Late that afternoon, when we break to set up camp, Nephele, Hel, and I unsaddle our horses to give them a rest. The dusky sky is choking back a downpour that we’re all too tired to endure.
“I wish you’d told me you were going to check on Alexus this morning,” Nephele says, unfastening the girth straps from her horse’s saddle.
“Agreed,” Hel adds, leading her animal from a rootbound patch of earth to more level ground. “We’re a team. The next time the men try to pull one over on us, let’s show them that they can’t.”
“I understand Alexus’s need to keep things quiet,” Nephele says, flashing her eyes at me. “But you are not alone. Before you go tearing into any battle by yourself, be sure we’re at your side. We’re stronger together than apart.”
Pressing my lips into a thin, guilty line, I tilt my head and nod.
“Tuethas tah,” Hel says and signs the words. Nephele and I smile and do the same.
Tuethas tah. It’s not just my sister anymore. But my sisters.
We work in silence for a few minutes, until Nephele clears her throat. When I look at her, I notice her cheeks are warm with a flush.
“I need to explain what Joran said the other night.” Nephele’s voice is tight as she hefts her saddle from her horse and sits it on a bed of brown leaves and pine needles.
I take a deep breath and glance at a wide-eyed Hel. Nephele has avoided this conversation since Joran mentioned their past relationship. In her defense, I wouldn’t want to talk about it either.
“I loathe him,” she says, peering over her animal’s back where Joran stands across the road, unloading his pack from his horse. “It was just once.”
“Just once?” Hel asks, smiling. “It didn’t sound like it was just once.”
“All right, three times, damn it. But just one night. Last year, after a wedding at Winterhold. I’d had far too much wine.”
Smiling, Hel removes the saddle cloth from her horse’s back and runs her hand along its flanks. “Obviously.”
“He is quite handsome,” I sign, trying to make Nephele feel better. Sex with Joran has to be a regret.
“And a part of me is drawn to that, unfortunately.” She keeps her voice low. “Pale hair, a brazen attitude, and a big cock are my weakness with men, especially when they’re not talking. But I’d need to gut him and start all over in order to tolerate him on a normal basis. He’s a rotten-hearted prick.”
Hel laughs but then groans. “Gods, now I’m going to think about what’s between Joran’s legs every time I look at him. Disgusting.”
I smile, but I’m still surprised that Nephele slept with the Icelander at all, last year no less. I saw the way she and Colden looked at one another. The adoration.
“Why be with him, then?” I sign. “What about Colden?”
Finished with her horse, Nephele strolls over and strokes Tuck’s white mane. “What about him? He wants me to find a special someone, though we both agree that Joran is not him.”
My eyebrows rise of their own volition. “I thought that special someone was Colden.”
“Me too,” Hel says.
“No. Colden is special. We love one another dearly. But for me, he’s safe and easy. For him, I’m comfortable. Someone he can trust. We have fun, but there have been others for us both.”
“Well, I’ll add that to the list of surprises when it comes to Colden Moeshka,” Hel says, shaking her head.
Nephele furrows her brow. “What do you mean?”
Hel turns toward my sister, one arm slung over her horse’s back. “He wasn’t what I imagined when we came face to face on Winter Road. For my whole life, I pictured the Frost King as an old man. I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact that he’s not only young and beautiful but also a warrior, even though I saw it all in action with my own eyes. Now you’re telling me he’s fun too, when I pictured a serious, sour-faced king whose greatest skill was wielding a table knife.”
“Ah,” Nephele says. “Understandable. I remember feeling similarly the first time I saw him. I was stunned.” She grins at the memory. “But Colden doesn’t allow silence for long. He’s quite the character, and yes, quite the soldier. Magickless or not, I expect him to outsmart the prince and find his way to freedom.”
Gods, I pray to Loria that he does. But my mind clings to the rest of Nephele’s words because I had no idea their relationship was like this. Though I suppose I should have. When Alexus first told me about Nephele and the Frost King, he called my sister Colden’s high servant and paramour. His right hand and lover. Not a partner. It was me who defined what exists between them before understanding the truth. And I, of all people, should know that things don’t always appear as they seem.
Still, I can’t imagine sharing Alexus. The thought of someone else being with him now the way that I am—touching him, kissing him, fucking him—makes my chest tighten and my blood heat.
“I like our arrangement,” Nephele says, and I hear the truth in her words. “Colden and I are… different. He would never admit it, but I believe he aches for something immortality has stolen from him. A chance to spend a normal lifetime with someone he loves without the promise that he will eventually face their loss day after day for however long he might live. As for me, I’m not made for tenderness. Not the kind you and Alexus share, anyway. I know the rune’s bond is part of that, but I can see an intimacy between you two that I can’t fathom feeling for another person. Though I admire it.”
