But try as he might, Mather couldn’t get more than half-formed words to blubber out of his mouth. He knew the Thaw would eventually show physical signs of training, but he’d assumed everyone else would brush off the way his child warriors had begun to fill out their clothes more than they should as the effects of rebuilding cottages. But Alysson had noticed—Alysson, who had never done more than glance at a sword ring.
So who else knew?
She seemed to read the calculating horror on his face and put her hand on his cheek. “Of course William knows, but he’s not seeing a lot of things lately that he should.”
Mather shook his head, afraid he had misheard her. “You don’t agree with him?”
But even as he asked that question, understanding burst through him.
“He doesn’t know you brought these weapons.” His mind rang with the softest vibration of regret, and he realized that he wanted William to know. He wanted William to address this, to see what he had done, for William’s eyes to fill with the pride that Alysson’s held.
That last bit made Mather gape. “Butwhy?”
Alysson squeezed his shoulder. “You need them. And you’re my son, as much as you struggle to accept that. Youhave always been and will always be my son. That’s how relationships work—when one person is blind, the other must see for them. When one person struggles, the other must remain strong.”
Mather touched her wrist, amazement coursing through him.
Here Alysson stood, this woman he had always taken advantage of as someone who had helped the Winterian resistance in their camp, not the frontlines. Honestly he had never viewed her as a guiding source of strength. That had always fallen on William.
But Mather had been wrong.
About a lot of things.
“You shouldn’t have to be the one to put us all back together,” he whispered. The Thaw filled up the abandoned street in front of the cottage, testing weapons, laughing at how much heavier a sword was compared to their thin lengths of wood. He didn’t want them to hear, didn’t want to break this small, delicate area blossoming between him and his mother.
His mother.Frigid snow above, he’d almost thought it without balking that time.
Alysson’s smile faded. “You need me more. William too. It’s the nature of his position. I learned long ago that I have to be the one he leans on while Winter leans on him. And,” she hesitated, her brow rising conspiratorially, “if you want, someday I know you can do the same for Meira.”
Mather reeled. Alysson knew about that area of his heart too. Had anything ever gotten past her?
She leaned closer to him. “You’ve fought for Winter so spectacularly. I am more proud than I have ever been to call you my son, and I will do all I can to help you as you help our kingdom. But don’t forget to fight for yourself as well—there is no shame in that.”
Mather closed his eyes, dropping his head in a bow—of surrender? Of agreement? Of gratitude? Everything. His body swam with remorse, but through that, he felt the tightest flash of joy—the Thaw had weapons now. Real weapons, and Alysson’s support.
But he couldn’t get the image of Meira out of his head, her face when he had left her bedroom the night of the celebration. Her eyes wide and desperate, tears streaking in violent rivers down her cheeks. It had killed him to leave her—as it should have.
He never should have stepped out of that room. All the things he had wanted to do—run back to her, fight for her—were things heshouldhave done.
He understood that now, understood through Alysson’s silent strength.
Sweet snow, he had known Alysson his whole life, and never once had he seen her break. The most he could remember were a few stray tears flying down her cheeks when other members of their group died. But that was it, all the pain she ever showed, and Mather’s other memories were ofAlysson standing with her hand on William’s shoulder, or a silent, firm nod before someone went off on a mission. Quiet and steady, and Mather had never noticed, not once.
He’d been blind for far too long.
So when Mather opened his eyes, he intended to tell her. He intended to fall to his knees and beg forgiveness for being such an ungrateful son.
But the peaceful tone of the otherwise empty street was gone, replaced with a sensation he knew all too well: alertness. The Thaw held their new weapons with purpose, their bodies forming a U-shape toward an attacker across the street from their cottage. Everything blurred as Mather whipped toward the enemy, already reaching for the dagger he always kept in his boot.
Alysson saw his movement. He knew she did by the way her eyes followed him as he spun, arms out, dagger ready.
But she didn’t move, just wrinkled her brow, her mouth cracking open in a faint moan.
Mather couldn’t identify her expression. No, he refused to, pushed it from his mind even as it slammed persistently into his skull. He’d seen that look before—heknewthat look—
His eyes dropped to her chest, to the growing blotch of scarlet that stained her blue dress red. The tip of a sword gleamed against her body like a morbid bauble on a necklace.
The enemy hadn’t been across the street. The enemy had crept up on them, close enough that Mather should haveheard or seen or stopped them—
