I left him there, playing with the ring in his lip like it helped him think. He didn’t say goodbye.
My mind was a storm, the entire day swirling and snapping. Wesley’s mark, a strange book nobody understood the purpose of. Aurynn being sent after shadow creatures. Their claws—for magic, but why? For what kind of spell, and cast by whom? Idris’s questions—can you do it or not? Tamsin’s incident and what I didn’t want it to mean.
There was still fear lurking in Kye’s eyes when I met them in the clearing. The moon gilded them, and yet so much chaos rolled off them I could see how they’d survived so many years in the North. It was a near-palpable cloud: all they did was lean against a tree, arms folded, but I shivered. It was easy to forget, with their smooth voice and gentle touch, how much danger was in that lean body.
They looked in about as good of a mood as I was. They held a knife to me without a word, and I turned it in my hands before sliding into the stance they’d taught me.
Kye kicked off the tree, eyes riveted on me. “Do you want to talk about what happened with Tamsin?”
Tamsin was fine, if a bit shaken by the ordeal, and I knew they didn’t really mean him. They meant everything else—what the mishap meant. What it served to remind everybody of. That this curse was meant to hurt them, not for playing in the skin of animals. That it was getting worse. That time would run out.
That something sat unspoken between the two of us, and sooner or later we’d have to make a choice. Face it or leave it. Face the fact that lightning flashed beneath my skin when those golden eyes met mine—or let it slip away and ignore it. The deadly unknown or the safe predictability, a choice we wouldn’t have the luxury of thinking about for long.
I rolled my neck and shifted the weight of the weapon. “No.”
“Good. I don’t, either.”
Then they moved. Faster than I expected, and I stumbled. Their knife struck the edge of my arm as I dodged—angled to keep from slicing me open, but hard enough to bruise. I hissed out a breath and ducked under their arm, but they were faster, every motion smooth and flawless.
“Focus,” Kye said as I stumbled and missed for the third time. I gritted my teeth.
Another miss. Another. Again and again, Kye delivered attacks that would have killed me in other circumstances. Each one made the frustration in my belly burn hotter, reason after reason piling up until I thought I would explode. When my muscles were burning and my breath labored, we locked together, every inch of me tensed against the strike I was failing to block.
Kye’s eyes bore into mine, their voice low but strong. “Why are you angry?”
“I’m not angry,” I gritted my teeth.
“You’re angry. At me?”
“No.”
“At the curse? Your sisters? The world in general?”
“I’m not angry, Kye,” I snapped.
I wasn’t. Anger got you nowhere. Anger was what had killed Desmond and driven me from my home. I didn’t regret either, not truly, but it led to bad things. It was something other than control, and anything other than control was fatal. This temper, this frustration—I needed to reign it in.
“You can lie to everybody else but not to me. You know you can’t lie to me. Whatever started that storm in your eyes, use it.”
I pushed harder, arms trembling. “I wasn’t made to fight. I was raised on an estate.”
“I was seven,” they shot back. “I wasn’t made to fight, as well. When it’s fight or die, you make it work.”
I was on a time limit I couldn’t keep track of, and I didn’t know what to do. I could feel the tension in the air, feel my family closing in. They would kill me if they got the opportunity. If I slipped in my defenses, I would be dead. That was it. If they could counteract my magic, if I couldn’t rely on it, I would be nothing more than waiting prey. I hated it all.
Whatever started that storm in your eyes, use it.
Sarafine. Mother. Desmond. Liars. Traitors.
Tamsin. Rayick. Enaelle. Gentle. Kind.
Idris. Aurynn. Wesley. Fierce, but good.
Kye.
Kye, beyond any of them.
I spun, moving as quick as my feet could, praying my toes would stay firm in the snow, and knocked Kye’s arm away. Then my knife was angled at their throat, and we both froze again, the sole sound our breathing. Clouds plumed into the air.
We were inches apart. Close enough for the warmth of their skin to melt the edge off the chill on mine. Yet again, so close, that stillness falling over us.
