Page 3 of Snowed In With the Dragon Kings

Her smile turns sympathetic, and that's so much worse than if she'd been angry. "Elara, love. Why would I keep something like this a secret? This is wonderful news."

"It isn't."

"Of course it is! The elders will be delighted." She squeezes my hand. "And you know who'll be the most delighted of all."

My stomach turns over.

"Lord Silas," she says, all but sighing his name. "That poor man has been after you for years. Handsome, wealthy, and his family owns half the land around here. He could give you anything you wanted. Fine dresses. A big house. Servants, even."

"I don't want servants."

"Every woman wants servants." She laughs. "You've always been too stubborn to see what's right in front of you. Maybe this is the gods' way of nudging you along. A heat has a way of making a girl less particular."

I'm going to be sick. And this time, it's got nothing to do with the cramps.

Everyone in this village sees Lord Silas Brusteen the same way. Charming. Generous. The kind of man who tips his hat to old women and tosses coins to children. A catch.

They don't see what he's like when nobody's watching.

When it's just the two of us, he talks about my refusals like they're a puddle he has to step around on his way to getting what he wants. He talks about my future like it's already been decided, and I'm just being rude by not agreeing to it. Even his compliments feel like insults. I can't imagine waking up next to that man every morning for the rest of my life, knowing that nothing I think or want will ever matter to him.

I'd rather freeze.

"I'll send my boy to the elders," the baker's wife says, already untying her apron. "They'll want to start making arrangements right away, especially with the solstice coming. Oh, a winter wedding! Wouldn't that be lovely?"

"Please," I try one last time. "Please, just give me a few days. Don't tell them."

She shakes her head, still smiling, and pats my cheek like I'm a child. "You'll understand someday, sweetheart. You'll thank me."

No. I won't.

I snatch up my basket, shove the spilled herbs back inside, and get to my feet. The room spins, but I don't care.

"Elara, your bread⁠—"

I'm already out the door.

The cold slams into me, and gods, it feels wonderful. I suck in a lungful of icy air and let it cool my burning face. The bells on the door jingle behind me, cheerful as ever, like they have no idea my life just fell apart.

I start walking. Fast.

My thoughts are racing faster than my feet. How long until she sends her son? How long until he reaches the elders? An hour? Less? The elders will go straight to Silas. Silas will come straight to me.

So I can't be home when he gets there.

I need to reach my cottage, throw some clothes and food in a bag, and be gone before anyone thinks to come knocking. That's it. That's the whole plan. It's a terrible plan. It's also the only one I've got.

Another wave of heat rolls through me, and I stumble against a post. The street tilts. I close my eyes and wait for the dizziness to pass, then push off and keep going. Head down. Hood up. Just another woman hurrying home with her shopping.

Nothing to see here.

I'm almost to the edge of the village when I spot him.

Of course I do.

Lord Silas is standing by the stables, wearing a dark coat that probably cost more than my cottage. His blond hair is perfectly styled even in the snow, which shouldn't be possible. And when he sees me, his handsome face lights up like I'm a present someone left for him on solstice morning.

My stomach sinks right down into my boots.