Page 140 of Sword & Sacrifice

They still always woke up together though, so Valerian’s sudden absence made Penn’s chest tighten with panic. What if Alistair never really died? What if he’s been biding his time until we all let our guard down? He clawed at the sheets beside him, noting that they were still warm, so Val wouldn’t have gotten far.

Penn threw the blankets off of him, exposing his naked limbs to the chill morning, already running through a list of places Valerian might be.

Only to pause when he saw the figure at the window.

White flakes swirled and danced in the wind beyond the glass. The first snow of winter.

“It’s beautiful,” Valerian said, his voice soft with reverence. He’d only put on a pair of pants, leaving his torso naked, exposing the overlapping scars on his back. At night, when he was alone with Penn, he’d started taking off the glamoured ring. There were no more secrets between them. Everything Val knew of himself, Penn knew now too.

Penn wrapped the blanket around his shoulders and joined Val at the window. “Have you ever seen snow before?”

“I don’t know.”

Penn flinched. It was a question he would have asked anyone who hadn’t grown up on the mountains, but he hadn’t considered the implications of asking someone who’d lost most of themselves. He opened his mouth to apologize when a delighted laugh interrupted him.

“Isn’t that wonderful? To experience something so beautiful for the first time again.”

Penn glanced at Valerian, instinctively checking his eyes—hazel—and stared in awe for a moment at the genuine smile lighting up his face. Maybe losing his memories was a good thing? Penn flinched at the thought, guilt immediately overshadowing his joy. Of course it wasn’t a good thing. Those memories were a part of him, good or bad.

A firm hand grasped Penn’s chin and raised it until he locked eyes with Valerian. “None of that,” he scolded before pressing a gentle kiss to Penn’s lips. “I made my choices, I know that much.”

“Choices you wouldn’t have needed to make if I’d saved you sooner,” Penn replied.

“Or if you’d killed me as Adelaide wanted.” Val slipped an arm under Penn’s blanket shroud, pulling him close. His skin was surprisingly warm against Penn’s despite standing half-naked at the window. These days, he always seemed to run hot, like the fires still burned somewhere inside him. “We both survived and that’s all I wanted.”

“But—”

Valerian cut Penn off with a kiss, holding him in place so he couldn’t do anything but accept the hot tongue exploring his mouth. Eventually, he relaxed into the touch, kissing Valerian back with equal fervor.

When they finally pulled away, they were both a little short of breath. “You know what I want to do now?” Valerian murmured against Penn’s lips. He ran his hands down Penn’s naked back, tracing his spine with gentle fingers that made him shiver. “Something to warm us up, get our blood pumping …”

Penn grinned and nodded. “I know exactly what we should do.”

Valerian leaned down for another kiss, but Penn slipped out of his grip. All he ended up holding onto was the blanket.

“A snowball fight,” Penn declared. “So you can have the full experience of an Arnsveldian winter.”

The bemusement in Valerian’s expression quickly turned to excitement. “Do I get a prize if I win the fight?”

“Of course,” Penn replied as he walked to his wardrobe. He tossed a grin over his shoulder and added, “But you’re not going to win.”

They bundled up in several layers of warm clothes—a task that took twice as long as usual, with Valerian constantly trying to strip the layers back off Penn and planting mischievous kisses along his skin—and headed outside. Sometime during the night, it had snowed six inches. They waded through the thick, fluffy snow, out into Penn’s yard.

“So, what you want to do,” Penn began, bending down to gather snow into his gloved hands. He’d barely started forming the ball when something cold smacked into his ass. Whirling around, he saw that Valerian had somehow already gathered a small pile of perfectly spherical snowballs at his feet. “You can’t use magic! That’s cheating!”

“Is it?” Valerian asked with a deceptively innocent expression. “I’m just practicing what I learned from my grimoires.”

“Half the fun is making them by hand,” Penn scolded. “Get rid of those.”

“All right,” Valerian said, bending down to scoop the pile into his hands.

Penn should have known Valerian’s easy agreement was a trick, but he still yelped when the first snowball hurtled toward him. He dodged to the side, scowling, then bent down, grabbed a fistful of snow, and chucked it right at Valerian’s head.

Since he was holding the snowballs, Valerian couldn’t defend himself, and the snow struck him, bursting against his borrowed wool hat, knocking it slightly askew.

Laughing in triumph, Penn scooped up more snow as rapidly as he could, caring less about form and more about speed as they tossed snowballs back and forth. With each new toss, he jogged back a few steps, determined to put some distance between himself and Valerian. Once he finally had the cottage between them, he knelt down and rapidly began forming a small stockpile of ammunition.

After about five minutes and too many snowballs to count, he realized Valerian hadn’t chased after him. Suspicious, Penn gathered up as many snowballs as he could carry and crept around the side of the house.