Up close, the Winter King looked even less like a safe decision.
He didn’t stop walking until he was right in front of me, close enough that I had to tip my head back to meet his eyes. The room around us blurred into a bunch of vaguely fancy shapes. All I could see clearly was him.
Those eyes were a pale, icy blue, so light they almost glowed. Up close, I could see a darker ring around the edge of the iris, like the outline of a frozen lake. They hit me like a blast of cold air and something warmer underneath that I absolutely did not want to identify.
He froze when he saw me. Not physically—his cloak still settled around his boots, his chest still rose and fell—but emotionally. It was like someone hit pause on his face.
For a heartbeat, all that kingly blankness dropped. Shock flashed
