Winter Flame: Happily Ever After, #5

By K. A. Last

Wish from the heart, and you will never be wrong.

 

Ember's Papa is too sick to work. They can't face another winter without enough food, so Ember sets out for Stormbridge Castle. Blessed with the ability to see visions in fire, she plans to sell her gift at the market to help put food on the table for Christmas.

 

But a snow storm hits, and Ember loses her way.

 

Prince Rhys finds Ember buried in the snow. He won't leave her, so he escorts her to the castle and insists she stay until she recovers. Ember thinks she doesn't belong, but Rhys's feelings for her grow. He attempts to shield her from his mother's test, hoping their relationship will develop on its own.

 

But the Queen has other ideas.

 

She wants someone worthy to marry her son, and Ember's trial began the moment she set foot in Stormbridge Castle. Rhys is torn between obeying his mother and telling Ember the truth.

 

Will Ember pass the Queen's test, or will one wish ruin everything?

 

Find out in this sweet reimagining of the classic tales, The Little Match Girl, and The Princess and the Pea.

• Language: English
• Publisher: K. A. Last
• Release date: Sep 21, 2020
• ISBN: 9798201499242

K. A. Last

K. A. Last was born in Subiaco, Western Australia, and moved to Sydney with her parents and older brother when she was eight. Artistic and creative by nature, she studied Graphic Design and graduated with an Advanced Diploma. After marrying her high school sweetheart, she concentrated on her career before settling into family life. Blessed with a vivid imagination, she began writing to let off creative steam, and fell in love with it. She now resides in a peaceful leafy suburb north of Sydney with her husband, their two children, and a rabbit named Twitch.

Book preview

Winter Flame:

The Little Match Girl

and The Princess and the Pea Reimagined

A Happily Ever After Book 5

K. A. Last

www.kalastbooks.com.au

Copyright © 2020 K. A. Last

All rights reserved.

Contents

––––––––

1 – Ember

2 – Rhys

3 – Ember

4 – Rhys

5 – Ember

6 – Rhys

7 – Ember

8 – Rhys

9 – Ember

10 – Rhys

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Copyright

1 – Ember

A LIGHT DUSTING OF snow adds to the thick blanket already covering the ground of Frostenfell. The cold weather has set in, and food is scarce, the ground too frozen to grow anything. Papa stares at me, his eyes watery, and his face drawn. I can’t remember the last time we ate a good meal. Our flour stocks ran out weeks ago, and we’ve been living off whatever Mrs Woodrow in the cottage next door has to spare.

A potato here, and a piece of dried bread there, isn’t enough.

I have to go, Papa, I say. We need money to buy food.

It’s too dangerous ... He stops, heaving breaths as the rattling cough overtakes him.

I grab his arm and lead him back to his chair by the fire. I’ll be fine. No one will know. They’ll just think I’m making it up.

Papa eases down into the chair. You shouldn’t use your gift in this way. I want to keep you safe. If people know about your visions, they can hurt you.

No one is going to hurt me, Papa. I slip a cushion behind him, pull the threadbare blanket over his knees, then tuck it around him. The fire crackles and pops. I check there’s enough wood beside the hearth to keep the blaze going for the day. Mrs Woodrow will be in to check on you later. She’ll bring more wood if you need it.

I wish you wouldn’t go, Ember. Papa grabs my hand. I fear I don’t have long.

Nonsense. I crouch in front of him, pressing my lips to his hand. I’ll only be gone long enough to work the Christmas market. Three days at the most. We can share a Christmas feast when I return.

Papa gives my hand a weak squeeze. I’ll be here, waiting. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his money pouch, thrusting it into my hands. Two coppers left, he says between coughs. Use it to get a room for tonight.

You might need it. I push it towards him. I’ll be fine. I can ask the inn keeper for a night in lieu.

I stand and give Papa a kiss on the cheek, then collect his match making tray and set it on his knees. He picks up the rough sticks with gnarled fingers and gets to work. He’s been making matches all his life, but the coppers he collects on his rounds to the neighbouring villages barely pays our taxes for the year. And now he’s too sick to work, the coughing fits making him weak.

My visions should be able to get at least one silver each at the castle market. Which means a handful of matches combined with my gift will make us plenty to keep the roof over our head and buy us food.

I continue to ready my supplies for the day-long walk to Stormbridge Castle, packing my small satchel with my water skin, a special wooden case Papa made to store matches in that has a piece of sandpaper fixed inside, and my golden box. The box was my mother’s. She died one winter when I was six, but not before she taught me how to capture my visions and put them inside the small chest. It protects what I want to remember the most. I check my wrist for the key where it’s fastened with a piece of twine.

The wind howls through the trees outside, and I pull on my gloves and cloak, hoping the tattered material will be enough to protect me against the chill.

I must go, Papa, or I won’t make Stormbridge before nightfall. If you need anything, holler for Mrs Woodrow, I say from the doorway. He raises a hand. The fire dances shadows across the side of his face. I love you, Papa, I whisper as I close the door and step into the wintry morning.

An icy blast buffets me as I move along the wide street. The sky is clear, but the wind makes me nervous. Storms often blow in suddenly, and I hope the weather holds until I reach the castle. I pull my cloak tighter around my shoulders and hug myself, setting off along the road that leads to Stormbridge.

No one is in the street. It’s too early, and cold,