“Azelanders,” Mari says, rolling her eyes.
“It’s been five minutes. I win. Let’s go celebrate my victory. Inside.”
“I see one!” Ronan calls from up ahead, pointing down the street.
“One what?” No one responds, but a second later my question is answered anyway.
A horse trots around the corner, tiny bells on its bridle jingling. It’s pulling a large wooden sleigh behind it. The sleigh’s runners glide across the surface of the snow, its red paint gleaming in the sun. A man sits in the front, his gloved hands holding the horse’s reins.
It looks like something out of a fairy tale. The kind of thing we’d see in drawings in some of the books at the orphanage. I remember laughing with some of the orphanage kids, saying that it couldn’t possibly be real.
But the horse and sleigh gliding down the street toward us are very real.
Well, only the sleigh is gliding. The snow is a bit high even for the horse, and it’s kind of plodding along through the powder. Ronan waves to the driver, who turns the horse toward us and pulls the sleigh to a stop.
“Five jamars per passenger,” the driver says, which sounds awfully overpriced to me, but I guess on a day like today he can charge whatever he wants. This is probably the only form of transportation available anywhere in the city right now, except for the nobles who can afford thilastri.
Ronan withdraws the coins from somewhere in his oversize coat, and the three of us climb aboard the sleigh behind the driver’s seat. The wooden bench is padded, but the cushions are a bit damp. I kick a few clumps of snow off the bottoms of my boots, watching it fall to the wooden floor of the sleigh. Ronan squeezes onto the bench beside me, the sleeve of his coat brushing against mine.
“Where to?” the driver asks.
“Saint Ilaina’s Park,” Ronan says, which doesn’t give me a clue about anything. A lot of parks are probably named after the patron of nature.
The driver tips his hat and taps the reins, and the sleigh lurches forward.
It’s definitely not the most dramatic or terrifying ride I’ve ever had—that award goes to the flying carriage pulled by a thilastri that soared hundreds of feet into the air and perched on precarious mountain cliffs while taking me to the Guild—but it’s not exactly the smoothest either. The sleigh bumps and skids much more than someone with a stomach full of chicken soup and hot chocolate would prefer. The driver takes a wide turn, and the sleigh slides a little too far out, nearly hitting an innocent lamppost, before righting itself again and lurching forward. I grip the nearest railing with one heavily gloved hand.
Mari is completely undisturbed by the sleigh’s movements. She leans back, one arm draped over the side railing, admiring the view of the snow-covered city around us. But Ronan keeps both arms inside the sleigh and looks at me with sympathy. “The rides take a while to get used to,” he shouts at me over the wind. “But you do get used to it.”
“Yeah, Ronan nearly passed out during his first one,” Mari jokes.
“How would you know? You weren’t even there,” he protests.
“I have a good imagination.”
They exchange romantic smiles that are a little bit cute but mostly gross, and I have to look away.
As we turn down the street, the white point of the chapel’s steeple gleams in the sunlight. Oh God, I didn’t even think about Beck until now. How’s he handling all this snow? Is he warm enough? Does he have enough firewood? Is he trapped inside? Does he have food and water?
I wish I could check on him, but the snow makes that impossible. There’s no way I’d make it up the hill and through the woods in this mess, even if I could get away from Mari and Ronan. Maybe Rosalia will be able to check on him. I hope.
I try to push the thought of Beck freezing to death out of my mind. He’s tough. He’s survived worse than a little snowstorm. He’ll be fine. Probably.
As we travel deeper into the city, the snow grows deeper too. The horse has to move more slowly, his hooves plodding into the thick powder. We could probably walk faster than this on an ordinary, snowless day. We pass another sleigh filled with passengers at a cross street, but otherwise the city is deserted, the doors and windows on buildings we pass shut tightly. The wind is brittle and sharp as it buffets my face, and I shiver.
“You know, we really should have brought some of that hot chocolate along with us,” I say.
“Good point.” Mari looks at Ronan. “Why didn’t we think of that?”
“Hey, I’m the one who made the hot chocolate. I can’t be responsible for packing it too.”
I shake my head at him. “Honestly, what good is making it if we can’t drink it?”
“Another excellent point,” Mari says with a grin.
I shudder against a gust of wind. Without seeming to think twice about it, Ronan reaches over and wraps his arm around me. I freeze, and not from the cold. This has never happened to me before. What do I do?
