Followed by Fros(71)

I lifted my hand to touch his, but fear urged me to drop it. “Tomorrow—”

“They will wait for you, if you wish it.”

I swallowed, my throat sore and tight. “I’m sorry,” I whispered.

But he shook his head. “You have nothing to apologize for. Please, for once, consider yourself before me or anyone else.” He pulled his hand away, and I grew cold without it—a different kind of cold than what had plagued me for four years. A hollow, winding cold. “Take your time. I will be waiting.”

He stood and moved for the door. I reached for him but not before he had vanished from my sight, the door closing between us. A door only I could open. I stared at it a long time, empty and lost, tears running steady rivers down my cheeks.

My crying and the sludge of emotions fatigued me greatly, but I did not sleep that night. I felt a heavy scale hanging from either arm. I only needed to lean one way or another, but which way was right?

I questioned if my conversation with Lo had actually happened, or if I were in some cruel torrent of a dream. Loved me. He loved me. The most remarkable, kind, generous, and beautiful man I had ever known loved me. I could not have mistranslated his words, for he had spoken them in Northlander.

Yet the shadow of the curse haunted me, and even with my windows open and the night’s warm breeze filtering into the room, it only took closing my eyes to feel my blood turn to ice, to feel the unyielding sting of winter on my skin, to see the gloom of that perpetual storm over my head. I feared that, should my curse return, I would never be rid of it again. I would never feel the sun on my face or the warmth of a bed. I would never enjoy a meal or a bath. I would never see my family or Euwan. And I would never savor the touch of Lo’s hand on my cheek, for he would be unable to touch me without a shield.

But the love I held for him defied everything I knew. I had fancied men before, but never had I experienced a sentiment like this, a passion that could rip me in two if I breathed too quickly.

I stood and paced the room by starlight, the thick fibers of the carpeting brushing my feet, nearly healed of their cold-caused cracks. Healed. I hugged myself, warm arms against a warm chest with a lively, if vexed, heart. Could I risk losing that now that I was whole?

Yet Lo had shamed himself and broken a centuries-long tradition for the sake of being with a woman whom he believed had no chance of being normal again. But no matter how strong his feelings for me, no man could be happy with a woman followed by frost, who could not be intimate with him or bear him children, who could not so much as sit down for tea without summoning the sharp winds and frigid snows of a deep-winter tempest.

I considered my curse and recited Mordan’s wording of it over and over again to a dark room lit by a single candle, but I found nothing within it to help me. When a curse broke, was it gone? Or could the breaking be undone, just as the curse had been undone? Did a curse last forever, lingering in remission like a lifelong disease, or could it be cured for good? Did my curse have a treatment, or an antidote?

I dressed and left my room with the first light of dawn, the sun still well hidden behind Zareed’s sandy hills and jagged mountains. I passed several guards on duty, none of which were Lo. Fortunately the guards did not ask me to explain myself—I had proven my loyalty to Imad—and let me outside without question.

A cooler breeze caressed my face as I descended the steps into a dim and empty city. I adjusted my head scarf. I had no specific destination in mind; I merely walked east, keeping the jagged mountains behind the palace close to my right as my guide.

My thoughts ran rampant. I had already given up Lo once. I should be content with that and return to my home. But hadn’t I already given up that, too? My home, my family, my life before Mordan? My winter had given water to Zareed. What if Imad had miscalculated, and the drought lasted through next year, and the next, and the next?

I looked out over the brick homes and canvas tents of the city, large and small, lit by a growing, rosy light. If my curse returned, I could continue to help Zareed and its people. They would never go hungry or thirsty again. Lo, Imad, Aamina, Eyan . . . all of them. I could care for them until death claimed me.

My steps slowed. The pain and the cold would be with me forever, and with them, Sadriel. I owed Sadriel a great debt, in the end, but could I knowingly invite Death back into my life, and into Lo’s? Could I balance those two men, one who could kill me and one whom I could kill? I thought of the hunter from the mountains and grimaced.

Pausing in my walk, I found myself near a natural alcove in the rocks, a camel stable not far to my left. One of the great animals regarded me briefly. No fear in its eyes. I peered toward the eastern horizon, red and pink and gold. The sunrises here were so beautiful. So full of color. As I watched, the first sliver of sunlight slipped over the horizon, washing away shadows and fighting back the deep blue of night. It touched me, and I closed my eyes, savoring its warmth. The sun on my face. That had been Lo’s wish for me.

I returned to the palace as the city awakened, my body weary and begging me for rest. After slipping through the entrance, I started up the grand stairs to the second floor just as the new shift of guards came to replace the ones at the door. I turned back and spied Lo among them. My stomach fluttered. He looked tired, older. He must not have slept, either.

He glanced my way, unsurprised to see me. Our eyes met, and in his I saw a strange depth, as though I stared into a black and stormy sea. Pressing my lips together, I turned away and hurried up the stairs, a hard lump rising in my throat.