Chapter 14

Winter hits the frontier like a sudden storm. Overnight, snow buries the mountains. I'm sensitive to cold, and even wrapped in thick fox furs, my fingers stay red and chilled.

Jason comes back from camp patrol and finds me curled up by the window with a book. His brow furrows. Without a word, he drapes his heavy cloak over my shoulders and presses a small hand-warmer into my palm.

"The frontier'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 notice two braziers in my room, their flames crackling, chasing away the chill. Talia whispers, "Jason brought them himself. Said you're sensitive to cold and told me to keep them stoked."

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

The next morning, Jason's off to patrol again. I'm embroidering by the window when I spot a small package on the table—osmanthus candied fruits from Belmor Town, sweet and soft.

"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 returns. "Jason, try this!" I hold out a steaming bowl of noodles, eyes bright with anticipation. "I learned it from the cook."

He pauses, takes the bowl, and tries a bite. "Well?" I ask, nervous.

"Not bad," he says.

I beam. "I'll make more tomorrow."

I turn to knead more dough, playfully smearing some on his cheek. He wipes it off, not angry, his eyes softening for a fleeting moment.

I laugh to myself, my heart doing a little flip.

In the days that follow, I keep "bumping into" him. When he's in his study with military scrolls, I offer to grind ink. "Let me help," I say softly.

He glances up, doesn't refuse. My fingers brush his when I hand him the brush, and he stiffens but doesn't pull away. "Thanks," he mutters.

He seems aloof, but he doesn't push me away. So I decide to push a little more.

When the first snow melts, I wake early, slipping into riding gear, my hair tied high. I check myself in the mirror, satisfied, and take the whip Talia hands me. "You look sharp today, Leah," she says with a smile.

"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. "Frontier 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."