Winter's Bride - Candace Wondrak Page 0,39

on.

Popping into her room, I found her sitting on her bed, her hands in her lap, looking quite morose and uncertain. My body ached for her, my heart feeling sorry she had to go through all this. What a journey this entire thing had been, but I hoped we neared the happily ever after part.

When I appeared before her, Morana’s head looked up. Sunlight streamed through the windowpane in her room, illuminating everything in a beautiful, warm orange glow, a glow that was often missing in this castle. Perhaps an omen of what was to come.

“Ishan,” she whispered my name, a prayer on her tongue. “What are you doing here?” When I made no moves to answer, acting as if I was mute, she glanced around, sighing. “Never mind that. I suppose I should start getting ready. I never thought I’d have to be alone on the morning of my wedding, but—” Whatever else she was about to say died in her throat as I handed her the letter.

“Perhaps,” I offered her the letter in my hands as I spoke, “you should read this first, before donning that wedding gown.” It was a dream come true, in a way; I never expected Abner to step aside and let me have her, not when he was so stubborn when it came to everything, but I would not look the gift horse in the mouth.

To think, I’d been prepping myself for a fight. Not a war or anything like that, but I would not let myself stand back and allow Morana to wed Abner without getting myself in the middle of it. Without helping her.

Morana narrowed her gaze at me, and she was measured in standing and snatching the letter from my hand. She opened it with a swiftness that was only matched by the quickness with which she read the note. Those pretty greyish blue eyes darted up to me, her brows furrowing as she said, “What…” Trailing off, she had to read the letter again, and then she flipped the parchment over, as if she expected something to be on the back.

There wasn’t.

When she turned it, I saw the handwriting of my brother. A short letter, signed by him, and I could guess what it said. In no uncertain terms: the wedding was off. Morana was free. Free to live her life and come with me, become Summer’s bride instead of Winter’s.

“What is this?” she asked, her voice catching. The hand holding the paper trembled, and I hope it trembled with sheer joy of the sudden turn of events and not for another reason… such as she had been looking forward to marrying my brother.

No, she’d been kissed by Summer, by me, all her life. If there was a god she should be excited to wed, it should be me.

“There will be no wedding between you and my brother,” I told her, watching as the arm holding the letter fell to her side. I wanted to rush to her, sweep her in my arms, and steal a kiss—and then I wanted to steal another. For the rest of her life, I wanted her by my side.

Morana let out an incredulous gasp, and then her expression changed. Instead of being happy, instead of being thrilled—as she should be, for to marry my brother would be to dig her own grave—she was the very opposite. She was… angry?

“So, what?” she asked, cocking her head with defiance. “I’m supposed to leave with you, go to your castle and marry you instead?” Morana threw down the parchment, huffing herself up and staring me square in the eye. “I do not know what you think of me, Ishan, but it must not be flattering, for you to think I would just accept whatever fate you two have decided. I am not some pawn you two can push around!”

I said nothing, only blinking at her, unsure why she was so upset. Silence permeated the space between us, and I took my time in saying, “Tell me what you want, Morana, and I will give it to you.”

“I want—” She started to say something, but then she bit the inside of her cheek and looked away. Morana’s feet drew her to the window, the sun dancing across her tanned skin, illuminating it in a beautiful glow. When she stood in the sunlight, her yellow hair sparkled golden, the light in her eyes more blue than grey.

She was everything, truly. I did not know how my brother could