The Winter King (Weathermages of Mystral, #1)

by C.L. Wilson

“Don’t fight so hard against things you can’t change, child. You’ll batter yourself to death. Learn to change what you can and accept what you can’t. Be the palm that bends in the wind to withstand the gale.”

Her Royal Highness, Angelica Mariposa Rosalind Khamsin Gianna Coruscate.

That was the insidious price of the Ice Heart. Each use of its power, no matter how minute, robbed him of some irretrievable portion of his humanity. After three years of war and death, so little of his former self remained, he felt even the tiniest additional loss like a hammer to the heart. He could literally feel himself growing more distant, more unfeeling, more like the dread, soulless monster of legend.

Her passion had far less care than his, more savagery. She was a child of the elements, a mage of storms. Rarely gentle. And never well behaved.

Storms, for all their rage and potential danger, were cleansing and ultimately calming.

“Idiots and frost brains,” she muttered as she stalked out after finishing. “That’s what men are. I’ve no idea why Freika ever bothered creating you. She should have recognized perfection when she created woman and stopped while she was ahead.”

Garrick would have liked her, Wynter decided. He would have liked her very much.

His queen, who had been an outcast in her own home all her life, would not be an outcast in his.

His wolf had recognized Khamsin as its mate. She might betray him to her family, torment him unto madness, bring his kingdom to ruin, but come good or ill, love or hatred, trust or betrayal, Wynter of the Craig would never take another woman to wife. Because when snow wolves mated, they mated for life. “Whatever you do, Khamsin, don’t betray me,” he whispered. “Don’t ever betray me.”

“A giant ice wolf, they called it,” Kham muttered as she scrambled up the tree. “Ice wolf, my ass. Show me one wolf—just one!—that can climb a tree!”