The two of us have ridden out to the Ambardon Moors, a section of sprawling golden hills, in search of more winter wraiths. Following a trail of frost, we’d found more than we bargained for. A whole herd of winter wraiths ambling across the grasslands, their blighted frost trailing them with each step.
We’d lost our steeds between the twelfth and twentieth wraith we killed. I feel my power weakening. And Ezryn’s panting with each strike of his flaming blade, imbued with oil, not magic. The pounding rain isn’t helping.
More amble toward us, their dead eyes so intent for creatures of ice and rot.
“Where are you bastards coming from?” I charge them. I’d gone to patrol the border between Autumn and Winter only a few days ago, but Perth’s report was true. None of Winter’s border villages have been attacked by the frost.
Ezryn runs beside me, but he slips on the frosted grass.
“Ez!” I call as he falls, tumbling over himself down the icy hill. He lands in a metal heap, adjusting his helmet as he sits up. But his sword’s flame went out in the fall. With a growl, I turn away from the wraiths in front of me and sprint toward him.
But there are blights at the bottom of the knoll, shuffling on their stiff legs. His hands move frantically, pulling out the vial of oil and pouring it over his blade, then trying to light a match. Water sloshes down his helm. The flame flicks, then dies, flicks, then dies.
Why didn’t you learn the magic? I think. Stubborn bastard.
He can’t get the match to ignite, and one wraith moves with astonishing speed, rushing on top of him. Fractals of frost glitter from its fingertips as it reaches for his helm. Ez holds up his hands to stop the creature—
But I launch a blue flaming orb at its head. The projectile connects, and the abomination shrieks, clutching its blazing face.
I skid on the ice next to Ez and yank him to his feet. We stand back-to-back, trapped in the valley between two frosted hills as more wraiths pour down on either side.
“Thanks for the save,” Ez says.
“I just bought you a little more time.”
We raise our swords defensively, moving with the synchronization that only two people who have fought together in hundreds of battles could achieve. “I take the east hill, you take the west?” he asks.
“And we’ll hope Farron can find our frozen corpses,” I grunt.
A strange melancholy floods through me. Ezryn and I have been in countless impossible situations before. We’ve been outnumbered by fae, by goblins, by monstrosities so vile I dare not think of them any longer.
But facing these wraiths swarming down the hills… For the first time, fear flickers in my chest.
Fear strong enough that I wonder if Rosalina can feel it.
There’s no way I’ll allow myself to fall here. Not when I still have a duty to protect her. Even those nights surrounded by my brothers and wrapped in her warm arms, I never allowed myself to fall asleep before she did.
I know I make her feel alone. But that’s the only way I can truly shield her.
But even I have my limits. I look to Ezryn. There are so many things I should have said. We’ve been in the Autumn Realm for two months now; I’ve had more than enough time.
But I still have a chance to make at least one right.
Ezryn’s body tenses against mine, and I know he’s readying to charge into the fray.
“Ez,” I say. “I’m so—”
A screech fills the air, not of a wraith but of an animal. A high-pitched cry. Then arrows cascade around us, tipped with flames.
One wraith goes down, then another. I look up to the sky. The giant white wings of an owl crest through the clouds. Atop the beast, a fae ranger clad in blue fur peers over the feathers, bow drawn. She unleashes another fiery arrow.
A rumble sounds and the ground shakes.
A shadowy silhouette of cavalry thunders over the hill and into the valley toward us. They ride a variety of creatures, and my heart pounds with anticipation. Reindeers storm at the forefront with antlers raised high, while the rear guard is comprised of lumbering polar bears. Giant white foxes dart in and out of the formation with ease. And leading the troop is a massive moose, its mighty legs propelling down the hill with grace and power.
Atop each of these beasts is a fae soldier, dressed in the sapphire blue regalia of Winter.
The soldiers rip through the wraiths, distracting them with blade and spear and rounding them into a tight circle. From above, the ranger atop the snowy owl shoots flaming arrows into the mix. A rider on a polar bear throws a flask into the ring of wraiths, and blue fire explodes around them. Whatever they’ve done to their weapons has made their fire impervious to the relentless downfall.
Ezryn and I back up against each other. “It’s the Kryodian Riders,” I breathe.
47
Farron
I haven’t seen a storm like this in years. The clouds, heavy with rain, loom low over the realmlands, sparking with lightning. Rosalina sits in front of me atop my great elk, Thrand. Her white mare, spooked by the thunder, trots behind us on a lead.
“This certainly came on quickly,” Rosalina calls above the wind.
When we embarked this morning, the sky had been clear, that gray-blue color I’ve only seen in this realm. Rosalina and I had set forth to a village frozen by one of those wraiths.
Kel had barely batted an eye at Rosalina and I traveling alone. He trusts me, I realize. He trusts that my magic is enough to protect his mate. A warmth blooms in my chest.
With Autumn’s Blessing, I’m the only one strong enough to unfreeze an entire village on my own. With the rest of our forces spread thin, I’m happy to take these missions. Traveling to the village today took the better part of the morning, but the relieved faces of the citizens had been worth it.
As grateful as the villagers were for my magic and presence, it was Rosalina who had truly comforted them. There was a feeling of harmony in the way she handed out the supplies, a trust and comfort in her words that didn’t sound forced but brimmed with genuine optimism. I might have used my flames to clear the frost, but Rosalina left something else gleaming in their eyes.
The spark of hope.
It’s her faith in all of us to make this right, I think. Her faith in me.
Faith that I’ve had a hard time finding lately.
“The weather can be temperamental here. The storm probably won’t last long.” I urge my steed forward. His giant hooves splatter in the mud. The wind pelts my face, and my clothes are completely drenched.
And not just mine. Rosalina’s beige tunic is soaked, and through the light material, I see the dark shape of her pointed nipples. My thoughts run wild with need. I want to spin her around, take her breast in my mouth, wet fabric and all, and suck her until she’s aching.
My elk starts up a rocky incline, and the shift in gravity presses Rosie flush against me. My riding pants do little to hide my engorged cock as it rubs against her ass.
“Oh.” Rosalina lets out a breathy sound, and it’s as if she’s deciding on whether to move away. Her hand drifts up into the rain. “There’s beauty to the storm, isn’t there? Something wild and uninhibited.”
“You mean dangerous,” I say.
“Or is it only perceived that way? Storms renew ecosystems, enrich the soil, and help prevent fires. The calamity of a storm heals.” She leans against me, pushing herself into my bulge. “Imagine being that way: wild and unafraid, if only while the rain falls.”
“A stroke of lightning,” I murmur, my hands moving around her body. “A flash, and then it’s gone.”
“But what a flash it could be.” Her voice is low, hungry.
I know what she’s doing. These moments alone together have only made me doubt when I failed to touch her in the hot springs or when I couldn’t kiss her at the burned library.
My logical brain knows I made the right choices then.
But while the rain falls…
“Hold these for a moment.” I hand her the reins. Thrand is so well-trained he doesn’t require much guidance. “I should stretch.”
I splay my fingers on her soft stomach. She leans her head back against my chest, admiring the scenery. The red and gold trees bend and creak, their branches lashing out in the gale. Bursts of lightning illuminate the dark noon sky.