Work Seasons

Lady Winter awaited company during her final day on the job. She walked upon the last snowfall of her work season. She’d had a light load. Not enough to really do as she wished. One season of labor and three to rest was just the way it was and had always been. But as the season ended she did not yet feel tired. Her workload had been a light one.

Tiny traces of Lord Spring’s upcoming arrival showed through the white blanket she’d laid upon the ground. Tiny weeds of green poked through the melting snow.

With nothing to do but wait, she sat at the edge of her realm on the other side of the frozen pond separating her territory from Lord Spring’s. Life continued below the surface. Just beyond the water, grass lay trapped underneath the evidence of cold with dirt beneath that. She’d never much cared for growing things for they were short lived.

A moment later, Lord Spring sat beside her. He said nothing at first. In recent years, it became increasingly common for him to arrive early. Lady Winter never complained about her shorter shifts. She often wondered if Queen Summer and King Fall felt the same.

“You’re early again,” she said. The wind picked up at her voice, increasing the chill despite the risen sun.

“Merely a precaution.”

“Against what?”

“Tardiness.”

She frowned, her lips the deep blue of frostbite. “Why don’t I believe you?”

“You’re allowed to believe what you will.”

“Is that so?”

His smile showed the warmth of the middle of the day.

“Why don’t you admit you just wanted to see me?” she asked.

Lord Spring gazed at her for a moment.

She let him only because she strongly suspected her as lovely despite their differences.

“You wanted to see me and now you have,” she said and rose. The long train of her gown concealed her legs as well as her shoes. Sleep beckoned her. It was just the natural way of things. Even the king and queen only had a few nights together before the inevitable changing of the seasons. And they’d been in this very same position before. The results always ended up the same. They spoke for as long as they were able and then they parted ways.

He reached for her hand.

She left it at her side for him to take it.

“Can we talk for longer?”

She turned to face him again. His eyes were as green as the hidden foliage. She thought them striking against his brown skin.

“It won’t change anything.”

“No?” he said.

She was unsure if he had asked a question or made a statement.

He released her hand. It looked so much paler than his despite the amber color of her skin.

She watched as he stood.

“I’m tired of pretending,” he spoke again.

She inclined her head. “Pretending?”

“To not care about you.”

A long silence descended upon them.

The chilled breeze in the air settled once again.

She took a step back. Snow remained in her wake.

He stayed where he was.

Greenery flourished behind him.

Her sleet and slush receded as it always did this time of year.

“What about all the others then? Did you care about them, too?”

The prosperous plant life stopped.

No new snow fell. What remained was well on its way to melting.

“There were no feelings involved,” he said. “I sought only what they offered.”

The thought of Lord Spring and his seemingly infinite number of consorts only served to anger her further. A stark reminder of just how much she fought to allow herself not to care about him. He didn’t owe her an explanation. Not really. They weren’t involved. The two of them only spoke for sixty minutes the same time every year. As she was now leaving early, she owed him thirty more next year and nothing else.

“I see. Well, I’ll offer you nothing,” she said, turning on her heels.

The train of her pale cobalt gown rippled as she walked. Finely woven silk caressed the ice of the pond as she crossed it.

“Meet me when the king and queen reunite,” he called after her.

She stopped where she stood. Stayed as he got up to approach her.

The ice held him at her insistence. His very presence caused it to melt. The layers were no longer as thick as they had been when the water had first frozen over.

“Why?” she asked.

“So I can see you for longer than an hour.”

“I’ll give you the time you ask for next year.”

“And if I were to ask for more?”

“More?” she echoed. “Do you know what it is you’re asking?”

“Give me the chance to find out,” he said.

“If you insist.”

When he lifted his arms, she stepped into them.

His hug was warm. The feeling it gave her was strange. New and interesting. She liked it.

Nothing except fire ever seared in winter until now.

The ice beneath them began to crack as her shift finished winding down.

“I’ll miss you,” he said.

She smiled and hugged him back. He was better with words and sentiment than she.

They both knew what time it was.

She had to go and he had work to do.

He let her go with reluctance.

She watched as he retreated and the pond separated them once again.

The last of the ice reverted to water as her feet touched the newly uncovered grass on the other side.