Winter

Twenty-Eight

Winter’s heart fluttered as she pushed open the massive glass door to the menagerie. Sounds of wildlife spilled into the corridor—squawking birds in their palatial cages, monkeys chattering from overhead vines, white stallions neighing in distant stables.

She shut the door before the heat could escape and scanned the forked pathways, but there was no sign of Jacin. The menagerie took up several acres of this wing of the palace, a labyrinth of barred cages and glass enclosures. It was always humid and perfumed with exotic flowers, an aroma that barely covered up the animal scent.

It was her favorite place—had been even before Scarlet had lived there. She always felt at home with the animals, who knew nothing of mind control and manipulation. They didn’t care if she was beautiful or if she was the queen’s stepdaughter or if she was going mad. She could not remember ever having an episode of madness inside these walls, surrounded by her friends. Here, she was calmer. Here, she could pretend that she was in control of her own senses.

She tucked an unruly curl behind her ear and moved away from the door. She passed the chilled home of the arctic fox, who was curled atop a birch log, hiding his face behind a bristled tail. The next cage held a mother snow leopard and her litter of three prancing cubs. On the opposite side of the mossy path was a sleeping white owl. It peeped its huge eyes open as Winter passed.

She spotted Ryu’s enclosure ahead, but he must have been sleeping in his den, as the wolf was nowhere to be seen. Then there was Scarlet, the one creature in the menagerie that was not made up of all-white fur or feathers, and she wore the distinction with defiance in her red hair and the hooded sweatshirt she never took off despite the humidity. She was sitting with her knees pulled up to her chest, staring at the flowering moss outside her cage.

She startled as Winter came closer.

“Hello, friend.” Winter knelt in front of Scarlet’s cage.

“Hello, crazy,” said Scarlet. It sounded like an endearment. “How are the castle walls today?”

Winter hummed thoughtfully. She’d been so distracted she’d hardly been paying attention to the walls. “Not as bloody as usual,” she determined.

“That’s something.” Scarlet pulled her curls to one side. Her hair was dark with grease and grime, extinguishing the fiery redness that had once reminded Winter of a comet’s tail. She’d also lost too much weight since her captivity. Winter felt a pang of guilt. She should have brought a snack.

Scarlet’s gaze raked over Winter with a tinge of suspicion, taking in the fluttery dress that sparkled a bit more than usual. “You look…” She paused. “Never mind. What’s the occasion?”

Winter knotted her hands together. “Jacin asked me to meet him here.”

Scarlet nodded, unsurprised. “Yeah, he came by a bit ago.” She tilted her chin toward the path. “He went that way.”

Winter stood again, knees shaking. Why was she nervous? This was Jacin, who had seen her covered in mud and scratches when they were children, who had bandaged her wounds when she got a scrape, who had held her when the visions were closing in, his whispers dragging her back to reality.

But something had been different when he asked her to meet him here.

For once, he seemed anxious.

She spent half the night wondering what it could mean, and her imagination always pulled her back to one possibility, one glittering hope.

He was going to tell her that he loved her. He didn’t want to pretend anymore, despite the politics, despite her stepmother. He couldn’t go another day without kissing her.

She shivered.

“Thank you,” she murmured to Scarlet. Adjusting her skirt, she headed down the path.

“Winter?”

She paused. Scarlet was clutching the bar nearest her face. “Be careful.”

Winter cocked her head. “What do you mean?”

“I know you like him. I know you trust him. But just … be careful.”

Winter smiled. Poor, untrusting Scarlet. “If you insist,” she said, turning away.

She spotted him as soon as she’d rounded the corner of Ryu’s enclosure. Jacin was standing on a bridge that overlooked the menagerie’s central pond and burbling waterfalls. A family of six swans was clustered beneath him as he tossed bread crumbs from his pockets.

He was wearing his uniform, ready to start his shift as her personal guard. His hair was so pale in the menagerie’s hazy light that for a sinking moment Winter imagined he was one of Levana’s animals—one of her pets.

She brushed the thought away as Jacin looked up. His expression was dark and her giddiness faded. So this was not a romantic meeting after all. Of course it wasn’t. It never was.

This disappointment did not, however, chase away the fantasy of how badly she wanted him to press her against these caged walls and kiss her until she could think of nothing else.

She cleared her throat and came to stand beside him. “This is quite clandestine,” she said, nudging him with her shoulder as he emptied the bread from his pockets.

