Michael Sullivan: Wintertide

"Wait!" Hadrian called. He struggled to stand and follow, but it was useless. Royce was already gone.

The Queen's Gambit Accepted It was late as Arista walked the balcony of her room. The storm from the night before had left the handrails mounded with snow, and icicles dangled from the eaves. In the light of the nearly full moon everything was so pretty, like a fairytale. Pulling her cloak tight, Arista lifted the hood such that she looked out through a fur-lined tunnel. Still the cold reached her. She considered going back inside, but she needed to be out. She needed to see the sky.

Arista could not sleep. She felt uneasy-restless.

Despite her exhaustion, sleeping was nearly impossible. The nightmares were not a surprise given what she had gone through. She often woke in the dark, covered in sweat, certain she was still in the dungeon-certain that the sounds of snow blowing against the window were the scratches of a rat named Jasper. Afterward, lying awake brought thoughts of Hadrian. The hours of darkness trapped in that hole had stripped her bare and forced her to face the truth. In Arista's most desperate moment, her thoughts had turned to him. The mere sound of his voice had saved her, and the thoughts of her own death were extinguished when she feared he was hurt.

She was in love with Hadrian.

The revelation was bitter, as it was clear he did not feel the same. In those last hours, the only words that passed his lips were ones of common comfort, the same encouragement anyone would give. He might care about her, but he did not love her. In one way, she found that a blessing, as every man who ever did had died. She could not bear to see Hadrian die as well. She concluded they would remain friends. Close friends, she hoped, but she would not endanger that friendship by admitting anything more. She wondered if somewhere Hilfred was watching her and laughing at the irony or crying in sympathy.

Still, it was not thoughts of Jasper or Hadrian that kept Arista walking the balcony that night. Another ghost stalked her troubled mind, whispering memories. Something was happening. She had felt it building ever since they pulled her from the prison. At first she assumed it was the lingering effect of starvation, a form of light-headedness affecting her senses. Now she realized it was more than that.

"…at Wintertide the Uli Vermar ends. They will come-without the horn everyone dies. Only you know now-only you can save…"

The words of Esrahaddon echoed in her head, but she could not understand what they meant.

What is the Uli Vermar? And who is coming?

Something had clearly happened. Somehow the world had changed on Wintertide. She could feel it. She could taste it. The air sizzled with the sensation. While she had known how to tap the natural power of the world, Arista was shocked to discover that the world could talk back, speaking to her in a language she did not fully understand. It came in subtle impressions, vague feelings she might have previously dismissed as imagination. All the signals spoke of a great shift. She, like every living thing in tune with the natural world, was aware of the change just as they were aware of the approaching dawn. Something about this Wintertide was different. Something rare, something old, something great had transpired. Her eyes looked to the northeast. It was there, hurtling toward them.

They are coming.

"Anne said you were out here," a voice startled her.

Arista spun to see Modina standing behind her. She wore a simple kirtle dress. Her arms folded across her chest, fending off the cold. She looked more like the girl Arista had first met in Dahlgren than an empress.

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you," Modina said.

Arista gathered herself and curtseyed as best she could. "Not at all, Your Eminence."

Modina sighed. "Please don't. I have enough people kissing the floor. I refuse to take it from you. And I'm sorry for taking so long to visit."

"You are the empress-the real empress. I'm sure your time is limited. And because I am still the Ambassador of Melengar, I really should greet and address you properly."

Modina frowned. "Perhaps, but can't we skip the formalities when in private?"

"If that is your wish."

"I wanted to let you know that we are officially allies now. I signed a preferred trade agreement and defense pact this morning with Alric."

"That's wonderful." Arista smiled. "Although you're putting me out of a job, by going over my head like that."

"Can we go inside? It's freezing out here." Modina led the way back into Arista's room.

In the dim light, Arista noticed something lying folded neatly on the bed.

"I was so worried about you," Modina whispered as she unexpectedly hugged the princess, squeezing her tight. "And just so you know, I did visit you-nearly every night, you've just been asleep."

"You saved my life, my brother, and my kingdom," Arista replied, returning the embrace. "Do you really think I can feel slighted by you?"

Modina let go. "I'm sorry it took so long. I'm sorry that you had to stay in that…that…place. I didn't save Deacon Thomas, and I didn't save Hilfred. Perhaps if I had acted sooner…"

"Don't," Arista said, seeing the empress's eyes watering. "You have nothing to apologize for."

Modina wiped the tears and nodded. "I wanted to give you something…something special." She walked to the bed and held up a familiar robe, which unfolded in shimmering cascades.

"Do you recognize it?"

Arista nodded.

"I can't imagine there are two such robes in all the world. I think he would want you to have it, and so do I."

Modina had just left Arista's room and was passing Degan's half-open door when he called out, "Hang on there!"

She pushed the door open and stood in the threshold, looking at him.

Tall and still very thin, he sat in bed propped against a bank of pillows. "My chamber pot needs emptying, and the room is starting to stink. Wanna get in here and take care of it?"

"I'm not the chambermaid," Modina replied.

"Oh? Are you a nurse? Cause I'm still not feeling well. I could use some more food. Some beef would be nice-steak perhaps?"

"I'm not a nurse or scullery maid, either."

Degan looked irritated. "What good are you, then? Listen, I just got out of the dungeon, and they literally starved me. I deserve some sympathy. I need more food."

"If you want, I can walk you down to the kitchen and we can find something there."

"You're joking, right? Didn't you just hear what I said? I'm sick, I'm weak. I'm not about to go rummaging around like a rodent."

"You won't regain your strength by sitting in bed."

"I thought you said you weren't the nurse. Listen, if you won't bring it to me, find someone who will. Don't you realize who I am?"

"You're Degan Gaunt."

"Yes, but do you know who I am?"

She looked at him, puzzled. "I'm sorry…I don't kn-"

"Can you keep a secret?" he asked, leaning forward and speaking in a conspiratorial tone.

Modina nodded.

"As it turns out, I'm the Heir of Novron." Modina feigned surprise and Gaunt grinned in reply. "I know-I was shocked, too. I only recently learned myself."

"But I thought Empress Modina was the heir."

"From what I heard, that's just what the old regents wanted everyone to believe."

"So, do you plan to overthrow the empress?"

"Don't need to," he said with a wink. "I heard she's young and beautiful, so I figure I'll just marry her. I also hear she's popular too, so I can benefit from the goodwill she already has. See how smart that is?"

"What if she won't marry you?"

"Hah! Why wouldn't she? I'm the Heir of Novron. You can't do no better than that."

Modina noticed Gaunt looking her over more intently. His tongue licked his upper lip, sliding back and forth. "Say, you're kinda pretty, you know that?" He glanced past her, into the hallway. "What do ya say you shut the door and slip on over here?" He patted the covers.