“Here we are.” The frosted glass roof of the Atrium towered thirty feet above them. Only the palace towers and Wynter’s private room built into the mountaintop were higher. Several courtyard gardens had been cut into the mountainside. Krysti led Khamsin to an isolated corner where the outer battlement wall merged with an inner courtyard wall.

“So, let’s say you wanted to get to the top of the wall. We’ll start with this one.” He patted the shorter, inner wall. “Pretend the battlement stairs don’t exist. You can still easily scale a small wall like this. Especially if it has handholds like the ones here and here and here.” He pointed to a few slightly protruding rocks in the wall. “Watch.”

Khamsin stepped to one side as Krysti ran at the corner of the wall. He leapt up, planting his right foot on one wall and left foot on the opposing wall, grabbed the protruding rocks, and scrambled up the corner of the joined walls. When he reached the top, he swung one leg over the inner wall to straddle it and leaned back, turning to grin down at Khamsin.

“There, see? Easy.” The whole demonstration had taken less than ten seconds.

“Oh, yes, very easy.” Sarcasm dripped from every word. That only made Krysti’s grin widen.

He swung his right leg back across the wall and hopped off, landing lightly on the snow-covered grass in front of her. “Probably nothing you should try in a dress, though.”

“That’s easily fixed.” Kham reached down and tucked her skirts into her waistband, leaving her woolen-stocking-clad legs bare. “Show me again, only this time not so fast.”

Wynter jogged down the steps of Gildenheim to the main courtyard, where Valik and a contingent of White Guard were waiting with the horses. To his surprise, they weren’t alone. Reika Villani stood by her cousin’s side, holding the reins to her saddled bay mare.

Wyn frowned and glanced between Valik and Reika. “Lady Villani, you are going somewhere?”

“She’s heading home to her family estate,” Valik answered. “Reika received word that her father is in poor health. She asked if she could ride with us as far as Skaarsgard. I was certain you wouldn’t mind.”

Wyn hesitated a brief second, aware of the watchful eyes of his court and the gossip that would ensue. Escorting Reika Villani anywhere could only cause him grief once Khamsin found out, as he knew she would. But what sort of cowardly troll would he be if he refused a lady of his court protective escort to her father’s estate for fear of a little gossip?

Shaking off the twinge of concern, he said, “Of course. It will be our pleasure to see you safely to your father’s estate.”

Reika smiled and curtsied with a murmured, “Thank you, Your Grace.”

Wyn glanced up at Khamsin’s balcony above. One did not pour fuel on an inferno, then run away and expect others to deal with the resulting conflagration.

“We’ll leave in half an hour,” he announced. “There’s something I must attend to.”

Leaving Valik and Reika staring after him in surprise, he jogged back up the steps and into the palace. “Fjall.” He called the Steward of the Keep to his side. “Where is Her Grace?”

“She’s with young Krysti, Sire. They’ve been exploring the palace since returning from their ride.”

Which meant they could be anywhere. And he had neither the time nor the inclination to rouse the entire castle in search of his wife.

“Thank you.” Leaving the steward to his duties, Wynter took the central stairs three at a time and followed the corridors to the private office attached to his rooms. Sitting down at the desk, he drew out a slip of parchment, uncapped the pot of ink, and dipped a quill in.

The inked quill hovered over the parchment for several minutes as he wrestled with what words to write. In the end he decided to stick to the facts.

My Queen,

Business of the kingdom has called me away. I return in a fortnight. Keep well, min ros. I will attend you upon my return. Until then, I remain

Your faithful husband,

W

There. Short, sweet, and to the point. Nothing weak or wistful, but he’d included an endearment and declared his intent to end their estrangement when he got back. And he’d taken the time to write the note in his own hand. That should earn some measure of favor.

He hesitated, debating about whether to address Reika’s presence in his traveling party directly, then decided against it. He’d outright declared himself a faithful husband in his note, thus his wife should have no trouble dismissing any groundless gossip that might reach her ears.

Wyn sanded the note, waited for it to dry, then folded, sealed, and addressed it. He carried the sealed missive into Khamsin’s chambers and propped it against the mirror of her dressing table, where she could not help but notice it.

Satisfied that he’d done what he could to avert pending disaster, Wynter made his way back to the courtyard and mounted Hodri. The stallion pranced, tossing his long white mane and snorting with impatience.

Wyn patted Hodri’s strong neck and took up the reins. “Let us be off.”

With a clatter of hooves on gritted cobblestone, Wynter, Valik, Reika, and the White Guard rode out of Gildenheim.

Sore, exhausted, her pent-up frustration now tamped down to bearable levels, Khamsin groaned as she sank into the luxurious, steaming bath Bella had prepared. Her head lolled against the lip of the tub, eyes closed, as she breathed in the patchouli-scented steam.

Her legs and arms felt like jelly, and there wasn’t a muscle in her body that didn’t ache. She’d practiced under Krysti’s instruction until well after sundown. The boy was a surprisingly demanding taskmaster. He hadn’t let her quit until she’d reached the top of the wall several times, a feat that had proven more difficult than she’d anticipated given the awkwardness of her voluminous skirts tucked up around her waist and her lack of upper-arm strength.