Yet again, something in my belly squirmed.
I jerked, and Kye stood there and blinked at me. They appeared to take a second longer than usual to gather themself and then straightened. “Good,” they murmured, as out of breath as I was. “That was better. Again?”
“Again.” I’d go until I couldn’t stand any longer if it helped. If it got me an edge. If it stopped the whirlwind of thoughts.
If it left me that close to Kye, sharing breath.
We kept sparring, Kye not bothering to correct my technique, leaving me to do it by feel and instinct and observation. Putting my mind to work as much as my body—clever, like always. Always somehow knowing what I didn’t say. I threw every thought from my head, flinging them into my feet and hands, into my blade. So there was nothing but the stars and the biting cold and the blood pumping through me. No thought. No fear. No curse. No anger. Just the way we moved, the burn in my muscles, and my heartbeat—faster with every step, with every breath, with every brush of skin.
My heart pounded their name—Kye, Kye, Kye, Kye.
For once the thought of stopping it didn’t enter my head.
Twenty-One
“Neyva.”
I burrowed deeper into my furs and ignored the soft, silky voice. They were dark and warm, and I was not ready to give that up for the cold outside yet.
“Neyva. Get up.”
“Go away, Kye,” I mumbled, pulling the first covering my hand found over my head. “I’m sleeping.”
I had been sleeping. Sleep still beckoned me, half-awake from a blissfully dreamless night, but something burned in my chest and face as their voice pulled me into the waking world.
Last night. Training. Vicious and ruthless and chaotic, a much-needed escape for both of us, but also…
The heat of them. The closeness. The things left unspoken.
“Aren’t noblewomen supposed to get up with the sun to read or cross stitch or do whatever it is you spend your time doing?”
I forced away the memory of last night, “You’re confusing noblewomen with bored spinsters. Now get out of my cave.”
“I’m not in your cave.”
I pulled the furs down and opened my eyes, seeing Kye standing a foot from the line, waiting, and then buried myself again. “Smartass.”
A laugh. “What do they think of that language in Acalta?”
“Only you and your scoundrel friends bring out that language. You’re terrible influences.”
“We’re scoundrels now?”
“Rayick insisted upon it.” They grinned, candlelight making their golden eyes into smoldering jewels. “What is it?”
“Get up.”
“You said that already, and I don’t take orders from shapeshifting barbarians.”
“Are you always this crabby in the mornings?”
“Only when I spent all night being beaten by said shapeshifting barbarian.” I stifled a yawn and sat up, raking loose hair from my face. Something in Kye’s expression flickered and I made sure that my gown hadn’t shifted out of place and exposed anything. “Tell me this isn’t the first time you’ve seen a woman first thing in the morning,” I said as I stood, wincing with every aching bruise and muscle.
They cleared their throat, cutting their gaze aside. “No. Find something to eat if you want it. We’re leaving.”
I folded my arms. “Leaving where?”
“You’ll see.” With a flash of a smile they vanished.
I st
ared after them. Stupid, Neyva. Get your head together before you get yourself into trouble. I suspected I was already in trouble.
I shook the thought off and stood, slamming a wall down on every bit of fuzzy warmth that tinted the realization that Kye had come to wake me up. Squashed it flat and dead.
Better.
A half hour later I had tamed my hair, pulled on my boots, and scrounged up a small breakfast, but saw no sign of the others. The tunnels were silent—peaceful in the early morning calm. Whether they had gotten up early and gone or were still asleep I couldn’t tell, and I didn’t bother to check. I wondered what was different about this morning, where Kye was so insistent on going so early and so suddenly. Whether the others were accompanying us or not.
I walked to Kye’s makeshift room, leaning a shoulder in the entrance. They were bent over their notebook again, and though I’d silenced my steps I’d failed to sneak up on them.
“Ready?” they asked.
“What are you writing?”
