11
" I hadn't thought you such a faithless coward. You are a princess of the Summer Throne, wedded Queen of the Craig, and my wife. You swore an oath, before a priest and your father's court, to accept my counsel and my care. You swore to offer me all the fruits of your life. And now, you would deny me that which you swore to offer? Do you have so little honor?"
The accusation stole the silver from her eyes, leaving them pure, plain gray filled with shock and dismay. "I...No! Of course not! I'm no oathbreaker."
"Then come to your bath. Accept my care, as you swore you would. Offer me the fruits of your life, that I may dine once more on peace instead of war. "
― C.L. Wilson , The Winter King (Weathermages of Mystral, #1)
15
" Send word down the line,” he said. “We’ll camp here for the night.”
Valik nodded and started to turn his horse around.
“And Valik? There are lamps in the carriage that are apparently supposed to help her back heal faster. Have them set them up in my tents. I’ll see to the men while you get her settled.” At Valik’s raised brows, Wynter added, “Your face is prettier than mine, or so I’m told. She may find it easier to do what you ask than what I command.”
“You’re forgetting she kicked me in my pretty face last time I asked her to do something she didn’t want to do.”
Wyn gave a grunt of laughter. “Better than kicking you in the balls.” Then he sobered. “And see to it she actually eats and drinks something.” She’d taken little nourishment all day, and though he’d allowed it, knowing anything she ate was likely to come back up once they started moving again, they were stopping for the night now, and she needed to eat. Her body needed sustenance to heal. “If she balks, tell her I’ll force it down her throat myself if I must.”
Valik shook his head. “I’ll let you tell her that.” He rubbed his jaw. “I want to be able to chew my dinner. "
― C.L. Wilson , The Winter King (Weathermages of Mystral, #1)
17
" Tildy warned us the Winter King could identify a person by scent,” Summer said. “Since he thinks you’re Autumn, Tildy said the wedding night should take place here, in Autumn’s bedroom, where her scent is already absorbed into everything.”
“She added the flowers and incense to help mask your own scent,” Spring added, “and deliberately arranged the candles so he won’t be able to get a good look at your face so long as you keep to the bed.”
“Where’s Autumn?” she asked.
“Here.”
Khamsin turned. Her sister emerged from the connecting wardrobe room wrapped in a forest green satin robe. Her long auburn hair spilled around her shoulders in ringlets.
“Scenting up your nightclothes.” Autumn grimaced. “I know I’m clean. I bathed this morning, but there’s still something wrong about rolling on sheets and rubbing myself on clothes all day. It just seems so . . . so . . . dirty.”
Despite everything, Khamsin laughed. For some reason, Autumn’s complaint struck her as funny. “You rolled on the sheets?”
“Tildavera suggested it. "
― C.L. Wilson , The Winter King (Weathermages of Mystral, #1)
18
" He laughed with a mix of amusement and surprised appreciation. She couldn’t win. She had to know that. Yet still she fought. He hadn’t known there was a Summerlander alive still willing to confront him with such spirited defiance. Entire armies had fallen before him, yet this slight wisp of a girl dared to grapple, barehanded and defenseless, with the Winter King, a man who could slay with a glance.
He dodged a fist meant to break his nose and laughed again, enjoying himself for the first time in a very long while. How lucky for him so few of Verdan’s soldiers had possessed such raw, reckless courage! A thousand like her in their ranks, and the war might have ended quite differently.
His humor apparently didn’t sit well with her. She snarled and aimed another blow at his chin, which he blocked, as well as a vicious kick to his groin. He managed to block that, too—barely—but the hard toe of her boot still came close enough, with enough force, that his balls tingled from the near miss.
He quit laughing. There were some things a man just didn’t find funny. "
― C.L. Wilson , The Winter King (Weathermages of Mystral, #1)
