Gemma raised an eyebrow. “Have I lied to you before, My Lady?”
“I know, I’m just so happy. I can’t believe it!” Queen Linnea laughed, squeezing Gemma in another embrace that was so tight Gemma’s spine cracked.
“You deserve this happiness.”
“Thank you, Gemma. No, I mean it,” Queen Linnea said when Gemma started to curtsey. “None of this would have happened—none of this would have been possible without you.” The new queen hesitated, her hand lingering on her dagger. “I know I asked you to stay with me before this all began.”
Gemma nodded in acknowledgment.
“I realize now that’s not possible,” Queen Linnea continued as she shifted her gaze to her husband. “I don’t have the right to stand between you and that mage,” she said, her voice dripping with disdain as she mentioned Stil. “And I will miss you terribly, terribly much. When he comes to take you away, you must promise to write!”
“My Lady, Stil is busy aiding Prince Severin and his allies. In all likelihood, you will see him before I do when you answer Prince Severin’s summons,” Gemma soothed.
Queen Linnea shook her head. “Gemma, the man faced down a monarch and a country for you. The truth is, as soon as he thinks Verglas will not mind your absence as much, he’s going to come for you,” she said, speaking the secret desires of Gemma’s heart.
Gemma smiled. “Perhaps,” she said. “But it is your wedding feast—a time to rejoice.”
“I know, I know,” Queen Linnea sighed, looking down to adjust the skirt of her dress. When she looked up, her eyes landed on King Toril, and she smiled again. She turned to look at Gemma, her smile still in place. “All I wanted to say is that…I understand. I understand why you will leave, and whenever you come back, I will put aside everything—even the army—to welcome you home.”
“Thank you, My Lady,” Gemma said, deeply touched by her friend’s words.
“Linnea,” Toril called.
“Right. I should return to the rest of the guests. Enjoy the food—take some back for the furball!” Queen Linnea called over her shoulder as she headed for her husband, her magnificent dress dragging behind her.
Gemma shook her head at her friend’s retreat and turned herself in the direction of her table. Grandmother Guri was holding court with a number of villager ladies. They were eagerly swapping gossip and stories as they crowded around the table that was specially prepared for Gemma, munching on dried fruit and krumkake—thin cake rolls filled with whipped cream. A passing villager bowed to Gemma as he would to royalty, and a servant bearing a platter mimicked the motion when she noticed Gemma.
The heat of the hall beat on Gemma’s shoulders like a giant, and all the laughter and shouts of celebration made her head throb. She cautiously inspected her surroundings to make sure she was not being watched before she slipped through a servant door.
Her head eased the instant she closed the door behind her, but Gemma walked on, navigating her way through the palace—which she now knew quite well. She found her way to the courtyard and gardens that overlooked Lake Sno and breathed in the cool, spring air.
The tranquility of the lake and the silence of the gardens soothed Gemma.
When a cold, wet nose bumped her hand, Gemma did not scream in surprise, but smiled. “Sorry, Hvit. I didn’t bring you anything,” she said, kneeling down to run her hands through the luxurious fur of her hellhound-turned-guardian.
The wolfish creature panted happily, his tongue hanging out as he twirled his curled tail. Somehow, the canine always knew where Gemma was and found her—even if she locked him in Grandmother Guri’s cottage. (Thank goodness Jo-Jo was even less impressed with Hvit than she was with Grandmother Guri!)
“It’s finally settled,” Gemma said, resting her head on her companion’s shoulder. She was sure to get white hair all over her clothes, but she didn’t care. With King Toril properly crowned and Lady Linnea married, there was little else Gemma had left to see to in Verglas. She was free. Free to travel and, hopefully, find Stil.
She missed him so much, even though they hadn’t been together long. When she closed her eyes, she could still see the way his blue eyes gleamed when he teased her. Winter in Verglas was beautiful as usual, but Gemma was surprised by how deeply she felt Stil’s absence. It was like a piece of her left with him.
Hvit went completely still for a moment—going so far as to collect his tongue into his mouth. Then his nose twitched, and he returned to his happy pants, smearing his cold nose in Gemma’s ears.
“Gemma.”
Perhaps Gemma missed Stil too much. She could have sworn she heard his rich, melodic voice.
“Gemma.”
Gemma peered over Hvit.