Their golden gaze gleamed with amusement, and without a word they tucked the book away, slung their bag over their shoulder, and passed me. “Maybe something about you,” they said as they led me into the tunnels—the opposite direction I was used to. I paused for a second and then followed.
“What would you write about me?” I asked. “‘Beautiful, cunning, deadly, and a brilliant swordswoman in the making?’”
“A passable swordswoman in the making, if she works on her aim,” they replied with the ghost of a smile.
I scoffed and Kye laughed, and I thought my breath might catch. Lady, this needed to stop. But I wanted to hear that laugh again.
Kye tilted their head, studying the weapon woven into my hair. “Rayick got it to you, I see.”
I resisted the urge to touch the hair stick. “Yes, he did.”
“I hope you’re grateful. He spent hours digging, and eagles are not meant to fly all day in the snow. I was half numb by the time we got back.”
I should have seen it coming, but, far from the first time, they caught me off guard. I was unsure of why that casual little statement made something in my belly writhe. Something warm and restless. “You helped?”
“Rayick only knew the direction you’d come from, and I told him it was a terrible idea to track your scent all the way and hope he found the right place,” Kye replied. “It was easier to find the right area from the sky.”
That warmth twisted and tangled itself and I shoved it down. Deep, deep down. A beat of silence passed before I commented, “Well, I hope Rayick recovered.”
A flicker of a smile pulled at Kye’s lips. “He’s been through far worse for less reason.”
“He is good like that.”
I could feel Kye’s presence like a fire smoldering beside me. Through four layers of clothing it singed my arm, my leg, all the way down my right side. I breathed, “Thank you.”
Kye slowed, for a fraction of a second, like I’d taken them unawares. Finally. When they recovered, their tone was its usual quicksilver melody, but I hadn’t missed the slip. “I believe that’s the first genuine thing you’ve ever said to me.”
“Who said it’s the first?”
“You play games, Neyva. Secrets and ulterior motives. I’m not dumb enough to miss it.”
“No, you aren’t. And I’m not dumb enough to miss that you have other reasons for getting me this than stopping Rayick from wasting his time.”
They hesitated, and answered softly, “It means something to you.”
It did. It meant a lot of things to me, and I chose which to reveal with care. “It was a gift from my mother.”
“You said you hate your mother.”
“I plan to drive this through her throat the next time I see her.”
There was no shock or horror at the statement. Kye and said, “I’m happy to have helped save your plans.”
I knew they were smiling.
The tunnels narrowed as we walked, until Kye had to walk ahead of me. The heavy stone walls gave way to packed dirt, sleeping roots creeping in a net overhead. Gaps let sunlight filter down and cast white-gold dapples on the ground.
Kye wrapped the shadows around themselves like a cloak, every step careful. I watched, waiting for a ray to hit them and send those golden feathers rippling across their skin, but they avoided it. “Where are we going?” I asked yet again.
Their half-smile was a dare. “Don’t you trust me, Neyva?”
More than I cared to admit. “Hardly.”
“Well, I’m not bringing you out here to kill you, I promise.”
“I wasn’t worried you were.” They wouldn’t get far if they tried, after all.
They cast a glance at me, eyes bright in the dimness. “Sounds like you trust me a little.” Before I could respond they pushed back an overhanging branch in a low opening, evergreen needles waving with the motion, and gestured for me to come closer. I ducked beneath a low rock and crept up beside them.
“What are we doing here?” Why did my voice come out as a whisper?
“You said this forest is dead and empty,” they murmured, their breath brushing my ear. “I felt the need to change your mind.”
The opening revealed a little clearing, lined on one side by the rock wall we hid within and by shivering evergreens on the rest. Rocks, fallen logs, and rolling ground made it uneven, snow piling in drifts and valleys. The sunlight filtered through the trees, slanted beams tinted gold and green splaying across the ground. It threw shadows and shimmering highlights all around.
