The Spring Summoner and the Winter Duke

A Meeting Beyond Worlds

Adelaide’s breath formed a pale mist in the air as the cold presence closed in, coiling around them like the first touch of a winter storm. She could feel it now—more than just the biting wind. This presence had weight, as if the very frost around them was aware, watching.

“Either the cold has penetrated this coat,” she murmured, her voice calm but meant for her knight's ears, “or someone with ill intent is following us.”

Dame Lorrain’s hand flexed at the hilt of her sword, but before they could respond, the cold thickened—sharpening into something almost tangible. It was as though the air itself whispered in confirmation.

Yes, I’m here.

Adelaide’s maids grew unnaturally still, their faces paling. Even the seasoned northern maid, Amelie, seemed unsettled, her usual poise stiffened as though the cold had seeped into her very bones. Elaine’s breath quickened, a fine layer of frost forming at her collar. The icy silence weighed on them, and Adelaide could feel her knight's tension beside her.

Without a second thought, she reached out and grabbed Dame Lorrain’s hand, her slender fingers wrapping firmly around her wrist. The knight’s eyes widened, both from the unexpected contact and the surprising strength in Adelaide’s grip. She blinked down at her in shock, caught between their urge to protect her and the confusion of how such a petite figure had managed to keep her hand from drawing their blade.

"My lady—" Lorrain began, but Adelaide cut them off, her attention fixed forward.

“Who…” she started, her voice clear as ice. She narrowed her gaze toward the presence that hovered just beyond sight. “Rather, what are you?”

A sound followed, like snowflakes falling—soft and brittle, but eerily mocking. The presence laughed, the voice cold, each word dripping like icy droplets. It wasn’t human. The air tightened further, and both maids gasped, their throats constricted as if the winter itself were breathing down their necks, stealing their breath.

Adelaide, however, remained unfazed, her breath frosting before her lips but never wavering. She might not have possessed her brother Kaelen’s searing fire or Thorne’s mastery of the freezing cold, but as a spring summoner, she knew well how to strike a balance between the elements. Spring was the bridge between winter’s bite and summer’s blaze, and she was more than capable of driving out the cold.

With a small, determined smile, she raised her left hand, her fingers curling into a fist. A pulse of warmth surged outward, dispelling the suffocating frost in an instant. The cold was pushed back, retreating like a predator denied its kill.

The maids exhaled in relief, visibly relaxing as the unnatural cold receded. Sir Lorrian straightened, though their hand remained near their sword, still alert.

Adelaide’s green eyes flickered with an eerie glow, her gaze sharp and commanding. “Final chance,” she said, her voice carrying a gentle but dangerous edge. “What are you?”

The world slowed.

The faint hum of the market, the whisper of the cold wind, even the subtle rustling of her maids’ clothes—all of it ceased. The entire scene was suspended in a frozen frame, everything blanketed under a soft blue tint. Adelaide’s breath stilled in her chest, but she remained calm. She recognized this sensation.

She turned her head back to the presence, her smile never wavering. And there, before her, a large, regal black wolf sat in the snow, its fur as dark as night. Its eyes gleamed with a pale, frosted blue, intelligent and ancient. The air around it shimmered with frost as if the creature itself was made of ice and snow. The beast's presence was imposing yet still, like a mountain that had watched over the land for centuries.

Adelaide’s eyes widened slightly. She crossed her arms over her chest, her magic still dancing faintly in the air around her. “Aren’t you the guardian spirits of the Frost Duchy?” she asked, her tone light, as though she were addressing an old acquaintance.

The black wolf remained silent, but there was a flicker of amusement in its icy blue eyes. It made no effort to deny or confirm her statement, simply watching her with that regal, ancient gaze.

Adelaide tilted her head, still smiling, but a little exasperation crept into her voice. “You’re certainly making quite the entrance.”

The wolf’s mouth twitched—almost like a grin. it stood, it's towering form walking arounf her. The regal air never left its movements, each step deliberate and smooth, as though the very ground bent to its will. As it neared her, it stopped, dipping its head slightly in what seemed like a respectful gesture.

Then, in a voice that echoed in her mind more than her ears, the wolf finally spoke.

The Frost Duchy welcomes its new guardian.

Adelaide blinked, her breath catching in her throat. Come again? She was sure she had misheard, or perhaps misunderstood. The guardian deity of Aurenfell, the Frost Duchy itself, wouldn’t possibly want to patron someone like her—would they?