Jacin hesitated, before nudging her back. “The menagerie is open to the public, Highness.”

“Yes, and the doors will be locking in five minutes. No one’s here.”

He glanced over his shoulder. “You’re right. I suppose it is clandestine.”

A new whisper of hope stirred between her ears. Maybe. Maybe …

“Walk with me,” Jacin said, ducking off the bridge.

She followed him around the pond. His attention was glued to the ground, one hand brushing against the handle of his knife. Ever the guard.

“Was there something…?”

“Yeah,” he whispered, as if pulling himself from deep thoughts, “there’s a thing or two.”

“Jacin?”

He massaged his brow. Winter couldn’t recall the last time he’d looked so unsure of himself. “In fact, there are a whole lot of things I’d like to say to you.”

Her heart ricocheted. Struggling through the topsy-turvy thoughts in her head, all she managed to say was a baffled “oh?”

Jacin’s eyes flickered to her, but didn’t linger, darting instead down the path. They crossed another ivory-carved bridge. Most of the swans had gone their separate ways, but one was floating after them still, dipping its head into the water. On the other side of the path were albino hares that watched them pass with red eyes and twitching noses.

“Ever since we were kids, all I ever wanted was to protect you.”

Her lips tingled. She wished he would stop walking so she could see his face. But he didn’t stop, guiding her past rocky outcroppings and drooping, heavy-headed flowers.

“Knowing you were there at the trial, all I could think was, I have to survive this. I’m not going to make her sit there and watch me die.”

“Jacin—”

“But I was stupid to think I could protect you forever. Not from her.”

His tone turned harsh. Winter’s emotions were shredded from the constant flipping of this conversation.

“Jacin, what is this about?”

He took in a shaky breath. They’d come full circle and she could see that Ryu was awake now, prowling behind his bars.

Jacin stopped walking, and Winter tore her gaze from the wolf. She was pinned beneath Jacin’s ice-blue stare. She gulped.

“She wants to kill you, Princess.”

Winter shivered, first with the intensity of his words, and second with their meaning. She supposed such a declaration should have shocked her, but ever since Levana had given her these scars, she had been expecting this.

Her disappointment over Jacin not bringing her here to confess his love was more potent than the knowledge her stepmother wanted her dead.

“What have I done?”

He shook his head, the deep sadness returning. “Nothing that you could help. The people love you so much. Levana’s just realized how much. She thinks you could be a threat to her crown.”

“But I could never be queen,” she said. “The bloodline. The people would never—”

“I know.” His expression was sympathetic. “But it doesn’t matter.”

She drew back, hearing his words again. Spoken with such certainty. She wants to kill you, Princess.

“She told you this?”

A sharp, single nod.

Bright spots flickered in her vision. She stepped backward, grasping the rail of Ryu’s enclosure. Behind her, she heard a growl, followed by Ryu’s nose against her fingers. She hadn’t realized he was there.

“She asked you to do it.”

His jaw clenched. Guiltily, he glanced at the wolf. “I’m so sorry, Princess.”

When the world stopped spinning, she dared to look up at the camera over his shoulder. She rarely paid the cameras much attention, but now she wondered if her stepmother was watching, waiting to see her stepdaughter murdered so she could protect her throne from an imaginary threat.

“Why would she do that to you?”

He laughed, like someone had stabbed him in the chest and he had no other choice but to find it amusing. “To me? Really?”

She forced herself to stand tall. Recalling her breathless anticipation of this meeting, she thought of what a naïve, silly girl she’d been.

“Yes,” she said, firmly. “How could she be so cruel, to ask you, of all people?”

His face softened. “You’re right. It’s torture.”

Tears started to mist her eyes. “She threatened someone, didn’t she? She’s going to have someone killed if you don’t do this.”

He didn’t respond.

She sniffed, blinking the tears away. He didn’t have to tell her. It didn’t really matter who it was. “It’s selfish of me, but I’m glad it’s you, Jacin.” Her voice shook. “I know you’ll make it quick.”

She tried to imagine it. Would he use his knife? A gun? She had no idea what was the fastest way to die. She didn’t want to know.

Jacin would have had to ask these same questions. All the night before. All that day. He must have been planning how to do it, dreading this meeting as much as she’d been yearning for it.

Her heart broke for him.

