The Frost Maiden's Kiss Read Free

dismounted and pushed back his hood, looking around with appreciation.
    “This is your legacy?” Rafael demanded, his own expression much less pleased. “You have inherited a ruin, my friend!”
    “And I will see it rebuilt,” Malcolm said with resolve. He straightened and eyed his companion. “You are welcome to stay, if you so choose. If you go, I will not be offended.”
    Rafael’s glance slipped to the loaded horses, and Malcolm remembered that they both knew the packs to be filled with gold and silver.
    Perhaps it had not been the best choice to ensure that he was alone with his fortune in the company of a ruthless mercenary.
    Perhaps he was too tired to think clearly. He and Rafael had fought back to back a hundred times, and each had returned to save the other at risk. Malcolm reminded himself that he could trust Rafael.
    He took a bucket and tried the well, gladdened to find that the water was still abundant and clear. He fetched water for the steeds, returning to the stables to find that Rafael had removed their trap and started to brush down his own horse. There was still some hay and oats, as well as a few bundles of straw. Rafael’s brows rose as he surveyed the former majesty of stables, but for once, he held his tongue.
    The two warriors worked together in silence, tending their horses and ensuring that the animals’ needs were met. For Rafael, Malcolm expected that this labor was part of ensuring his arsenal remained in good care: a horse was a weapon and a tool, no more than that. Good care would ensure the steed survived longer and performed better, providing greater value for coin spent.
    It had never been that way for Malcolm. The horses were as important to him as people, perhaps more so. He knew their characters and their preferences and was devastated by the loss of a single one. That was why he had not taken one of the black destriers bred by his family with him when he had left. Malcolm had known he rode to war, and he did not want to sacrifice such a majestic steed.
    The lineage of those who had bred horses at Ravensmuir ran in his veins and the prospect of continuing that legacy pleased him. He kindled a fire on the hearth that had been used by the ostler as the steeds ate, aware that Rafael was pacing the length of the stables.
    “Your family did well in their trade,” he said quietly when he returned to watch Malcolm. “It has been a long time since I have seen a stable of such generous proportions and grace.”
    “They also bred horses.”
    “The black destriers of Ravensmuir,” Rafael said softly. Malcolm turned in surprise. “Oh, they are of great renown, even amongst the Saracens. I have heard of them but never seen one. I thought, actually, that they must be a fable.” He stretched out his hands to the growing blaze with obvious pleasure, then turned to look again. Malcolm followed his gaze, eying the carved wood edges of the stalls and the vaulted roof overhead, also adorned with carvings.
    “Many a man would be glad to be sheltered so well,” Rafael said, his tone wry. “You keep your promises, my friend.” He watched Malcolm carefully. “You pledged to return here, did you not?”
    “And to rebuild. And I will.” Some good had to come of his deeds and his years of service. Malcolm had long ago decided that the rebuilding of Ravensmuir would be that good end.
    Rafael nodded, his gaze wandering over the building. “And so it is, when a man loses his heart to a dream.” His tone was uncharacteristically thoughtful, but before Malcolm could ask him to explain, music floated through the stables. It was beautiful music, more skillfully played than any Malcolm had heard before. He turned to look toward the back of the stable, where the music seemed to emanate, and saw a golden glow of light there. How could this be?
    To his relief, Rafael saw it as well. The other man turned silently on his heel, drawing his knife and sparing Malcolm a nod. His posture indicated that he