Sun and Moon, Ice and Snow by Jessica Day George Page A

but she could get the gist of the stories. She read two of the pillars and the elaborate bands of carving over the golden door. There were a great many mentions of the beautiful princess, and her endless search for love, but the tales seemed to be more menacing than romantic. To the lass, it looked as though the princess was ordering every man she came upon to love her. It was time for supper when she turned around to see Erasmus and Rollo standing behind her, looking quizzical.
    “Hello,” she said, dropping her hands self-consciously. She had been running her fingers over one of the doorposts.
    “What are you doing?” Rollo cocked his head to one side. “You missed luncheon
and
tea.” There was no greater sin than missing a meal, in the wolf’s mind.
    “Well, then, you should have come to find me,” she told him.
    “The fireplace was too warm,” he said, and then stretched languidly. “And when Erasmus came to take away the uneaten tea tray, I thought I’d better follow him to the kitchen, and see if you were still down there. But you weren’t, so we came to look for you here.”
    “I was worried that you were still, er, shocked from this afternoon,” Erasmus said, blushing. “But then Rollo assured me that you would be fine, since he was fine, and convinced the salamanders to give him cake.” His blush faded and he smiled at this.
    “Yes, I’m sorry for the inconvenience,” the lass apologized. “For
all
the inconvenience I’ve caused.” Now that Rollo had mentioned the missed meals and the uneaten trays, her stomach growled loudly. “Pardon me!”
    “You must be starving,” the faun said with a laugh. “Dinner is ready, if you are.”
    “Yes, please!” She gestured for Erasmus to lead the way to the dining room. “I’m so thirsty I could lick the walls!”
    “The walls taste terrible,” Rollo told her. “I tried it on our first day here. The ice tastes like rancid meat.” He shuddered and then shook out his pelt with a look of distaste.
    “What?” The lass stopped in her tracks, putting out a hand to touch the nearest pillar. “It does?” She almost licked the pillar, then and there, to see if Rollo was right. Ice that didn’t melt and wasn’t cold obviously wasn’t regular ice, but why would it taste like rancid meat?
    “Please, my lady, dinner is getting cold,” Erasmus said,his face pale. “And you should not be licking the walls,” he told the wolf in a severe voice. “They are . . . you must realize this isn’t . . . the sort of ice you’re accustomed to.”
    “Oh, of course.” Smiling innocently, the lass resolved to lick the wall of her bedchamber as soon as she was alone.
    In the dining room the white bear was already waiting, sitting by the side of the lass’s chair. She greeted him politely, and took her seat. Erasmus served her a meal of the usual magnificence: clear soup seasoned with strange herbs, vegetables roasted with honey, fish coated in hazelnuts and drenched in cherry preserves. Afterward there was cake that had been soaked in cream and drizzled with caramel.
    “Please thank the salamanders,” she sighed when she was finished. She leaned back in her chair and laid her napkin aside. “They are fantastic cooks.”
    “I shall tell them, my lady. They will be thrilled.”
    By the fire, Rollo rolled over and let his tongue hang out of his mouth. He’d had a fine cut of meat and a bit of the cake, which the lass had dropped into his bowl. The bear had also had a piece of cake, but otherwise had made only idle conversation while the lass and Rollo ate. He’d asked her if she’d seen the paintings in the long gallery, and did she like them (not really, they were all quite gruesome battle scenes) and had she read any of the books in the library (yes, and they were delightful).
    “So you do like it here?” The bear’s voice was wistful.
    “Yes, of course!” She leaned sideways out of her chair and patted one of his huge paws. “And don’t worry,