A Matter of Inspiration

Winter Stars

Odette shivered, pulling her cloak tighter as she walked through the snow-clad gardens. The chandeliers from the ballroom cast dazzling golden light on the frozen fountains and topiaries, shadows darting across the smooth lawns as the dancers whirled inside.

"I thought I'd find you here."

She jumped nearly a foot, her heeled boots skidding on the ice as she turned just in time to watch a shadow detach itself from a clump of drooping willows. Her breath frosted out in a sigh of relief when the light from a nearby window fell on a familiar face.

"Roth," she murmured. "Aren't you supposed to be inside?"

His lips quirked, one dark brow raising as he picked his way toward her. "Aren't you?"

Fair enough. It was, after all, her engagement party.

Odette turned back to the stars glittering overhead. She tensed as the volshe came near, the air suddenly thick with the smell of blood. "You've been casting," she murmured.

He tipped his head back, shoulder-length hair fluttering. "Testing," he replied vaguely. "You should answer my question, lebed'ya."

Odette's skin prickled at the strange current beneath his words. After a moment to prepare herself, she turned to face him. Her breath caught anyway, and she was painfully reminded of why it was best to avoid nighttime walks with the caster.

His dark hair was half up, neatly brushed and dramatically laced with silver beads and chains. His fair skin was milk-white, the crescent scars on his cheeks standing in sharp relief. But it was his eyes that were the most dangerous—gracefully curved and the palest blue.

She told herself she'd forgotten how his eyes turned silver in the starlight.

"It's...I wanted to see the snow," she finally answered. It was partly true. Already she was feeling homesick and she hadn't even left.

Roth gave her a sideways glance, then turned, the chains in his hair jingling. Light flashed on his rings as he lifted his hands to place them on her shoulders, turning her to face him head on. She met his eyes. The volshe gave her a small smile, sharp canines flashing.

"Tell me the truth, Odette." There it was again, that odd undercurrent in his voice.

He rarely used her name. She held very still for a moment. 

He began playing with the long diamond earring she was wearing on her left ear. Shivers that had nothing to do with the cold travelled down her spine. She opened her mouth, closed it, then sighed.

"You don't love him."

The words were like a dash of water in her face. Blunt, cruel, leaving her with an absolute inability to find a response.

Roth leaned closer. "You don't want to marry a man you know doesn't truly love you. Not like..." He cocked his head, measuring his next words. 

She put a hand on his chest. "Roth, stop."

"Why?" The question was plaintive. Curious. Like he truly didn't know.

Odette felt his heart beating beneath her palm, hard and fast. He was...trembling. She tilted her head back sharply, looking at him. His pupils were blown wide, darkness swallowing the light from above. The tips of his ears had blushed red, not just from the cold. He licked his lips, hand coming to hover over hers where it still rested on his chest.

"You dislike change, Roth. You always have." She let her hand drop. "I love him and he loves me."

"I love you."