Chapter 41 The preparation for the summit
Chapter 41 The preparation for the summit
Fenris took her wrist, pulling her closer until she was standing between his knees. "I wasn't surviving, Astraea. I was waiting to die. That’s the truth I’ve been hiding from you. Before you came... before I saw you in that storm... I had decided that this was the last decade.
"Fenris, no..."
"I was done!" he shouted. "I was tired of being the only one awake in a world of statues. I was tired of the noise. I was the 'Mad King' because I had nothing left to love, and a man with nothing to love is a monster. I would have let the world freeze just to make the noise in my head stop."
Astraea reached out, cupping his face in both hands. "And now?"
Fenris leaned his forehead against her stomach, a shuddering breath escaping him. "And now I’m terrified. Because now I have a reason to want the sun to rise tomorrow. Now I have a reason to fight the Void. If you hadn't come... I would be a dead man on a throne of ice by now."
"Then let me be your anchor," Astraea whispered. "You’ve held the gate alone for a thousand years. Let me hold it with you."
"I have waited an eternity for you," he murmured against her skin. "I will never let you be cold again."
He bit her.
It was an explosion of silver light in her mind. She felt his years of loneliness rush into her, but instead of crushing her, it was met by her own twenty years of longing.
The two forces collided together until she couldn't tell where her heartbeat ended and his began.
Astraea cried out, her fingers digging into the muscles of his back, her "Cold Fire" flaring instinctively. But Fenris didn't flinch. He absorbed the ice, his own power wrapping around hers like a protective shield.
They fell back onto the bed, a tangle of limbs and heat and silver hair. For the first time, there was no "Alpha" and "Omega." There were no prophecies or wars or crowns. There was only them
"You’re so warm," Fenris whispered, his voice thick with wonder as he kissed the hollow of her throat. "I forgot... I forgot what it felt like to be warm."
"Then don't ever let go," Astraea said, pulling him down to her. "Be the King I need, and I will be the Queen you’ve waited for."
#. #. #. #. #.
The frost citadel was a filled with chaos. In the courtyard, the huge, northern wolves the size of a small carriage, were being worn armor. Their breath puffing out in thick fumes of white vapor.
The summit was only a day away, and the air was filled with a tension that came before a storm. High in the royal chambers, the silence was different. It was heavy and sacred.
Fenris stood before a big chest. He looked like a god, preparing for a crusade. He turned as Astraea came in, her footsteps silent on the ice tiled floor.
“You sent for me, Fenris?” She asked, her voice a whispered.
“The south expect’s a regular witch” Fenris said.
He reached into the chest and got out a garment that seemed to defy the law of physics. “They expect you to be wearing rags and spells. We are going to show them something else entirely different.”
He kept the garment over the table. It was the ‘heavenly frost garment’. It wasn't made from silk or wool. It was made from millions of tiny crushed diamonds held together by the threads of silver.
It generated its own light, a soft, pulsing glow. Astraea gasped, her hands hanging over the fabric. “It looks like millions of frozen starlight.”
“It is an artifact of the first zenith.” Fenris explained, coming closer, until he could feel the cold radiance over her. “It is weightless, yet it can become a blade. It is beautiful, yet it can be a warning.”
“When you wear this, Astraea, you're not just a queen, you are the embodiment of the North’s unyielding will.”
“Fenris, it is too much,” she whispered, looking at the gown. “It's supposed to be a summit. You are making it feel like it's a coronation.”
Fenris took her hand. “You are the coronation. Jaxon wants to tame a witch, let him try to lay hands on the woman who wears the sky.”
Down in the main hall, the echoes of heavy boots announced the arrival of Lyra. She had spent the last week convincing herself. That as the highest ranking noble woman. She would be the one representing the south beside Fenris at the summit.
She stood by the carriage, the huge black vehicle of black iron and bones, draped in her finest furs. “Where are the attendants?” Lyra shouted at a passing page.
“And why haven't my trunk been loaded into the king's carriage? We'll leave within the hour.”
The heavy doors of the inner sanctum opened and Fenris came out beside him were his two most trusted warriors, Kaelen of the shadow sect and Vane of the Iron King, they were men of few words and even fewer mercies.
“Fenris” Lyra called out, a smile stretching across her face.
“I have prepared the seating arrangement for the carriage. I assume you would want the lines of the duke lineage represented during the entry into the neutral zone. It's only proper that…”
“You are not coming Lyra,” Fenris said without even slowing down to look at her. Lyra's smile went down, then disappeared.
“I beg your pardon. The summit is the event of the century. My father expect…”
“Your father is expected to remain here and guard the citadel.” Fenris said, his voice cutting through her protest.
“And you are not invited to the carriage. In fact, you are not invited to the summit at all.”
“But… but, the witch,” Lyra stammered, her face turning red. “You are taking her, a nameless creature over the blood of the north.”
“Do you have any idea how that looks to the other alphas? They will think you have been bewitched.”