The Ruin of Snow

by Lacy Sheridan

  “Are Aurynn and I not girls?” Enaelle asked with mock offense.

  “You two don’t count.”

  Aurynn copied Rayick’s eye roll but directed her question to me. “How old are you, if you don’t mind my asking?”

  I stopped myself from straightening my shoulders and lifting my chin. I wasn’t Neyva Morningspell here, provoked by her cool tone. I was somebody else—I wasn’t sure who, but I needed to pretend I did. If I was going to be the person who gained their trust and help, I couldn’t be a noble. “I’m eighteen.”

  “See, too young,” Rayick interjected.

  Aurynn’s eyes flicked to my bare fingers. “No fiancé waiting in the noble squares? Or did you sell the ring to help yourself disappear?”

  “What if I did?” I knew I needed to bury the defensive edge in my voice, but it was there, nonetheless.

  Desmond’s easy smile as we danced.

  Standing shirtless, staring between Mother and I. Chasing me to the garden.

  His hands around my arms, locking me there.

  His blood, hot and red, spilling across my hands, my dress, the ground.

  I wanted to shut my eyes and block the memories, to bury them far and deep, where they would never be seen again. To forget. Wanted to scream until I couldn’t hear his voice. But I didn’t. I couldn’t, not here. Not now. I schooled my expression into something cool and indifferent, something stony and unbreakable. I met Aurynn’s eyes as she flicked one brow up and said, “Then I’d say good riddance, because clearly he was not worth staying with, if you left.”

  “Aurynn,” Rayick warned, and I knew what they were thinking; I was young, noble, and alone. They didn’t know the situation, but they knew it must have been bad. Perhaps my fiancé had been some terrible man I’d run from. Or perhaps I’d left the shimmering world out of pure necessity, even if it meant leaving behind things I loved. They didn’t know, and they shifted and quieted because of it.

  One corner of my lips lifted with the tiny, tentative thread of amusement that sparked to life. “He wasn’t my fiancé,” I said. “But he wasn’t worth staying with, no.”

  She murmured, “Good,” and returned to her stew.

  There was a collective release of breath that we weren’t going to come to blows, and, after another quiet moment, the conversation began again. I sat back and listened, watched, as they chatted and teased, as comfortable as if they had lived together all their lives, as if there were no secrets or boundaries or insecurities amid them. Compared to the silent, grave suppers with my mother and sisters it was shocking.

  Was this what family was supposed to be like? Not the prim and poised image mine lived by, but something comfortable and real? Warm?

  I wondered if my questions were written across my face when Kye cast another glance to me, firelight making his golden eyes amber, but he said nothing, and I couldn’t read his expression. For once, I wasn’t aware of somebody’s thoughts and reactions, and we stared at each other across the fire, frozen.

  Then he blinked and looked away, as if it had never happened.

  But, though I refused to let it, something tugged at me to look at him one more time through the rest of the meal.

  When the others retired, wandering off to various points in the tunnels to spend their evening however they did, Idris, Kye, and I were left with the dying fire and the lengthening shadows. Idris stood, one shoulder on the wall, and waited until he was sure nobody was near to speak. Kye kept his head bent over his book, but from his posture he was listening as much as I was.

  “You said the storm was magic,” Idris stated. I nodded. “What kind?”

  I didn’t have an answer for that, not truly, but I couldn’t admit it. I replied, “A magic to manipulate the snow and ice, the wind.”

  “You can do that?”

  “Yes.” Not a lie, technically.

  “What else can you do?”

  What to say to that? How much to reveal? I leaned forward, watching him, and was cognizant of Kye listening to every word, though he was picture of distraction. “Cast and break curses, of course. Seek things. Cast protections. Glamour. The usual.”

  Idris quirked one eyebrow and smiled. “That’s the usual?”

  It was hard not to repay that smile. “For a witch, of course.”

  “Of course,” he echoed, and turned to Kye. “Would you be up for an…expedition tomorrow?”

  Kye’s eyes didn’t move. “Expedition?”

