to escape, to move somehow, but he could not, chill as he was. He tried to blink, but failed, as if they were frozen open watching thousands freeze around him, even as ice built around him. Somewhere, he could hear rain, icy droplets … falling, coating him with yet more ice.
He shuddered, trying to escape the endless ice and chill.
Suddenly there was light all around him, light so bright he could hardly see, but he was cold, so cold he was shivering, even with all the sunlight.
Before he could say anything, Vaelora’s arms were around him. “It’s all right, dearest. It’s all right.”
Her words did not register with him, not for several moments, because they were in Bovarian. “What…?” he murmured, half mumbling because his lips were so cold they felt numb.
“It’s all right. I’m here. I’m right here.”
She’ll freeze, too. “… chill you … the way…”
“I’m warm enough. Just hold on to me. Talk to me. Tell me what happened.” With her arms wrapped around him, slowly the cold deep within him began to melt away.
Later, when they finally moved apart, at least enough for Vaelora to look at him, worry in her eyes, she asked, “What was it? The ice storm? You were so cold.” She swallowed. “The walls…”
“What is it?” Quaeryt could see the concern on her face.
“You started shivering in your sleep, and then there was frost. It was all over the walls.”
He glanced around the bedchamber.
“It’s all melted now.” She laughed uneasily. “It is full summer. But can’t you feel how cool everything is?”
Quaeryt managed not to shudder again. Did you image in your sleep? Enough to cause frost to form?
“Were you dreaming? About the ice storm you caused?”
He nodded. “It was worse than that. I was fighting the battle again, and I didn’t want to image and kill thousands again, but they kept coming … and coming.” He shuddered in spite of himself.
“What you’ve been doing with the regiment isn’t the only reason you’re tired, is it?”
“No…” he admitted warily.
“Tell me about it. All about it.” Her words, gently as they were spoken, were not a request.
“This wasn’t the first time. I dream about getting caught in the rain, being frozen in place, along with the … thousands of others … the Bovarians … some of ours … I try to escape … but I can’t.” He finally shook his head. “I struggle with the ice until I wake up.”
“Does where you sleep feel cold to you when you finally wake up?”
“How could I tell? I always wake up cold and shivering, no matter how hot it was the night before.” After a moment he added, “I never saw frost … but I never looked for it, either.”
Vaelora offered a smile.
Quaeryt suspected she’d forced the expression, but he smiled back.
“You do make the bedchamber more comfortable in summer,” she said quickly. “It was rather warm … until…”
He looked at her, pale in the morning light. “How long have you been awake?”
“A glass, I’d guess. You were so tired, and I didn’t want to wake you, then…”
“You’re hungry, enough to feel faint, aren’t you?”
“That seems to be happening more, now that…”
Quaeryt sat up in the wide bed. “We need to get you something to eat.”
“You’re not doing much better than I am.”
Quaeryt laughed. “Then we need breakfast.” As he put his feet on the floor a moment of light-headedness swept over him, suggesting he had indeed been imaging as he dreamed. How had that happened? He managed not to frown, not wanting to worry Vaelora any more than he already had.
They washed and dressed quickly. Even so, by the time they reached the terrace, the hold house servers had moved the table closer to the study so that it still rested in the morning shadows. Tea and lager were waiting for them, and two platters appeared almost immediately, with biscuits, omelets, and strips of fried ham.
Neither said much until they had each
He shuddered, trying to escape the endless ice and chill.
Suddenly there was light all around him, light so bright he could hardly see, but he was cold, so cold he was shivering, even with all the sunlight.
Before he could say anything, Vaelora’s arms were around him. “It’s all right, dearest. It’s all right.”
Her words did not register with him, not for several moments, because they were in Bovarian. “What…?” he murmured, half mumbling because his lips were so cold they felt numb.
“It’s all right. I’m here. I’m right here.”
She’ll freeze, too. “… chill you … the way…”
“I’m warm enough. Just hold on to me. Talk to me. Tell me what happened.” With her arms wrapped around him, slowly the cold deep within him began to melt away.
Later, when they finally moved apart, at least enough for Vaelora to look at him, worry in her eyes, she asked, “What was it? The ice storm? You were so cold.” She swallowed. “The walls…”
“What is it?” Quaeryt could see the concern on her face.
“You started shivering in your sleep, and then there was frost. It was all over the walls.”
He glanced around the bedchamber.
“It’s all melted now.” She laughed uneasily. “It is full summer. But can’t you feel how cool everything is?”
Quaeryt managed not to shudder again. Did you image in your sleep? Enough to cause frost to form?
“Were you dreaming? About the ice storm you caused?”
He nodded. “It was worse than that. I was fighting the battle again, and I didn’t want to image and kill thousands again, but they kept coming … and coming.” He shuddered in spite of himself.
“What you’ve been doing with the regiment isn’t the only reason you’re tired, is it?”
“No…” he admitted warily.
“Tell me about it. All about it.” Her words, gently as they were spoken, were not a request.
“This wasn’t the first time. I dream about getting caught in the rain, being frozen in place, along with the … thousands of others … the Bovarians … some of ours … I try to escape … but I can’t.” He finally shook his head. “I struggle with the ice until I wake up.”
“Does where you sleep feel cold to you when you finally wake up?”
“How could I tell? I always wake up cold and shivering, no matter how hot it was the night before.” After a moment he added, “I never saw frost … but I never looked for it, either.”
Vaelora offered a smile.
Quaeryt suspected she’d forced the expression, but he smiled back.
“You do make the bedchamber more comfortable in summer,” she said quickly. “It was rather warm … until…”
He looked at her, pale in the morning light. “How long have you been awake?”
“A glass, I’d guess. You were so tired, and I didn’t want to wake you, then…”
“You’re hungry, enough to feel faint, aren’t you?”
“That seems to be happening more, now that…”
Quaeryt sat up in the wide bed. “We need to get you something to eat.”
“You’re not doing much better than I am.”
Quaeryt laughed. “Then we need breakfast.” As he put his feet on the floor a moment of light-headedness swept over him, suggesting he had indeed been imaging as he dreamed. How had that happened? He managed not to frown, not wanting to worry Vaelora any more than he already had.
They washed and dressed quickly. Even so, by the time they reached the terrace, the hold house servers had moved the table closer to the study so that it still rested in the morning shadows. Tea and lager were waiting for them, and two platters appeared almost immediately, with biscuits, omelets, and strips of fried ham.
Neither said much until they had each
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