After hesitating for a second, I let myself lean in closer to him. This feels sort of . . . nice. Also weird, because we’re both wrapped in massive furry coats and our poof creates a literal barrier between us. But the warmth of his arm against my back starts to seep through my coat, and it’s okay, I guess.
“You know what else this sleigh ride needs? Heated seats,” Mari says.
“Mm.” I nod in agreement. “Also a built-in fireplace. And walls and a ceiling and an actual floor.”
“So, a house,” Ronan says.
“Exactly. Indoors. With no snow. Or cold. Or wind. Or—”
Mari just shakes her head at me. “Azelanders.”
“Would you stop saying that? Hating cold and snow is a perfectly reasonable position. Also practical. Because, you know, it can kill you.”
Mari laughs. “Really? I’d never heard that before.”
“Hey. Sarcasm is my bit. I have that area of humor covered, thanks.”
Mari just grins mischievously. “I learn from the best.”
Ronan laughs, giving my shoulder an affectionate squeeze.
The sleigh lurches to an abrupt halt, nearly throwing us forward into the driver’s seat. “Your destination,” the driver says gruffly.
Mari leaps out of the sleigh, yanking her black bag with her. “Let’s go!” she says.
Ronan grins and jumps out after her, landing in a puff of white powder. He turns and offers a hand to me, but I brush past him. If they can climb out by themselves, I don’t need any—
My right boot slips on a slick spot, and my foot flies out from under me. Ronan swoops down and catches my flailing arm, keeping me from falling. “Careful,” he says. “It’s slick.”
“Oh really? I hadn’t noticed,” I grumble, regaining my footing. Ronan releases my arm but reaches for my hand instead, and together we follow Mari.
Saint Ilaina’s Park is way, way bigger than most of the ones I’ve seen in Ruhia so far. On the far side, across from the entrance, it’s bordered by a series of small hills. Ahead and to the left is a frozen pond, stretching out farther than the eye can see. To our right is what looks like a series of tree-lined gardens (though it’s hard to tell, because any plants that might be there are buried in snow).
“Now will someone tell me what we’re doing here?” I ask, but I already have an idea. Several kids dart by us, and families are everywhere—laughing, running, shouting, playing. This must be what Ruhians do to pass the time after a blizzard.
“We’re here to have fun,” Ronan says, confirming my guess. “In Azeland there’s not much snow to work with, but here you can do everything. Build snowmen, make snow angels, go sledding . . .”
The word “sledding” brings back the memories again: a sled careening down an ice-covered tunnel, me flying through the air, racing thieves through the ice caves outside the Guild—
It makes me think of Beck, which brings my guilt lurching back. I can only imagine how awful it must be for him right now—
“You forgot the most important thing,” Mari s
ays to Ronan, jolting me from my thoughts. She reaches into her bag and pulls out . . . an ice skate.
I’ve never seen an actual ice skate in person before. In Azeland, the ice is usually so thin that skating is dangerous, and it’s not like there are many bodies of water in the middle of the city anyway. Even if there were, I never would’ve seen them, having been in the orphanage for most of my time there. The skate looks pretty much like I pictured—a little boot with a blade strapped to the bottom. But the blade is thinner than I would’ve expected. Much, much thinner.
“You’re actually going to walk around on that death trap?” I ask.
They both laugh. “No,” Mari says, “we all are.” And then she pulls another skate out of the bag. One that looks like it’s my size.
“Oh no,” I say, backing away. “No, no, no, no, no.”
“Come on,” Mari says, “it’s fun.”
“Azelander, remember?” I say, pointing to myself. “We don’t skate.”
“Ah, but you’re a Ruhian now,” Mari says, “and we do.”
I imagine myself attaching tiny little blades of metal onto my feet and attempting to glide forward on them. I imagine myself falling on my face and breaking it. “No, no, no, no, no.”
“I didn’t get it at first either,” Ronan says, reaching into his bag for his own skates. “But it’s fun.”
“He’s actually still terrible,” Mari says cheerfully, producing a second me-size skate from her bag of death. “Don’t worry. You won’t look any more ridiculous than he does.”
“Aw thanks,” Ronan replies dryly, but he doesn’t seem embarrassed.
