Chapter 13

Winter slams into the borderland without warning. By morning, snow has smothered the peaks. The cold finds me easily; even swaddled in heavy fox fur, my fingers remain blood-red and numb.

Jason returns from camp patrol and sees me huddled by the window, a book open in my lap. His brows draw together. Without speaking, he swings his heavy cloak around my shoulders and slips a small hand-warmer into my palm.

"The borderland's brutal. Bundle up," he says, voice low, before turning to leave.

I stare at his retreating back, a warmth spreading through me that has nothing to do with the cloak.

That night I spot two braziers in the room; their flames snap softly, nudging the cold aside. Talia leans close and murmurs that Jason carried them up himself, saying I feel the chill too keenly and asking her to keep the fire fed.

My fingers brush the warm bedding, and a smile tugs at my lips.

The next morning Jason leaves again on patrol. I sit embroidering by the window when I notice a small parcel on the table—osmanthus candied fruit from Belmor Town, soft and delicately sweet.

"What's this?" I ask.

Talia grins. "The general grabbed them at the market this morning. Said it was on his way."

I pop one in my mouth, the sweetness melting on my tongue. I'd mentioned liking these once, in passing. He remembered.

That evening, I'm in the kitchen when Jason walks in. "Jason, taste this!" I offer him a bowl of steaming noodles, my eyes shining with anticipation. "I picked it up from the cook."

He hesitates, takes up the bowl, and tastes a spoonful.

"Well?" I ask apprehensively.

"Not so bad," he says.

"I am galvanised. I will make some more to-morrow."

I turn to knead some more of the dough, and I playfully smear some over his face. He wipes it off without anger, his eyes mellowing for one brief instant.

And I know it is there.

I laugh to myself and feel my heart turn a little somersault.

In the ensuing days I seem to "run across" him.

When he is in his study with military scrolls I offer to grind ink.

"Let me help you," I say sweetly.

He looks up, but does not refuse.

My fingers touch his as I hand him the brush, and he stiffens a little but does not answer. "Thanks," he says.

He is rather aloof but does not push me away.

Therefore I resolve to be a little bolder.

The first snow has barely begun to soften when I rise, pulling on my riding clothes and knotting my hair high.

A glance in the mirror confirms everything is in place; I accept the whip Talia offers. "Sharp as ever today, Leah," she says, smiling.

"Is the general at the training grounds?" I ask, lips curving.

"Yep, since dawn."

At the field, Jason's drilling soldiers. Sunlight catches his sharp features, softening their edges with a warm glow. "General," I call softly.

He turns, his eyes flickering when he sees me. "What're you doing here?" he asks, striding over.

I wave the whip. "Wanna learn to ride."

He frowns. "borderland horses are wild. Not for beginners."

"Then teach me?" I tilt my head, hopeful.

He hesitates, then nods. "Alright."

He picks a gentle mare, leading her to me. "Mount up."

I fumble with the stirrups, struggling to climb. He steps in, his hands steadying my waist, lifting me effortlessly onto the saddle. His touch is warm, firm, searing through my clothes.

My cheeks heat as I grip the reins. "Relax," he says, standing beside the horse. "Legs tight on the flanks, don't yank the reins."

I follow his instructions, the mare plodding forward. "General, I did it!" I call, grinning back at him.

In the sunlight, my smile feels bright as summer. He stares, then looks away. "Good."

"I wanna go faster," I say, eager.

He frowns. "Too risky."

"You're here. I'm not scared," I say, a playful lilt sneaking into my voice.

He pauses, then mounts his warhorse, staying close. "Go slow."

We ride toward a hill outside the pack, my confidence growing. "Jason, race you!" I call, flicking the whip. My mare bolts.

"Leah!" he shouts, spurring his horse after me.

The wind roars in my ears, my heart pounding with thrill and nerves. Then a rabbit darts across the path, spooking my mare. She rears, and I scream, tumbling backward.