Elaaron …
Elaaron …
Snowflakes fell vertically and settled on roof tiles, on a chimney-pot, in his cupped palm. The feather-light kisses turned quickly to needle-pricks of cold. In the room behind him, Alara whinged at the icy draught. He closed the heavy windows and the tapestry curtains. She yelped as he wrapped his icy palm around her forehead, and then he bent to kiss the spot.
He rearranged cushions in the inglenook, and she snuggled against his side. A small explosion from the fire startled them both and set Elaaron thinking of black powder. The hand-fasting of Olwin to Lendel had come at a price—in black powder, the barrels to be quietly delivered to Lucan when the weather was more predictable. In return, Lucan would see Olwin’s inherited debt paid. No one knew of the arrangement
