Winter's Bride - Candace Wondrak Page 0,23

this castle is just as much mine as it is yours. I am well aware there will be… wifely duties, but beyond that, I want to do what I like, and I will—I did not bend to my parents, and I will bend to no man, god or no god.”

My hand, the one not currently fisted and holding up my head on the armrest of the throne curled, the gloves on my fingers feeling suddenly too tight, too restrictive. My voice came out low and quiet, almost a whisper, “You should watch how you speak to me, Morana.”

In fact, I could not remember anyone ever talking to me quite like that before. Not any of my brides. My brother was the only one who’d ever come close to speaking with me as she did, but even then, my brother was always flippant, smooth and easygoing. This girl? She was abrasive and rough, serious in every way. She meant each word she’d told me.

She gave me a smile. I could not tell if she was merely trying to puff herself up and act tough, or if this was truly the girl my messenger had brought me. The attitude radiated off her in waves, and I didn’t know if I liked it or not.

Morana made me confused, which was more than anyone else had done. Was it better to feel confused than to not feel anything at all?

“I’m not afraid of you,” she said, a lie, but I let her proclaim it loudly, let her tell me off. “I refuse to be. A woman should not be afraid of her husband.”

I breathed out, watching her shiver right afterward, probably due to her sheer closeness to me. Even her fire could not keep her warm from my eternal cold. “We are not married yet,” I reminded her, not sure why I was saying it. I did not want her to be afraid of me, but I… I wanted some ounce of respect from her. Something.

Something other than the loathing hatred that seemed to ooze out of her as she looked at me.

“You’re right,” she admitted. “We aren’t. If you were any other man, you’d be trying to woo me right now.” Morana took a step away from me, letting those eyes study me. My appearance, my face, my posture; all of me. “Goodnight, Abner.” She called me Abner against my wishes, and then she turned on her heel and walked away, leaving me alone to replay the entire incident.

Long after she was gone, I sat on the throne, wondering what had happened. Morana was… not what I’d been expecting. Not at all.

Woo? Surely she did not mean she wanted me to try to woo her in the next two days? I was Winter. I was a king, a god. I did not have to woo anyone; everyone else simply had to do as I wished.

The glowing ice on the candelabras began to burn orange, and I rolled my eyes and let out a groan as someone appeared next to me, leaning on my throne and looking far too happy with himself.

My brother, of course, for who else would it be?

Ishan was exactly as he’d been the last time I’d seen him, wearing the same clothes and everything. We were brothers, but our appearances could not have been more different. Whereas he was day, I was night. His skin was a dark brown, touched by the sun and its warmth, while mine was as white as flesh could be. Same with our hair, though his was more of a honeyed brown than black. Mine was white.

The clothes we wore fit with our seasons; he always wore warm colors, browns and greens and tans, while I stuck to light blues and soft purples and whites. Such as it was now.

“So,” he spoke, his voice sounding far too amused, “you’ve met your next bride, I see.”

I did not get off the throne, didn’t even look at him as I muttered, “I did, and I am not impressed with what she has to offer.” Even as I said it, I knew it wasn’t quite true. If I was truly not impressed, I wouldn’t have been thinking of her long after she left this hall, wouldn’t have replayed her words again in my head and pictured the light in her eyes as she’d said it.

“And I,” Ishan spoke, pushing off the throne to stand before me, wearing a knowing smirk, “do believe you are, as the humans say,