Winter's Child (17 page)

T
WENTY-ONE
Story the Twelfth

In Which Kai Finds the Key That Opens Many Hearts

“I still can’t believe you cried like a girl,” I said.

“Well, why not?” Grace demanded. “I am one, aren’t I?”

It was the morning following her arrival, and we were sitting in the room I had known she would wish to see most: the palace’s tallest tower. The tower from which Deirdre had tumbled as an infant so long ago, thereby setting all our tales in motion.

Grace had slept deeply, which was hardly surprising. She hadn’t asked about Deirdre at all, which was. But I knew better than to push her. The last thing I wanted was another quarrel. Once Grace was awake and had eaten a hearty breakfast, I showed her around the palace, finally taking her to the tower. Grace was silent as we climbed the curving stairs. She stood in the open doorway, gazing into the room.

“I wish Oma could have seen this,” she said at last.

“I thought that the first time I came here,” I answered. “Come and sit by the window. I think you’ll like the view. You can see the horizon.”

“This may come as something of a shock,” Grace said, her tone wry as she followed me into the room. “But I may have seen enough of the horizon, at least for a little while.”

“I think it would shock me more if you didn’t feel that way,” I said.

We settled onto the window seat. In spite of the fact that Grace claimed she’d had enough, I noticed that the first thing she did was look out to see where the ground met the sky. Through the window, I could see a falcon making great lazy circles in the morning air.

“So,” I said finally, “here you are. I still can’t believe it.” In spite of my flippant words at our reunion, I could hardly believe what Grace had done. She had set out after me. She had traveled for countless miles.

“That’s several things you can’t believe about me,” Grace said without taking her eyes from the falcon.

“Well,” I answered slowly, “maybe that’s because I suddenly feel as if I don’t know you as well as I once did.”

Grace looked at me then, and I couldn’t quite read the expression in her eyes.

“I could say the same about you,” she finally replied. “If anyone had told me we’d have such a big fight that you’d go off in the middle of the night without saying good-bye, that you’d leave me to follow the
Winter Child, I’d have told them they were out of their mind. Yet here we are.”

“Here we are,” I echoed.
And so,
I thought.
What now?

“I’m sorry,” I said, then stared in astonishment. Grace had spoken precisely the same words at the exact same time.

“No, really,” I said. “Grace, I—”

“You should let me go first,” she interrupted, with just the hint of a smile. “I’m the one who walked for ages to get here, after all.”

“I knew you were going to rub that in sooner or later,” I said. We hadn’t had much time for conversation last night, but we had discussed flying. “You always did want to be first,” I went on. “Oma used to say so.”

“She did, didn’t she?” Grace’s smile turned just a little sad around the corners of her mouth. “Perhaps neither of us has changed so very much after all.”

A silence fell between us then. Not quite as companionable as those we’d shared in the past, but not so strained as to be uncomfortable, either. It was a waiting-to-see-what-would-happen-next kind of silence. Grace broke it.

“I truly
am
sorry, Kai.” Grace spoke quietly. “I’m sorry that we quarreled. And I’m sorry I let you believe I thought that if I married you, your love would require me to change, that it would require me to let go of myself. I’m sorry I believed these things, if only for a moment.”

She made a gesture, as if to push away the past. “It was stupid.
I
was stupid. I should have known you better. I
do
know you better. I think”—she sighed—“I think the person I didn’t know well enough was myself.”

“But now you think you do,” I said.

She looked at me, her gaze clear-eyed and steady. “Yes.”

“Then that makes two of us,” I said. “And for the record, I’m sorry, too. I never should have left without saying good-bye. It seems so childish now, doesn’t it? But it felt like the right thing to do at the time.”

“So what happens now?” Grace asked. “Do you still want to marry me?”

“If I did, would you say yes?”

“I asked you first,” Grace said.

“How about this?” I asked. “I’m going to count to three. When I’m done, we’ll each say whether or not we want to get married. We’ll answer at the same time, just a simple yes or no. And we’ll promise to speak the truth, because, whether we get married or not, we love each other and we always have.

“Will you do this?”

“Yes, I will,” Grace said.

She held out a hand. I placed mine into it.

“Ready?”

“Ready.”

“One. Two. Three.”

“No,”
we said on the same breath, then stared in astonishment. I’m not sure which of us began to laugh
first. We laughed until our sides ached and the tears streamed from our eyes.

“I don’t know what’s so funny,” I managed to say when I could take a breath. “I walked out on you, you walked half the world to find me, and we don’t want to be together. Oma would never have approved of this. Didn’t she say stories were always supposed to end in happily ever after?”

“Who’s to say ours won’t still do that?” Grace asked. “I don’t know about you, but I’m laughing in relief. I was so afraid I’d walked all this way only for us to hurt each other again.”

“Why did you come after me?” I asked.

Grace was silent for a moment, her fingers fiddling with a tassel on the window-seat cushion.

“Because I had to,” she finally said. “I couldn’t bear the thought that you’d gone away in anger, though when I discovered that you’d left, I got pretty mad myself. And also ...” Her voice trailed off. “I was afraid.”

“Afraid,” I echoed.

“Afraid that I’d never see you again,” Grace said, her tone implying I was being stupid. Her fingers continued to worry the tassel. “What’s she like?”

“What’s who like?”

Grace heaved the cushion at my head. “Don’t be an idiot. The Winter Child, of course.”

“She’s difficult to describe,” I said. “She’s very beautiful, of course.”

“Oh, of course,” Grace said.

I picked up the cushion and threw it back at her. “But in all my life, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone so sad. You and I—we’ve always had each other, even when we’ve made mistakes. The fact that you came after me proves that. But Deirdre’s spent years and years with no one at all.”

