The War for the North[16]
In the secret hot spring of Frosthelm Castle, time seemed to stand still. Under the stars, the contrasting harmony created by the steam of the hot water and the falling snow was soothing Cassian's soul.
Until that moment.
With the splashing of water and the parting of the steam, Cryomara entered the water as if nothing had happened, as if this hot spring had belonged to her for a thousand years (which it probably had). A slight hissing sound was heard when her naked, smooth, and lethally flawless body met the heat of the water.
She stopped at a distance dangerously close to Cassian. The water level rose to her shoulders, her silvery hair spreading over the surface of the water, creating a shimmering halo.
Cassian slumped his shoulders. He threw his head back and let out a deep, weary sigh. That peaceful, silent moment that belonged only to him had popped and vanished like a soap bubble.
Without opening his eyes, he asked in a tired voice:
