Free Ice Like Fire by Sara Raasch Page B

pulling aside resources from every shipment to help rebuild our treasury.”
    Shock flows over me. “How . . . how much?”
    Mather glances at the paper. “Five crates. Which isn’t a lot, I know, but I didn’t want the Cordellans to realize that some of their precious payment is gone.”
    He’s been helping me, helping Winter, in ways I didn’t even know I needed.
    I surge forward and lock my fingers around his arm. “Thank—”
    His eyes drop to my grip, every part of his body freezing at my touch. I don’t pull back and his gaze lifts higher, rising up my arm. My other arm sits tucked inside a tight, ivory sleeve, but this one is bare to my collarbone. I hadn’t realized how much more revealing it is than what I usually wear—or what I used to wear, around him. A shirt and pants and boots.
    And when Mather’s eyes meet mine, his cheeks flush such a deep scarlet that not even the dimness of this room can hide it. A coldness rushes down me, the biting sensation of falling into a pile of snow, every part of my body tingling and alert. I’m swarmed with the feeling of being exposed yet too covered up all at once, and the longer he peers at me, the colder my body grows.
    I jerk away from him and coil my fingers into my palm.
    He swallows, throat convulsing. “I’m glad I could help. But . . .” He stops. “You’re already a better ruler than I ever was.”
    I shake my head to fight the way Mather looks at me, as if he’s studying me, noting how close we are, how much closer we could be. I wanted him back in my life to have support, someone to help me save our kingdom—not another complication.
    But my heart says otherwise, knocking against my ribs in deliberate, persistent pulses.
    He helped Winter. He isn’t dissolving at the mention of problems or trying to avoid issues.
    “Five crates,” I echo. “I wonder if that will be enough.”
    Mather shakes back into our conversation. “How much are you thinking?”
    I smile. The lingering pinkness in Mather’s cheeks deepens.
    “More,” I tell him. “A lot more. Enough to send one final message to Noam.”
    Mather nods. “I’m a proponent of any plan that irks him.”
    I laugh. It echoes through me, sharp and bumping, and I clap my palms over my mouth.
    “You’re allowed to laugh,” Mather chuckles at my surprise.
    The part of me that spent so long missing him sighs, content.
    Footsteps echo down the hall, ricocheting off the stone like pebbles falling down a mountainside. I turn when Sir comes to stand beside me.
    “My queen.” Sir glances past me to Mather, who shoots up straight, shoulders rolling back in a sudden stance of alertness. But Sir doesn’t pay him more than a glance, his attention dipping back to me. “We need to speak about the trip.”
    “I know—but not just yet.” I turn to Mather again. The idea he planted sprouts roots and unfurls wide leaves, fostering a harvest of recklessness similar to the wild girl I used to be.
    But while that girl made mistakes, she is the reason I have a kingdom to rule. I owe it to myself to at least try to be her again, in some small way.
    “Where did you put those five crates?” I ask Mather.
    His stance relaxes and he waves his arm out for me to follow him.
    Down another hall, up two rooms, Mather stops, leading the party of Sir, Conall, Garrigan, and me. He digs a key out of his pocket and unlocks a door, swinging it wide to reveal a grime-covered space even smaller than the rooms we were just near.
    But in the back stand five crates, each stuffed with lumpy pieces of Winter’s future.
    I pivot to Sir. “At the ceremony tonight, bring only these five crates.”
    Sir blinks. “My queen, Cordell is expecting far more than this.”
    “They will get what they deserve in time. But for now . . . we have a greater need.”
    Sir’s veil of formality lifts, showing a flash of his worry. “Cordell is our only ally, my queen. It is not wise to anger them.”
    I know, and I almost tell him that,