“Except that now she has you,” Grace said.

I made a face. “Is it that obvious? Being that obvious is just pathetic.”

Grace gave a quick laugh. “You’ve never been pathetic, Kai,” she said. “And the only reason I know you love her is because I know you so well.”

She sat up a little straighter then, as if I’d poked her with a pin. “Do you mean to say you haven’t told her?”

“Of course I haven’t told her,” I said. “How can I? She’s a queen and what am I? A watchmaker’s apprentice. Besides, I had pretty much given her the impression I wanted to marry you.”

“Well, no wonder you were so happy to see me show up,” Grace said with a laugh.

“That’s it. I take it all back. I never missed you for a minute.”

“Oh, yes you did,” Grace protested.

“Yes, I did,” I said more seriously. “I worried about you, too.”

“Did you know I would come after you?” Grace asked.

“I didn’t exactly
know
it,” I answered slowly. “It was more a feeling that I had, as if I could sense your determination to find me, no matter what. It’s part of
why I agreed to stay behind while Deirdre toured the country.”

“When will she be back?”

“She’s expected today,” I said.

“And then you’ll tell her that you love her,” Grace said.

I stood up. “It’s not that simple, Grace,” I protested.

She got up in turn, moving to grasp me by the shoulders.

“Yes it is, Kai,” she said. “In its heart, in
your
heart, love is very simple. That is part of its great strength. It’s only the world’s expectations that complicate things.”

“That’s precisely my point,” I said.

“Which means,” Grace continued, her voice rising to carry over mine, “that you should tell Deirdre how you feel about her without delay. The worst that can happen is that she doesn’t feel the same as you do, right?”

“Well, yes,” I said tartly.

“But that would be no worse than the situation you’re in right now,” Grace said. “Not knowing how she really feels. Being afraid to speak up.”

“I’m not afraid,” I protested.

“Then prove it, Kai,” Grace said. “If you don’t tell her, you’ll always wonder what might have happened. Surely you don’t want to live a life of regret.”

Grace made good sense, I had to admit. “What makes you so smart all of a sudden?” I asked.

Grace gave me a fierce hug. “I’ve had a lot of time
to think things over,” she said. She released me and stepped back. Then, to my surprise, she raised a hand to my cheek, just as her grandmother always had.

“You have such good eyes, Kai,” Grace said softly. “Don’t waste what they can see.”

“I won’t,” I promised.

In the next moment, I heard the falcon’s piercing cry. Grace moved back to the window, undid the latch, and opened the casement. With a great rush of wings, the bird swept inside. It made a circuit of the room, then darted out again. Grace leaned out, the better to see the bird in flight.

“There’s a train of horses coming,” she said. “I think the Winter Child is back.”

T
WENTY-TWO
Story the Thirteenth

In Which Many Important Words Are Spoken

On my second homecoming, Kai waited for me at the palace gates with Grace at his side. They stood close together, hands clasped, and I felt my heart begin to sing with joy and weep with sorrow all at the same time.

I came so close,
I thought.
So close to finding love.
But it seemed it was not to be.

“Welcome home,” Kai said, and then he smiled. “I’d like to introduce you to my oldest friend, Grace Andersen. She has traveled many miles to find me.”

“Welcome, Grace,” I said.
How right they look together,
I thought.
How long will it be before Kai leaves, I wonder?

“Thank you, Your Highness,” Grace said formally. She let go of Kai’s hand to execute a curtsy. Then she stood quietly, hands at her sides.

“How did Deirdre do with the list of names?” Kai inquired of Dominic as the household servants rushed
forward to help the two of us dismount. As my feet hit the snow, I gave a quick shiver. Why had I never noticed the way the cold seeped up through the soles of my shoes?

“She knew every name by heart. Not that I expected anything less, of course,” Dominic replied. “And now, Your Highness”—he bowed low—“with your permission, I will retire indoors. My tired old bones are cold and would be happy for a little rest.”

“It is cold today, isn’t it?” I replied.

Dominic straightened up with a snap.

“What did you say?” he barked.

“I said I thought that it was cold today,” I answered. “In fact, I can’t remember when ...” As the enormity of what I was saying hit me, my voice trailed off.

“What? What is it?” I heard Kai ask.

“I’m cold,” I whispered. “Oh, Kai, I’m cold.”

“It’s happened at last,” Dominic said, and I could hear the awe and wonder in his voice. “The last heart, her own, has been made whole. She is herself again, a Winter Child no longer.”

At this, a great cheer went up. The servants who had gathered to welcome us fell to their knees as if with one body.

“Please,” I said through teeth that suddenly wanted very badly to chatter. “Please rise. If I’m cold, I’m sure you are too. Let us all go inside.”

But as I went to walk, I swayed on my feet, as if my body was suddenly a foreigner to itself. At once, Kai was at my side. He took off his cloak and draped
it around my shoulders. It was warm from his body. He placed one arm around my back. With one hand, he grasped my elbow, firmly.

“Let us go in,” he said.

And so I entered the palace of ice with Kai’s arm around me.

A short time later we were seated in the tower room, Kai, Grace, and I. Dominic had retired to his rooms. I had changed from my traveling clothes to a gown of pale blue silk, with a dark blue shawl around my shoulders. I was still having trouble adjusting to the cold.

Before I’d joined Kai and Grace, I’d stood in front of the mirror in my room, studying my reflection for several moments. My face looked much as it always had. But my hair and eyes were both growing darker. All save a streak of white hair beginning at my left temple, a permanent reminder of my years as a Winter Child. I lifted a hand to touch it.

I’m glad it’s there,
I thought.
I spent too much time as a Winter Child for that part of me to ever be forgotten.