Its gaze remained steady as it responded, this time its voice threading through her mind with a calm certainty. Indeed, I do not wish to contract you. But I do have a request.

A request? From the Frost Guardian? Adelaide’s curiosity piqued, but she couldn’t deny the weight of the moment pressing down on her. “A request for me?” she echoed, unsure of what a spirit of this magnitude would need from her.

Yes. The wolf sat down again, its tail curling around its paws as it spoke. The current head of the Belfort family—he is a fine heir, worthy of my blessing. Yet, he has yet to speak with me. He has my protection and my favour, but an event from his childhood has rendered him unable to hear my voice. I seek your help to change that.

Adelaide blinked again, this time a bit slower. The weight of the spirit's words sank in, and for a moment, she stood in thoughtful silence.

Oh… Well, this is deep.

Taking a slow breath as she processed. Of all things, she hadn’t expected to be asked for help by the very deity of the land she had just stepped foot in. She couldn’t help the question that followed.

“Why me?”

The black wolf didn’t immediately respond, simply staring at her, its icy gaze holding the kind of timeless patience that only ancient spirits possess. After a moment, it inclined its head slightly, as though to acknowledge her rightful curiosity.

You, of all mortals, must know that spirits gravitate toward those most favourable to them, it answered, its voice still a gentle, cold breeze in her mind. But the human has to be willing. Some humans have a more desirable constitution than others. And you, blessed child of this generation, are among those favoured.

Adelaide chuckled softly, a note of dry amusement threading through her voice. It wasn’t that she didn’t know. Adelaide often heard other spirits call her “blessed child”.

Very pure, the wolf mused, the kind that spirits love. Even now, the wolf could see it clearly—her soul, glowing with a colourful inner light so brilliant it was almost tangible.

Adelaide offered a playful shrug, but her gaze soon turned thoughtful. "Can’t say I’m surprised," she mused aloud, then went quiet for a moment. Her green eyes narrowed slightly as she regarded the black wolf. "But tell me—are you asking for my help as the Spring Summoner… or as Duke Belfort’s wife-to-be?"

The wolf’s ears perked up at her question, its ethereal amusement palpable. Astute, it acknowledged, the faint flicker of sorrow passing through its icy gaze. After a beat, it added, An incident when he was young—a loss that scarred him deeply. It wasn’t enough to sever the bond of my blessing, but it quieted his soul and made him deaf to the voices of the spirits. A pause lingered in the air before it finished, But I ask you as his wife.

A deep understanding settled within Adelaide as the spirit’s words took root. She had always known that the greatest scars often ran deep beneath the surface, invisible yet all-consuming. Her brow furrowed as she idly brushed her thumb across her lower lip, lost in thought.

“And you think I can fix this?” she asked after a moment, her tone serious, the teasing edge gone.

You are the only one who can reach him, the wolf affirmed, rising once more to its full height. Its imposing form seemed to fill the air around her, but there was no threat in its stance—only a sense of age-old wisdom and the weight of its charge.

Adelaide’s mouth twitched into a small smile. “I’ll try.”

The wolf lowered its head slightly, its icy gaze softening. That’s all I ask.

Without another word, the great black wolf turned and began walking back toward the thick of the forest. As it moved, its form seemed to dissolve into the shadows of the trees, until the world around Adelaide shifted once more. In the blink of an eye, time resumed its natural flow.

The cold air rushed back in, the once-still marketplace came alive with its hum of activity, and the strange blue tint faded from her vision. The frost that had once clung to her breath now dispersed into the air, leaving a faint warmth in its wake.

"My lady, what happened?" Lorrain asked first, his voice full of concern as he relaxed his stance, though his eyes still darted around, searching for any threat.

Adelaide glanced at her knight, her lips curving into a reassuring smile. "Don’t fret, Dame Lorrain. It’s nothing to worry about," she said with a calm ease. Then, casting a glance toward the darkening sky, she added, "But it is getting late. Let’s head back before the night fully settles in."

Her maids exchanged puzzled glances but nodded in agreement. As they began their walk back to the carriage, Adelaide's thoughts lingered on the wolf's request, the weight of it pressing subtly at the back of her mind. The head of the Belfort family… a man who had once heard the spirits but now lived in silence. And her, his wife-to-be, tasked with a seemingly impossible mission.

The corner of her lips tugged into a small, determined smile as she allowed herself a moment of contemplation. She had agreed to this marriage for many reasons, but it seemed her role in the north was becoming more complicated—and perhaps, far more important—than she initially thought.