  Idris spoke to me when he answered. “If we’re going to stop whoever is after you, we’re going to need to know what we’re working against. Kye will need to know,” he amended.

  Kye looked at me. “Whoever they are I can handle them, I’m sure. But any details you can give, or I can find will help. Idris says you killed one already.”

  “She was trying to kill me,” I whispered, slipping into the damsel in distress mask.

  “We’re not blaming you,” Idris said. “But seeing the body, because I assume it’s out there somewhere, could be useful. If you think you can find the spot again.”

  “I can.” I straightened, eyeing Kye. Studied him again—the lithe muscle, the scars, the tattoos. He was so quiet, so withdrawn, that it tricked the mind into thinking he wasn’t much. But I thought that was intentional. Clever boy. I let something necessary slip by adding, “But you should know they’re witches.”

  He didn’t blink. “So were half a dozen women I helped fight when I was eleven.”

  Idris grinned and clapped him on the shoulder. “Rest up, then, kids.”

  Aurynn and Tamsin came to see us off not long after dawn, on a different hunting mission of their own. A wolf and a cat teaming up to catch the group some game—I would have loved to see it in action, whether they succeeded or not, but I was no hunter. Not the kind they needed. From the way Tamsin and Rayick had grappled with the starving wolves, that they had found ways to blend the advantages of their animal forms seamlessly.

  Kye waited near the entrance to the tunnels, angled to keep himself in shadow, and Aurynn tied her choppy hair at the nape of her neck. “We’re going south,” he told them with a quick cast of confirmation to me. I nodded.

  Tamsin pulled up the hood of his ever-present cloak as if to conceal himself, wary eyes on me. “We’ll keep away from you two, so nothing runs in your direction if we can help it.” Prey spooked by a human might well be prey lost to them.

  “Good luck,” I mumbled as Aurynn passed, Tamsin trailing behind her.

  Her barbaric grin had me wondering where she was from. “It’s not about luck, Neyva.” Then she stepped into the sun, and within a second a wolf stood in her place. Lean and strong, thick coat a mottled gray-brown that ruffled contrary to the falling snow. She gauged my reaction, but I didn’t step back. Beside her, Tamsin slipped into the wildcat I’d barely been able to see during the attack and without pause darted away, a brown-and-black ghost that vanished among the trees. Aurynn followed at a trot with a quick nod of farewell.

  Kye rolled his neck, eyes gleaming with something lighter than I’d seen so far. “Are you ready?”

  I deemed not to answer and folded my arms, looking him up and down. “What are you, then?”

  He jerked his head toward the entrance with an expression that might have meant one of a dozen things before he stepped into the sun. I’d seen the way Idris had gone from fox to human, and the near-instantaneous changes from Aurynn and Tamsin, as fluid as water and quick as lightning; Kye’s shifting was no different. Gold flashed across his skin like fire catching, sudden and bright enough to make me blink, and by the time my vision had settled the human was nowhere to be found.

  Neither was any animal, the first time I looked around. Then the winter sun caught on a bird settling onto a low-hanging branch, eyes hooked on me: a brighter gold than the sunset-amber feathers, but so close to Kye’s natural color that I couldn’t divert mine. He shifted, talons curling into the frosted branch, but matched my study second for second.

  He w
as no ordinary forest bird—no little sparrow or thrush. He was an eagle, glowing like a sun in the morning light. Solid muscle and predator grace. Danger: those wicked talons and curved beak spoke of a vicious ability to kill, as much as Rayick’s hulking bear. He lowered his head as I stepped closer. The branch he’d chosen to perch on put us eye-to-eye.

  “You do like to put the others to shame in the most unexpected ways, don’t you?” I asked .

  His response was a false snap at my raised fingers. I stopped short of touching him, though he showed no signs of preventing me. He stood stone-still and calm, like he was inviting me. Yet I paused, hand in the air, and asked, “Can you fly?”

  He leveled a slant that, had he been able to speak, I was sure would have been paired with a comment about my intelligence.

  One corner of my mouth tipped up. “Show me.”

