Page 6 of Omen of ice
Roriel’s delicate laughter sounds like wind chimes, but there’s a cutting undertone to it. “Silly Aphelian. You’ve no need of a weapon in the Winter Lord’s estate! Valen is beloved. No one would dare harm a hair on his handsome head.”
I hold my tongue. If that were true, I wouldn’t be here.
A knock sounds at the door. A moment later, Kopic pokes his head into the room. “Is she ready yet? They’re waiting for her.”
Roriel sighs. She fiddles with the tiny white flowers she’s woven into my long hair, then steps aside. “Take her. There’s not much else I can do with”—she makes a sweeping gesture in my direction and scrunches up her nose—“this.”
An acidic retort lingers on my tongue, but I bite down hard to keep it from spilling out. Give me five minutes alone with her, and I’ll show her what she could do withthis. Or more accurately, whatthiscould do withher.
No. Breathe. I’m here for Valen. This particular Fae’s snobbish opinions don’t matter.
Kopic leads me into the hall and steers me toward a winding glass staircase while sneaking sidelong glances every few moments. “You look…interesting. You present better than expected.”
“What were you expecting, exactly?” I haven’t met many Winter Fae yet, but so far, Kopic has been the friendliest. No one has been outwardly rude, but I expected more fanfare. Growing up, I heard tales of Aphelians arriving to long paths of rose petals, feasts lasting for several days—even a parade. All I can think is,Alainya would be so disappointed if she were standing here in my place. I hope her new assignment is all she dreamed it would be. Gifts and parties and perfection.
To me, things aren’t relevant. In fact, I’m actually relieved there’s no huge fuss. I’ve never been one for attention. It used to make me uncomfortable when Levina insisted I take the center ring and demonstrate maneuvers for my cousins. Their eyes, their expectations… There were only four of us, but that was three too many. It will be nice knowing that my only responsibility is to Valen going forward.
“You’re new, I take it?” Kopic slows his pace but doesn’t stop. “I only see your induction sigil.”
“I was anointed just before we left Lunal.” The sigil on my forehead itches, almost as if responding to his question. “I look forward to adding more.”
“I’ve always wondered how the druids felt about them.” Kopic chuckles. “We Fae are, dare I say, quite shallow when it comes to our beauty. Intentionally marking our bodies? Most would sooner die.”
“The sigils are badges of honor,” I tell him. “Visible proof that we carry forth the bond between Servis and Aphelian.”
Kopic frowns. For a moment, it seems like he might say more, but instead, he focuses on the hallway ahead of us and quickens his pace. “You can relax, you know. You don’t need to be so…official.”
“I’m sorry?”
“Well, the whole bond thing. Honor, duty, and so on.” He stops walking and turns to me. “A little advice, if I may?”
“Of course.”
“I’ve met several Aphelians in my time. I know how you’re trained, how strict your teachings are. How regimented…” He shakes his head. “Valen won’t respond to those things.”
“You’re saying he’s not the formal type?”
Kopic laughs. “No. He’s most definitely not theformaltype. Valen is… Well, he just isn’t interested in the, um, courtly side of things.”
“So, he’s more relaxed?” That’s good. I’ve studied Fae tradition and rules, behaviors and appropriate conversations, but keeping them all straight in my head terrifies me. Nobles are different. There’s a bit of wiggle room. But members of the royal court? That can get tricky.
“Relaxed is…one way to put it.”
“I understand. Thank you, Kopic. I appreciate the heads-up.”
“You’re going to need it.”
“What?”
“Nothing. Nothing… Are you ready?”
“Might I ask what’s expected of me this evening?” I haven’t been allowed my weapons, and they’ve wrapped me up like a gift to present to Valen. Am I supposed to smile? Bat my eyes and offer an array of ego-boosting compliments? Perhaps I’m expected to simply stand there and look pretty. Deceptively demure and hiding my deadly skills until there’s need of them. A party isn’t an ideal situation for Valen and me to get to know each other.
Kopic pushes through a set of double doors framed in silver and gestures to a room across the way. “Have you never been to a party?”
“We don’t have parties in the Order.” Brutal training, constant bruises, rationed food, and bare bedding—but parties? The closest I ever got to a party was the farewell feast the night before I came here, and I skipped it.
“Well, then… Prepare for the time of your life.” He pushes open the doors so I can peer inside, and everything spins a bit. My stomach pitches, and I swallow the sudden lump forming in my throat.
