The Winter King by C. L. Wilson Read Free Book Online Page A

of complaint. He found none. Verdan, it seemed, had outdone himself.
    “This will do.” He glanced at the servant girls. “Prepare my bath.”
    They squeaked and bobbed and nearly tumbled over each other like a litter of clumsy wolf pups in their rush to do his bidding.
    “I will expect refreshments and your daughter’s company within the hour,” he reminded the Summer King with a cool look.
    “Of course.” Verdan bowed his head slightly. “Newt here will see to any other needs you may have. Just use the bellpull to summon her.” He pointed to a long, tasseled pull near the double doors. “I had thought we would discuss terms in the map room downstairs. Will two hours from now give you sufficient time to prepare?”
    “Two hours is fine.” He didn’t want to leave Verdan stewing for too long, lest worry blossom into something unwise.
    “I’ll send my steward Gravid to guide the way.” Verdan spun on his heel and departed.
    The Mistress of Servants lingered behind long enough to drop a quick, deep curtsy and reiterate the offer of her services. “If you need anything, Your Majesty, anything at all, just call on Newt. I’ll see you get whatever you desire.”
    “Very good.” There was an obsequiousness to her tone and slyness to her darting gaze that he did not care for. “For now, Newt, privacy is what I desire most. And Newt? Wintercraig kings are addressed as ‘Your Grace,’ not ‘Your Majesty.’ ”
    “I understand, Your Grace. Of course, Your Grace. Just send the girls out when they’re done.” She bowed and backed out of the Queen’s Bower. The doors, now guarded by Wynter’s own men stationed outside in the hall, closed behind her.
    Silence fell over the bower, broken only by the sound of splashing water coming from the bathing chamber. Wynter and Valik stood still and wordless, watching each other and waiting in patience silence. A moment later, the four trembling young maids emerged from the bedchamber like wary does mincing into an open glade.
    “Your bath is ready, sir,” one of them whispered.
    “Good.” Wynter jerked his head toward the double doors. “Out.”
    The maids bolted.
    Valik waited until they heard the sound of the maids’ shoes clattering down the stone steps before speaking. “Well, he managed it.”
    Wynter nodded. “Surprisingly well, too.” He stripped off his gauntlets and tossed them on a nearby table, then walked to the two large, glassed windows cut into the stone wall and threw up the sash on each of them. Cold brisk air swirled in, carrying with it a light flurry of snow. He breathed deep and left the windows open so the draft could clear away the sweet, heavy aroma hanging in the room. “It seems Verdan is sincere in his efforts to be accommodating. Perhaps he’ll acquiesce to my terms after all, and I can take what I’ve come for through peaceful means rather than violence.”
    Valik grunted, plucked a round green grape from a bowl of fruit, and popped it into his mouth. He bit down, then grimaced and spit the crushed grape into his hand. “Sour. You didn’t allow warmth enough for their crops to ripen this year.”
    “That was the plan.”
    “I suppose. Just didn’t think I’d have to suffer the results.” He sighed. “I hope there’s something decent to eat around here.”
    “Stay and share my meal with me.”
    Valik gave a grunting laugh. “Don’t think so, tempting though it is. That Autumn is a fine piece of Summerland bounty. They all are. Lucky you.”
    “Lucky me,” Wynter agreed with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
    His friend started to say something—no doubt a continuance of the argument they’d been having since leaving the encampment this morning—but he caught himself, and said instead, “Water’s hot. Go bathe. She’ll warm to you a bit better if you don’t stink of horse and travel.”
    Wynter arched a cool brow. “I’ve already told you, she could be cold as a block of ice, and it won’t change my