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the northlands until spring. I don’t know about you, but I miss the sun. I miss walks that don’t require torchlight. Three more weeks belowground would have tested me. I don’t mind visiting, but I wouldn’t want to live in Erania.”
    I shared his sentiments exactly.
    Cheeks flushed, I hoped my face thawed so I could offer him a corresponding smile to match the thanks I owed him. To keep from relaxing into Vaughn’s warmth, I kept my body stiff as ice.
    “I don’t suppose the weather played a part in your scheme to leave early?” I wondered.
    “So now you imagine I can manipulate the elements as well?” He chuckled. “How skilled you believe me to be.” His steps slowed. “The elders foretold the coming storm, that’s true. Why waste an opportunity to bog down our enemies?” He paused. “If I hadn’t felt certain reaching the shelter was possible, I wouldn’t have risked the trip. I’m not as reckless as you pretend me to be.”
    “When did I call you reckless?” He was far from it. “Calculating. Now that title suits you.”
    “You wound me.” A grunt and a firm shove of his shoulder and the wind stopped. “I brought you this far.” He set me lightly on what must be a stool. “I suppose I might as well tend to you.” His footsteps scuffed to and fro. “We have dry wood. That’s a good start.”
    “Am I still wearing my satchel?” I asked, only half jesting. I was too numb to tell.
    “Yes.”
    “Then open it. Find my supply roll. One of the tins has a flame stamped on the lid.”
    Vaughn tugged the satchel down my arms, not my intention, but I was too stiff to make much of a fuss.
    As metal clinked, I winced. I’d almost rather go without heat than let him rifle in my things.
    “Striker, flint, starter—you were prepared.” Something brushed my leg. I assumed he set my satchel at my feet. “Since you bring the gift of fire, I suppose my offer to tend you was merited.”
    I would have laughed if it didn’t hurt to breathe.
    “Admit it.” The familiar sounds of a fire starting drifted to me. “You find me charming.”
    “I find you…” I struggled for words less insulting than the truth, “…kinder than I recalled.”
    “Hmm.” Had he moved closer? “And how did you recall me?”
    “You were Rhys’s older, more intimidating brother.” And you terrified me.
    With a hearty sigh that weighed on my conscience, he cupped my elbows and got me on my feet. Wood scraped as he kicked the stool closer to where warmth ebbed from the crackling fire.
    “Sit. I’ll melt some snow and find a rag.” Hinges groaned. Frigid air nipped at my cheeks. A door shut. Fabric tore. More metal grated. I removed my gloves and touched my eyes before he lowered my hands. We sat like that for a bit, until, “Let’s get those eyes of your open, shall we?”
    I let him tilt my head back. Water dripped to my right. Then a hot cloth was draped over the upper portion of my face. I sighed with bliss as Vaughn dipped and dabbed at me. “Thank you.”
    His hands stilled, and his reply took so long I gave up on it coming. “You’re welcome.”
    I leaned into his touch and relished playing the role of patient for once.
    Several hot cloths later, light seeped beneath a crack in my lids. For some reason I held my tongue and used the opportunity to steal a glimpse of Vaughn. His face filled my vision. His eyes were warm and held sparks from the fire. His brow crinkled, and his large, warrior’s hands were so adept as they wrung water from the cloth—which I now saw was a scrap from his shirt—and cleared the melting ice from my face. Seeing him like this snapped some tight thing in my chest.
    Water splashed as he tossed the rag. Big hands cupped my cheeks. “Try to open your eyes.”
    Blinking came easy. Though my lids were raw, pain was a distant hurdle while Vaughn kept his hands on me. His expression was too gentle, too soft. Surely it was a trick borne of firelight.
    When he leaned down, his lips a