Thaw

Fri, 27 Mar 2026 00:00:00 +0000

The Year of the Orchard had arrived early, exactly as Juvielle had promised the people of Little Stoneleaf, and the Time of the Tapping had been upon Froatburn Dell when Juvielle departed, reassuring her people she would return before the Time of the Sowing. The trip to the high ridge had taken her nearly three weeks when she last came this way, but she hadn’t known the way, and it was deep winter then. She should have reached the hall of Queen Nechta—Talvra—in less than two.

Juvielle, Greenwhisper of Little Stoneleaf, planned to mark Balance Day with Talvra. The day when the sun first remained in the sky longer than it slept was sacred to her kind—those who spoke the words of earth and water and plant—and she needed to share that day with the Ice Queen. But the path from the ridge to Talvra’s forest faded, failed, and Juvielle had more than once needed to backtrack, moving purely by memory.

Despair had gnawed at Juvielle when, finally, she found Talvra’s palace. She choked back a sob of relief, it wasn’t too late, Balance Day was on the morrow. She would still be able to celebrate it with her love, the Lady of Winter. What did it matter if the clearing seemed smaller, the walls of blue ice less luminous? Juvielle had returned. Smiling as she had not since leaving Talvra’s side—three full moons ago—Juvielle snugged her ceinture fléchée around her waist and tucked it under itself, both ends lying loose against her thigh.

“My queen?” That wasn’t Talvra’s title, but Juvielle felt she needed some words of respect. When there was no response, Juvielle approached the doors. As before, they opened silently at her approach, almost beckoning her inside.

“Queen Nechta?” The hall seemed shorter, the door to Talvra’s bedchamber closer than when Juvielle was here last, and icy prickles of fear touched her heart once more. “Talvra?” she called, hating the quaver in her voice, echoing back to her from the vaulted ceiling.

“My Greenwhisper,” came the soft reply from beyond the doors at the end of the hall. “Still I await you.” Juvielle’s relief hit with such intensity she stumbled, before breaking into a run.

The bedchamber was much as Juvielle remembered. Vast and empty, walls and ceiling lost in shadow, columns of mirrors guiding one toward the most luxurious bed Juvielle had ever seen, piled with warm furs and soft cushions. Seated in the middle of the bed, the willowy woman Juvielle had come to see.

Talvra was just as Juvielle remembered. Long limbs, delicate fingers, slim but shapely, skin the colour of fresh cream, platinum hair cascading around her shoulders, and flinty, colourless eyes that, on another, could appear cruel, but in Talvra were curiously protective.

She was naked still, and the sight filled her with the sister feelings of love and desire. She was halfway across the room—catching visions of herself in the mirrors—in a heartbeat. The mirrors showed her fantasies, her desires, her needs—Juvielle on her knees before Talvra, offering herself; Juvielle standing over Talvra, holding the queen’s head between her legs; Juvielle wearing something she had no name for but giving her the form of a man—but she had no time for those.

Talvra was wrong. Smaller, thinner, Juvielle couldn’t tell quite how, but Talvra was less vibrant.

“Talvra!” Juvielle’s concern rapidly spiralling into fear. “What’s wrong? What’s happened?”

The Ice Queen held up both hands in greeting, and Juvielle went to her. Cold fingers found her cheeks. She didn’t smile—Juvielle didn’t think Talvra knew how to smile—but she exuded pleased contentment. “The end is here,” she said simply.

Juvielle gasped, “The end? What? No! No, Talvra, please!”

Talvra shifted on the bed, cold hands still holding Juvielle’s warm cheeks, but the queen was rising to her knees now, offering her lips. “Night ends, the star remains,” she offered, then her mouth met Juvielle’s. She slid her tongue between Juvielle’s lips, then began to explore her mouth once more. Juvielle moaned in response, her hands first brushing over Talvra’s shoulders, then to her breasts. When she had been here last, she had fallen asleep many nights with her face between those generous, pale mounds. Most of all, she had loved Talvra’s response when her tongue circled those nipples, those raspberry-bumped areolae.

“But Talvra—” Juvielle whispered, breaking the kiss for a beat even as her hands continued exploring Talvra’s breasts, then began moving further down.

The Ice Queen studied Juvielle, her expression inscrutable. “I would ask this. Before the dawn.” She locked eyes with Juvielle and began to remove her ceinture fléchée, allowing Juvielle’s tunic to fall open, exposing her rather modest chest. “Dawn,” Talvra repeated, unhelpfully.

Juvielle struggled out of her clothing, then pushed Talvra back onto the bed, her small, hard nipples rubbing against Talvra’s in a way that made her toes curl. She lay atop the queen, her hips pressing against Talvra’s, her dense, untended pubic curls scratching deliciously over Talvra’s hairless mound. She kissed and suckled and touched every part of Talvra she could, desperate to hold this moment in her memory forever. The way the Ice Queen sighed and arched her back, the way Talvra’s raspberry-areolae felt against her tongue, the way Juvielle’s coarse, scratchy mound felt against Talvra’s unblemished skin, even the way it felt when their hip-bones bumped.

She moved down. Kissing and licking and nipping at Talvra’s chin, then her neck, then her chest and finally her mound. She guided Talvra’s legs over her shoulders, then squeezed those porcelain thighs snugly against her head. “I love you,” she whispered, desperate to say it but hoping she’d been too quiet for Talvra to hear. Then her nose was against Talvra’s clit, her lips pressed firmly against Talvra’s labia and her tongue deep inside.

She licked, she sucked, she drew deep of Talvra’s juices. The subtle twitch and shudder of Talvra’s thighs against her head guided her. More there, less here, just like that. When Juvielle felt Talvra’s hands on the back of her head, she understood it was encouragement, not direction.

Juvielle continued.

Juvielle lost herself.

She licked and sucked and nibbled at Talvra’s clit, then slid a finger inside her cunt and drove it deep—wild, desperate, relentless. The bedchamber echoed with the wet, tender, loving sounds of their sex, and when Talvra finally climaxed, her thighs gripped Juvielle’s head so tightly the Greenwhisper’s vision dimmed.

I also love you. Juvielle heard without words.

Balance Day passed. Neither Juvielle nor Talvra—Queen Nechta, the Lady of Winter, so many other names—left the bedchamber. As the sun reluctantly settled below the horizon, Talvra caressed Juvielle’s cheek a final time. “Dawn,” she whispered. She seemed so weak now—Juvielle fairly wept.

“I await you.” Talvra’s eyes closed.

“The star remains,” she murmured, a hopeful smile tugging at her lips as a light snow began to fall outside.

Knotty

Fading_power on Knotty Biscotti

Thaw