Page 18 of Cold Hearted
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“Have you ever met an ogre?”
“In the Midlands, do pixies’ wings really change colors with their moods?”
“How often do selkies shed their scales?”
“Do children have to do lessons in the Midlands, or do they run wild?”
“Have you ever seen a three-headed unicorn?”
The twins, whose names I learned were Kegan and Kipp, had gotten over their initial shyness at me being Zander’s captive and were rapid-firing questions at me throughout dinner. I shot a glare in Zander’s direction more than once, a silent plea for him to step in, but he only grinned wider, enjoying my discomfort.
Generally speaking, I liked children. I was an only child, so I didn’t have any nieces or nephews, but at home I’d spent some of my free time to helping the castle orphans. As the Summer Court crown princess, next in line to inherit the throne, it was difficult to carve out moments that weren’t devoted directly to my training, but I made the orphans a priority. They might be the most vulnerable in the kingdom, but that didn’t make them the least important. So it wasn’t that the twins were annoying me, but rather that I didn’t know how to answer their questions. I worried that one wrong answer would blow my cover. From some of the confused looks I’d received from Brienne and Zander, I’d wager I’d already slipped up more than once.
Time for a subject change.
I turned to Brienne, pointedly ignoring the last round of questions. “So, will your husband be back soon?” I asked, motioning with my spoon toward the empty chair at the end of the table where there was a clean place setting neatly arranged.
The twins’ voices immediately cut off and Brienne’s face leached of color.
Oh no, what did I say?
I looked at Zander, whose face now appeared set in stone, revealing that I’d made a mistake.
“I’m sorry,” I started. “I didn’t mean—”
“No no,” Brienne said, reaching across the table to squeeze my hand reassuringly. “Please don’t apologize. My husband and Zander’s brother, Cal, is no longer with the living.”
My heartstrings pulled taut. Brienne was older than me, but only by a decade at most. So young to lose a husband and partner. I might have just met her and her boys, but I could tell they were good people, and I instantly felt for them. Not for the first time I prayed Lord Roan was a very distant relative and a giant jerk whose soul was as black as his heart. It pained me to think of hurting them again after they’d already lost someone so important in their lives.
“I’m so sorry,” I said again, ignoring Brienne’s request not to apologize.
“We set a place for him at every meal to remind ourselves that although he’s no longer with us in the physical sense, his spirit lives on in our hearts and minds,” she said with a wobbly smile.
Zander cleared his throat, and when I glanced at him there was a telltale shine to his eyes, showing me just how close he was to his brother. I couldn’t help but wonder how long ago he died or how, but I knew it wasn’t the time to pry.
“Cal lives on in all of us who loved him,” Zander agreed, turning to the now-somber twins and forcing a grin. “Especially these two little ruffians. They’re just as high-spirited and mischievous as their father was at their age.” He leaned forward, his voice becoming serious. “Did I ever tell you two about the time your father and I got lost in the Blood Forest for a night?”
Their eyes widened at the mention of the Blood Forest. They shared a look before shaking their heads.
“No one can survive a night in the Blood Forest,” Kipp said. Or maybe it was Kegan?
I’d never heard of or read anything in the previous champions’ journals about the Blood Forest, but from the twins’ reaction it was a place I never wanted to visit. Zander’s story included wolf shifters, ghosts, spellcasters who wielded black magic, and monsters whose favorite food was fae intestines. I wouldn’t be sad at all if I made it out of Ethereum without visiting the vile place.
Zander distracted the boys for the rest of the meal with tales about escaping certain death with Cal in the Blood Forest and other adventures throughout their childhood. Every story seemed more unbelievable than the next and made their father sound like a valiant hero. I had suspicions about how much of the tales were fact versus fiction, but who really cared? The twins ate up each and every morsel of Zander’s stories, and I could tell everyone’s hearts were lighter by the meal’s conclusion.
Standing, I grabbed my plate and thanked Brienne for the dinner, telling her how delicious it was before insisting on helping with the cleanup. I smiled ruefully when I imagined my mother’s face if she saw me clearing plates and wiping down the table. She’d be horrified to see me doing such menial tasks. She considered chores like this beneath a princess, but it was a way I could show Brienne my appreciation for the meal and lodging, and I never minded a little honest work.
As I was drying plates with Kegan in the kitchen, I overheard Brienne from the dining table.
“How are things with the rebel invasion?” she whispered to Zander, but not quietly enough. Zander cast a wary glance in my direction before pulling Brienne into the other room to answer her.
Rebel invasion. What was that all about?
Later that night, I was still mulling over the evening’s revelations as I washed my face in the bathroom, and then slipped into one of Brienne’s nightgowns that she’d also given me. The woman was beyond kind. The soft white cotton covered me from neck to ankle and draped halfway down each arm, but it was slightly see-through and thin. I paused before opening the door to the bedroom, feeling funny about standing in front of Zander in the somewhat sheer nightwear. That was until I remembered he’d watched me undress on the other side of the blanket barrier the night before. He’d already seen it all. My awkward embarrassment morphed into irritation then, giving me the courage to exit the bathroom.
I was relieved to see Zander already laid out on the floor beside the bed, a single pillow under his head and a thin blanket beneath him. I’d honestly expected an argument about the sleeping arrangements.