  His powerful wings spread, prompting me to take a single step back to give him room, and he took off into the air. I watched him change into a dark silhouette in the pale sky, a silhouette that circled once, and then he lowered and let out an echoing cry. Beckoning me to get going. I did, starting in the direction Rayick, Tamsin, and I had travelled.

  A light snow fell, tiny wisps of flakes that drifted idly and lazily to the ground and melted on my hands. My full pack was a comfortable weight at my shoulder, promising enough food to get us there and return, and I fingered the little knife at my belt which Idris had tossed to me as we’d prepared to leave that morning. It was old, the blade nicked in places—far from the sleek and elegant weapon I wished I had—but it was better than nothing. Its presence was another small reassurance.

  As was Kye’s shadow flickering across the snow and trees, as much as it was a threat.

  After all, it wouldn’t take much for those talons and beak to tear into me if he chose to attack. He had the advantages of speed, strength, and training, even if I had the advantage of size. Yet the glittering near-laughter in his eyes before he’d shifted stuck in my mind more than the danger.

  Still, I kept a hand near the knife. I’d been fooled by kind smiles earlier.

  We went on in silence for hours, Kye slowing to keep a comfortable pace with me, sometimes soaring higher to circle the area, sometimes perching to let me catch up after a quick burst of flight. He was a swift flier; at times he was out of my sight before I knew which direction he’d gone, and I’d have to call his name so he doubled back to ensure we weren’t separated.

  I followed the occasional marks carved into the trees, shallow and ragged from my fingernails, and the fading taste of magic in the air..

  We passed the frozen, devoured remains of my dead stallion when the sun was high above us, and Kye cast me a questioning eye.

  “He was a good horse,” I said.

  When we were both tired and starved, he settled onto an uneven rock, scraping snow from the top with one foot, while I brushed off a flatter stone and dug through the pack. I pulled out our wrapped lunch—more dried meat and an apple on the edge of having been picked too long ago. But it was food. If I’d been bound to the forest, I’d have lost my mind from the lack of variety in food. Kye snatched the chunk of meat I tossed at him. I watched him hold it in place with one foot to tear a bite off.

  “Is it strange, to shapeshift?” I asked after a few minutes, if only to break the silence.

  Kye dipped his head side to side in answer,

  “You get used to it?” I guessed. He bobbed his head.

  “Did you realize what was happening the first time? The first time you stepped into the sun?”

  He paused, then gave a quick, subtle head shake.

  I couldn’t imagine it—one second being yourself, and the next everything changing.

  No, I could. That was the problem.

  I swallowed the thought and watched him eat. Every movement was sure, smooth. No hesitation; he’d adapted to the form, as strange as it must have been. When he caught me watching, he made a quiet, chirpy little sound—so tame that I blinked—and flew to stand beside me. He didn’t so much as look up, tearing into his lunch, but extended one wing partway. Toward me. Motionless. Expectant.

  The same way he’d stood on the branch and waited, let me decide. He hadn’t shied from my instinctive reaction to touch him, and he hadn’t been offended when I’d changed my mind. But he knew.

  Kye wasn’t dumb—he was far from it. He was clever enough to know when to speak and when to keep quiet. Clever enough not to bother with the act I put on for the others. I knew there was no hiding the fascination coursing through me, which sparked every time I saw them shift or heard them speak of their curse. Every time I looked at him. And he didn’t falter to offer me more.

  I didn’t know why. The part of me that had been raised and trained a Morningspell wanted to ask why, because surely it somehow put him at an advantage. But another tiny, awakening part didn’t care.

  I brushed my fingertips along his wing. Muscle and delicate bone beneath a velvety surface. My fingers traced the curve of it, the spread and layering of the feathers. Countless shades in them, from the pale, dusty gold of sunstone to dark brown amber. “Is it strange to say you’re beautiful?” I asked, voice soft.

  His eyes gleamed with amusement, but he dipped his head in thanks and tucked his wing in again.

  We finished lunch in silence, and then continued.