Behind her, Ryu started to growl.

“Winter…”

It had been so long since he’d called her by her name. Always Princess. Always Highness.

Her lip quivered, but she refused to cry. She wouldn’t do that to him.

Jacin’s fingers curled around his knife.

It was torture. Jacin looked more afraid than when he’d stood on trial. More pained now than when his torso had been stripped raw from the lashings.

This was the last time she would ever see him.

This was her last moment. Her last breath.

Suddenly, all of the politics and all of the games stopped mattering. Suddenly, she felt daring.

“Jacin,” she said, with a shaky smile. “You must know. I cannot remember a time when I didn’t love you. I don’t think such a time ever existed.”

His eyes filled with a thousand emotions. But before he could say whatever he would say, before he could kill her, Winter grabbed the front of his shirt with both hands and kissed him.

He thawed much quicker than she’d expected. Almost instantly, like he’d been waiting for this moment, he grabbed her hips and pulled her against him with a possessiveness that overwhelmed her. His lips were desperate and starved as he leaned into the kiss, pressing her against the rail. She gasped, and he deepened the kiss, threading one hand into the hair at the nape of her neck.

Her head swam, muddled with heat and a lifetime of desire.

Jacin’s other hand abandoned her hip. She heard the ring of steel as the knife was pulled from its scabbard. Winter shuddered and kissed him harder, filling it with every fantasy she’d ever had.

Jacin’s hand slipped out of her hair. His arm encircled her. He held her against him like they couldn’t get close enough. Like he meant to absorb her body into his.

Releasing his shirt, Winter found his neck, his jaw. She felt the tips of his hair on her thumbs. He made a noise and she couldn’t tell if it was desire or pain or regret or a mix of everything. His arm tensed against her back. His weight shifted as he raised the knife.

Winter squeezed her eyes tight.

Having seen so many deaths in her life, she had the distant thought that this was not such a horrible way to go.

His arm jerked downward and Winter gasped, the rush of air separating them. Her eyes flew open. Behind her, Ryu yelped, but the sound turned to a betrayed whimper.

Jacin’s eyes were open too, blue and regretful.

Winter tried to back away but he held her firm. She had nowhere to go anyway, pinned between him and the railing as she was. Over his shoulder, a camera’s light glowed against the ceiling. Her breaths were ragged. Her head spun. She couldn’t tell her heartbeat from Jacin’s.

Jacin. Whose cheeks were flushed and whose hair was a mess. Jacin, who she had finally dared to kiss. Jacin, who had kissed her back.

But if she’d expected to see desire in his face, she was disappointed. He had frozen again.

“Do me a favor, Princess,” he whispered, his breath warm against her mouth. “The next time someone says they’re going to kill you, don’t just let them.”

She stared at him, dazed. What had he done?

Winter’s knees gave out. Jacin caught her, sliding her down the enclosure’s bars. Her hand landed in something warm and wet seeping out from underneath the short wall.

“You’re all right, Princess,” Jacin murmured. “You’re all right.”

“Ryu?” Her voice broke.

“They’ll think the blood is yours.” He was explaining something, but she didn’t understand. “Wait here. Don’t move until I turn out the lights. Got it? Princess?”

“Don’t move,” she whispered.

Jacin pulled away and she heard the knife being ripped from the wolf’s flesh. The body sagged against the bars. Jacin cupped her scarred cheek, studying her to be sure she wasn’t mid-breakdown, to be sure she’d understood, but all she could comprehend was the warm stickiness soaking through her skirt. Blood was flooding the pathway. Gallons and gallons of blood were suddenly dripping from the glass ceiling, splattering on her arms, filling up the pond.

“Winter.”

She gaped at Jacin, incapable of speaking. The memory of the kiss clouded over with something awful and unfair. Ryu. Sweet, innocent Ryu.

“Until the lights go out,” he repeated. “Then I want you to get your redhead friend and get off this damned game board.” Jacin’s thumbs rubbed against her skin, stirring her from her shock. “Now play dead, Princess.”

She sagged, finding relief in the command. They were playing a game. A game. Like when they were kids. It’s a game and the blood isn’t real and Ryu—!

She scrunched her face against the tears. A sob stayed locked in her throat. Jacin propped her against the cage wall and then his warmth was gone. The heaviness of his boots thudded away, leaving a path of sticky footprints in his wake.