The Midwinter Mail-Order Bride (The Dead Lands, #1; Mail-Order Brides, #4)

by Kati Wilde

Into the quiet between them, he said, “Pure magics don’t steal. They create, and add into the world something that wasn’t there before—and the result is not the opposite. Kindness does not beget cruelty. Instead it begets hope and comfort.” Anja had not thought she could be any more astonished. Yet understanding slipped through her on another wave of wonder. She stared at him wide-eyed, and when he suddenly grinned at her, the giddiness that had been building within her burst into a laugh. “This is true!” “It is.” “And love does not beget hate—but hate must beget that which is similar. Pain, fear.”

“The most plenty?” His gaze caught hers, shining with intense blue fire.

Her parents exchanged a weary glance. Her father said, “Forgive me, your majesty. Anja has an unguarded tongue. If she has lied to you and said—” “Do not disparage my queen!” His thundering roar echoed through the courtyard. “I have told you what she is. And if I ever hear word that you do not speak of Anja with the respect she deserves, then all of Ivermere will soon afterward discover exactly why I am called Kael the Conqueror.”

the king sweeps platters to the floor—then lifts his queen from her golden throne and seats her on the table before him. A sigh rises from many of those who sup, for this has happened before: the king will roar for them all to begone, because he has a royal feast to eat. But this time, no roar comes. The king is silent, staring up at his wife’s face in awe and adoration, his great palm flattened over her belly…which is very slightly rounder than it was the year before.