  At the brisker, more direct pace than my wandering to find shelter, we neared the spot where Katherine and I had fought at sundown. The sky was streaking orange and red and purple, but Kye was solid feathers as he dove to land on an ice-encrusted log. The taste of magic lingered strong in the air, like blood coating the back of my throat, and I paused to judge the direction it came from.

  “We’re close,” I said. He took off again to follow me.

  I saw the stirred snow, the light snowfall on and off all day too little to cover it, and then felt the thrum of the magic’s center. The spot I’d cast the magic. Snow piled in uneven mounds, gouges struck through them, pawprints deep. The wolves had found her, as Sarafine had wished for me. If only it had been Sarafine’s body. I couldn’t help a grim smile at the irony.

  She was still there, but there was less of her. The cold had preserved pieces of her pretty face, woven miniature diamonds through her dark hair, frosted the folds of her dress. A bloodied, broken, ravaged doll.

  Kye glided closer to find a perch with an expression that asked, You did this?

  I forced a shrug. “The wolves got to her, it appears.”

  He landed in the snow, shifting in the shadows of the trees as the sun dipped. I turned away, kicking my boots through the mounds of snow and searching for a gleam of silver or blue. “You can do what you like with her. I don’t care. I dropped something when I was here last; I’m going to look for it.”

  “What could you possibly want to search through this for?”

  I kept my hearing trained on his every movement. “A hair stick.”

  I was sure I heard him mutter, “Nobles,” before he started shuffling around the corpse. We both worked in silence, the cold biting, but I found no sign of the hair stick. I told myself I was disappointed because it was a useful weapon, and not because it was a reminder of that fleeting day where my mother had felt like a mother.

  I’d given up when Kye spoke. “Neyva.” Not a question but not a summons, either. I paused. “Who was she?”

  “A witch,” I answered. Sort of.

  “A witch you knew?”

  I glanced over my shoulder. He was crouched on the ground, studying Katherine’s frozen and bloody face, her glazed eyes and dark waves. His gaze slid from her to me. “I know quite a few witches.” My voice came out tight. Katherine hadn’t been a witch and hadn’t deserved to die like one.

  “You’re a good liar, Neyva,” he commented.

  . “It’s not a lie. I do know witches. She may not have been a proper witch, but she was being used by one. A witch’s magic came through her.”

  Silence, and then, “Why
are they trying to kill you?”

  I smiled—not the noble’s smile, but the witch’s. Cold. Clean. Merciless. “Don’t you know that witches can’t afford to let their own run wild?”

  His expression didn’t flicker. “Who are they? How much do they know about what you can do?”

  My throat was dry, and I forced myself to answer. I didn’t want to give Kye more insight into me, but he needed it. I could sacrifice a little mystery for safety. “They’re my family. They know everything.”

  Something raw flared through his eyes, so quick it had to be imagined. “How many are there?”

  “Two behind her. There could be a third, and I’m going to assume there is to be safe.” I didn’t want to think about Tulia helping them, but I couldn’t rule it out. I couldn’t let myself be caught off guard.

  He sighed through his nose, scrutinizing Katherine’s body. “I can work with those odds.”

  Fourteen

  “You’re watching me,” Kye said as we sat in our little makeshift camp. Neither of us had wanted to make the walk to the tunnels in the dark. A fire, lit and shielded by a quick spell that had gotten me a curious little once-over from him, burned bright and warmed the space . Enough to make it…cozy. Every inch of me was on high alert, tracking every noise and shifting shadow outside, and every one of Kye’s movements.

  I straightened, watching him though he wasn’t watching me; his attention was fixed on something outside. I almost lied, said I’d been doing no such thing, but there was no point when we’d both see it for what it was. “You’re interesting to watch.”

  “Am I?” I couldn’t read his expression. I hated it.

  “And I’m not convinced you’re safe to be alone with,” I added.

  His half smile was wry. “I’m not convinced you are either, so I guess it’s fair.”

  I made a show of adjusting my skirt around my legs. “What ever could you mean? I’m nothing more than a lost noble girl.”

  Kye snorted. “And I’m a harmless little songbird.”