, reared up in a stretch, letting out a single bellowing roar—and then dropped to all fours, stretched and rolled in the snow like a cub, and took off running.
“Whoa!” Jo yelped as the horse took off, too. He seemed to recognize his master in all forms and was thrilled that he had a chance to race with him.
She couldn’t help but smile as the horse capered and the giant bear ran, sometimes looking back to see his equine companion and giving a short grunt or low bellow, then waiting until they’d caught up to each other to race again.
This is a dream. An amazing dream, Jo thought as the barren landscape turned into glowing silhouettes of city spires and steeples, the palace looming up high, on a rise of craggy, icy peaks. The city walls were lit with torches at intervals, and she could begin to make out the shapes of guards on them—Bearfolk and human.
The moon was high and lavender, and the snow was gentle here, not the howling, clawing beast that had been surrounding her home lately.
“It’s so beautiful!” she shouted into the wind, and Girion skidded, sending up a spray of snow.
He looked at her, blue eyes in white fur, cavernous mouth panting—and then forming into a smile.
“I have never been farther than Frost Hills in my entire life, unless you count sailing out to sea. This ... It’s beautiful. And the snow is softer here. The air is warmer the closer we get to the city.”
The big head nodded, and the bear rose, towering over her and the horse.
Girion walked on his hind legs, his long, dagger-like claws careful as they came to rest on the side of the horse’s neck. He said nothing, but he looked at her, and that smile was there.
Jo swallowed a gasp when he placed his paw out. It covered her entire thigh, which was not a small thing. He turned it over, rough, scarred black pads facing up.
It was like an instinct, something she understood without words. She put her hand against the mighty paw and squeezed. “Beautiful,” she repeated.
BY ALL THE SNOWS, SHEis beautiful. In moonlight, in snow, in starlight, with her wondering eyes, and the fearless way she places her hand in mine...
His heart was beating in a way that had nothing to do with the exertion of running for miles.
