Page 50 of Cold and Bitter Snow

“Siena,” Conor whispered. He rushed to the door as fast as his side would allow him and opened it—to find a dark-haired young man on the other side.

Conor struggled to hide his disappointment.

“Hello,” the man said. “Conor Hudson?”

“Yeah, that’s me.”

“I have a message for you from King Nayef.”

Hopefully not more flowers.

Conor looked at the hallway behind the newcomer. It was thankfully empty.

“Would you like to come in?” Conor asked.

“Ah, no, thank you. I just need to give you this letter and watch you read it.”

“Watch me read it, huh. Okay,” Conor said. He took the letter, struggling to open it with only one hand. Behind him, Luc looked on curiously.

It was a thank you letter for saving his daughter Alma’s life and offering him anything he wanted in return.

“Is the princess okay?” Conor asked.

“Yes. She is back home and recovering. My great-uncle will make sure nothing happens to her.” The ghost of a smile played on the man’s lips. “So, what would you like?”

Conor thought about that for a moment. There was only one thing he wanted and neither King Nayef nor anyone else could give it to him.

“Please say thank you to the king. I am glad his daughter is safe but I don’t need anything in return.”

The man nodded. “My great-uncle thought you might say that. Keep the letter. Should you ever need anything, call that number. The king will make it happen.”

Conor and Luc watched the man disappear down the hallway and open the door to the outside. Snow drifted in from the street.

“I’m going to get ready for my shift,” Luc said, wheeling himself into his room. “Some of us still have to work, you know.”

Luc had only set two requirements when they’d begun looking for a flat: ground-floor apartment and two bathrooms. Luc had taken the ensuite. He spent a while there every evening, before their shift started, doing whatever it was he had to do to get ready. He’d never asked Conor for help, so Conor had never offered.

When he came out he was dressed in his uniform. Conor looked at his watch. It was almost eleven p.m.

“For the record, I think you’re being stupid, man,” Luc said.

“You think I should have asked the king for a new pair of skis?” Conor joked.

Luc’s frown intensified. “Do you know what some of us would give to have the chance you have right now? Do something about it, Conor, if you’re not too much of a coward.”

With a sigh, his friend wheeled himself out of the apartment. Conor was left alone again. Luc’s words rang in his ears. Nobody had ever accused him of being a coward before.

You’ve never behaved like this before.

He went back to his room and took off his extra-large T-shirt, staring at the matching scars on his front and back. He wanted a shower but couldn’t get the wounds wet yet so he cleaned himself up as best he could with a damp towel.

Getting dressed again was a bitch. He was sweating by the time he strapped the shoulder brace on.

You can’t go see her now—it’s almost midnight.

Ignoring the voice, he put his right arm into the coat but left the other sleeve hanging loose.

His boots felt loose—he hadn’t been able to draw the laces tight enough with only one arm. He walked slowly down the street, glad for the falling snow which provided some grip. Last thing he wanted was to fall on his ass.