“Go on,” Kye said when I stared. I slipped around them to step into the clearing. The winter air cut into me as deep as ever, the quiet was no less than anywhere else, but there was a peace here. Less like held breath and more like sleep. It felt like a shame to ruin the untouched blanket of snow, so I stayed in place, absorbing every inch of the sight, and noticed I’d put Kye at my back when they shifted, boots scraping against stone.
I looked back but saw they’d settled into the opening, reclining against the wall with one knee bent. “You aren’t coming?”
“And leave a lady without a conversational companion? That would be rude of me.”
I brushed snow off a rock and sat, watching them. Sometimes I thought I was getting close to understanding them, being able to read what they meant and wanted, like everybody else, but other times I couldn’t begin to guess. “Do you miss the sun?” I asked.
“I can go into the sun anytime I like.”
“Do you miss feeling it on your skin? Or is the sky worth it?”
Their gaze traced the sunbeams up, where they faded into blue. “There’s nothing quite like flight, Neyva. This is a curse, and I want rid of it as much as the others, but I can’t deny that I’ll miss the feeling of the wind in my feathers. But the sun…” They reached one hand past the darkness of the rock face. Sunlight danced off their golden skin for an instant and then feathers covered it like fire starting. “It’s not so bad in the winter. When summer comes, I’ll miss it again.”
“You say that like you don’t believe I’ll break your curse by then.”
They ignored the question unspoken and pulled their hand back into shadow. “I enjoy flying, but this life is dark and cold. But you understand that, don’t you?”
I made sure my expression was smooth and neutral. “Why do you say that?”
“You remind me of snow, Neyva. Beautiful, harsh, cold—and one day going to be ruined beyond repair.”
I looked away and tried not to think that maybe I had been.
The silence was profound and held something I could name, but I didn’t let myself think about for long. I watched the trees, the sky. Like a painting. Magical—magical enough that I felt it in my fingertips, but in a different way. A magic that had nothing to do with my being a witch. If I’d believed in the little pixies and elves of children’s stories, I would have expected to see them dancing here. Maybe building tiny forts in the snow or weaving pine needles into crowns.
> Like the thought had wandered into my hands, I plucked a few needles from the branch beside me and twisted them together. I felt Kye’s eyes on me. When I had seven or eight woven together they asked, “What are you doing?”
I pulled another needle free and threaded it through an opening. “It’s what we used to do for Silver Night when we were children. Make crowns for the pixies.”
A short, whispered breath of laughter. “You believed in pixies?”
I fought the heat creeping into my cheeks. “When I was young. I learned better quick enough.”
Kye was watching me, their gaze soft. “I did, too. But we didn’t make them crowns. We left them hot cream.”
I smiled. “I didn’t know you celebrated it in the North.”
“We call it Ilenmaye. The slumber of the earth, if you translate it literally into Selliiran. We stay awake through the night, burning the fires, telling stories, drinking. When I was young, I always fell asleep, no matter how hard I tried to stay awake to hear my father’s stories.”
In Selliira, Silver Night—the longest night of the year, the deepest point of winter—was a night for prayers and thanks. It was quiet and solemn, and ever since I’d grown out of the fanciful tales to entertain children, I’d never enjoyed it much. The image sparking to life in my mind now sounded heavenly.
“So the North does do some things that aren’t so terrible,” I commented.
The wistful smile came. “Some things.”
We didn’t say any more. We sat there and wove pixie crowns until our fingers were numb. I showed Kye how to properly thread the needles so they stayed together, and when we had a collection I laid them on the rock, one after another. A little line for any pixies who might show.
Foolish. I sounded like a little girl.
I didn’t care.
By the time I was done, the cold drove me out of the open and into the little entrance to the tunnels. I sat beside Kye, our backs to the wall, and watched the sunlight dip and shift through the little clearing, catching on icicles like they were hanging crystals. There were so many things I could have been doing—practicing or working with the curse. Making a plan to fight my sisters. I couldn’t gather the motivation to do any of it. Not with Kye inches away and a thousand questions circling my head.
The Ruin of Snow Page 19
