Tomorrow, first thing, she would start the exercises Krysti had recommended to strengthen her arms for climbing. And the seamstress who’d been remaking her wardrobe would simply have to make her a set of clothes more suited to the sort of active pursuits Krysti and the men engaged in.

She’d seen the women of the Craig working hard alongside their men. She wasn’t going to let herself remain some weak, pampered southerner in their eyes. She was going to become a woman of the Craig in every way she could. She was going to learn to climb cliffs, hunt, read the signs of the forest.

Maybe that would earn their approval.

Because being herself certainly hadn’t.

This strange dance of avoidance going on between Wynter and herself had to end, too. Starting tonight. If his seat at dinner was empty again, she was going to track him down and demand that he come to her bed. Considering that her life still lay in the balance if she didn’t produce a child, she wouldn’t be begging for his attentions. She’d just be demanding he keep up with his part of their marriage contract.

“Bella,” she called. She could hear her maid moving around in the bedchamber. Tidying the linens, no doubt, since she’d been bemoaning the Wintercraig maids’ inability to fold a crisp corner. A few moments later, the girl popped into the bathing room.

“Yes, ma’am, you called?”

“Lay out the white gown for dinner. The one with the ermine trim.” Kham ran a soapy cloth across her outstretched arm. Wynter liked that dress, she knew. The last time she’d worn it, he’d hardly taken his eyes off her.

“Yes, ma’am,” Bella said. She started to turn away, then paused. “So you will be going down to dinner tonight, then?”

Khamsin frowned. “Of course. Why would I not?”

“Well, I thought that since the king was gone, you might—”

“The king is gone?”

“Yes, ma’am. This afternoon. He rode out with Lord Valik and Lady Villani.”

The bar of soap squirted out of Kham’s suddenly clenched hand and landed in the tub with a splash.

“He rode out . . . with Lady Villani?”

“Yes, ma’am.” A gust of wind rattled the mullioned windowpanes. Bella flinched and glanced out at the darkening evening sky. “I’m sorry. I thought he told you.”

“No. No, he didn’t.” Khamsin gripped the sides of the tub. The already-warm water was growing hotter by the second. “On second thought, just lay out my nightgown and robe. I’ll have dinner in the room tonight and make an early night of it.”

“Of course.” Bella bobbed a curtsy and left.

Rather than lounging in the tub until the water cooled—which at the present rate was going to be never—Khamsin made short work of her bath and stepped out. She needed no towel to dry herself. The water on her skin evaporated into steam before her feet touched the thick rugs covering the cold stone floor.

Wynter had left Gildenheim without a word to her. And he’d taken Reika Villani with him! He’d sworn to be faithful. To take no other woman to bed. And yet he’d avoided hers for the last two months and was now cavorting about the countryside with that conniving harpy.

She snatched up her robe, shoved her arms through the sleeves, and stalked into her bedroom. Was this some sort of test? To see how far he could push her before she broke? Or had he lied to her from the start? Just told her what she wanted to hear to keep her docile and under control while he went after the woman he truly wanted?

She didn’t want to believe she could be so easily duped, but apparently, she could. He’d dazzled her with his great, masculine beauty, seduced her with his oh-so-believable flashes of tenderness and caring. Stupid, naïve idiot that she was . . . she’d fallen for it all.

The bedchamber was warmer than usual, a large fire roaring in the hearth. The flames leapt higher as Bella industriously poked at the logs.

“Those Wintercraig maids opened all the windows this afternoon when they were changing your linens,” Bella groused. “Can you believe it? I nearly froze in my shoes when I first came in—such a horrible, icy wind blowing through the place. It’s only bearable now because I closed the windows and started a fire. Silly, goose-brained girls. What were they thinking? It’s snowing—snowing!”

Kham glanced out the windows. Sure enough, the snow Krysti said had been threatening all day was now falling thick and fast.

“It’s all right, Bella,” she murmured. “I like the fresh air, too. It makes the room smell nice, and the cold doesn’t bother me. But you go on back to your room and sit by the fire. Take the rest of the night off.”

Bella turned in surprise. “But what about your dinner?”

“I’ll be fine. I’m really not hungry.”

“But—”

“Please!” Kham grimaced at the sharp edge in her tone and rubbed her temples. “Please, just go. I’ll be fine.”

Grumbling about being sent away, Bella left.

Khamsin drew on her nightdress and robes, then paced the room restlessly, hounded by her thoughts and the feelings of anger and betrayal. The roaring fire, rather than comforting her, only made her hot, irritable, and angrier. She’d trusted him. Dear gods, she had. The enemy king who’d wed her. He had promised to be faithful, to deal with her fairly, and she’d believed him. What a fool she was!

She flung open the balcony doors and stepped out into the storm, hoping the cold and snow would draw the temper from her and calm her down. Instead, the storm grew worse as her agitated weathergift amplified the forces of nature. The wind began to howl. The whole sky was whirling white now, and she couldn’t see down to Gildenheim’s walls—nor even to the courtyard below. The air around her was hot and steaming—snowflakes evaporating in an instant when they neared her body. Her anger was feeding the storm, all right, but the storm was feeding her anger, just as much.