“Oh, come on,” Mari says. “We’re wasting daylight!” She takes off toward the pond, and Ronan gestures for me to follow her. I groan and trudge through the snow.
“I’m already a fur-covered puffball,” I say irritably. “Now you want me to strap little metal blades to my feet and try to balance on them. How much more hardship can I possibly be asked to endure?”
Mari rolls her eyes at me. I wish she’d stop imitating all of my signature moves. “You’ll manage.”
We sit on a bench at the edge of the pond and exchange our snow boots for ice skates. Mine aren’t a perfect fit, but they’re pretty close. Where did Mari get these? Have she and Ronan been planning this little excursion this whole time, and just waiting for it to snow?
It gives me a weird feeling in my chest, thinking about Ronan and Mari making plans for me. Planning to do fun things, like going to the park and ice-skating together.
Almost like a real family.
I push those thoughts aside and focus on lacing up my skates. I do it as slowly as possible, to delay my impending humiliation. Also because I have to take my mittens off to do it, and my fingers are stiff with cold.
Once we’re all laced up, Ronan stands and offers me his hands. This time I don’t refuse his help. I grip him tightly as I rise from the bench, already wobbling on my skates. “It gets easier on the ice,” Ronan says, tugging me forward, but I don’t believe him.
Mari takes the few steps down to the pond as gracefully as a swan. Once her blades hit the ice, she glides forward, then does a smooth little spin to face Ronan and me. We’re locked arm in arm, moving one cautious, wobbly step at a time toward the edge of the pond. To her credit, Mari doesn’t laugh at us. She looks amused, though, and I can’t say I blame her.
At the edge of the pond, Ronan steps onto the ice first. He takes a few shaky steps, looking less like a swan and more like a clown. Now I see why Mari wanted to do this. Watching Ronan flail around is hilarious.
But Mari isn’t watching him; she’s holding out a hand to me. “Come on, Alli,” she says. “Show him how it’s done.”
The only thing I’m going to be showing anyone is how to fall down. I take a single step forward, my right blade landing on the ice—
And skidding wildly out from under me, just like on the patch of ice earlier. This time it’s Mari who catches me, bracing my arms before I hit the ground. Both of my skates are on the ice now, wobbling uncontrollably, and I flail my left arm, trying to balance, as Mari keeps a strong hold on my right. Despite her best efforts, I almost pull her down too.
“Just relax,” Mari says. “Try to keep your legs steady.”
“I can’t balance on these things!”
“Try to keep your eyes focused on a single point. That will help with your balance.”
I glare at a button on her coat. “This is stupid.” But it does seem to help a little.
“You’re doing great!” Ronan calls, wobbling past us.
“Bend your knees a little more,” Mari says, tightening her grip on my hands as I try to adjust. “There you go!”
“I can’t believe you actually do this for fun.” Although it does look fun, the way Mari does it.
“Okay, I’m going to let go for a second,” she says. “See if you can balance on your own.”
She drops my hands and backs away.
Instantly I lose my focus on the button on her coat, and I can’t stop wobbling. I fling my arms out for balance, but I overcorrect and topple backward, feet flying out from under me.
I’ll say one thing for all of this padded winter clothing: It really helps cushion a fall.
“Are you okay?” Mari asks, gliding toward me.
“No. I’m dead. I’ve broken everything and now I’m dead.”
Mari rolls her eyes again. “You’re fine.” She helps me to my feet, and we start the whole process all over again.
After falling down for the five thousandth time, I give up. I let myself tumble into the snowy edge of the pond, my head landing in the powder. I groan.
“Surely you’re not done yet,” Ronan teases, skating shakily in my direction. He’s probably fallen down a hundred times but is still more successful at staying upright than me.
“Just leave me here to die,” I moan.
Ronan stops beside me, flinging his arms out wide to find his balance. Mari laughs at both of us as she skates by, loops around, and does a perfect figure eight.
That’s the last straw. I pull myself farther up the bank and gather some of the snow in my hands. Before Mari or Ronan realize what’s happening, I lob the snowball right at her. It smacks into her arm, and the surprise is just enough to mess up her balance. Her skates fly out from under her for the first time all day.
She sits for a moment, completely stunned, and then her face breaks into an evil grin. “Oh, you’re going to pay for that.”
Oops. I scramble farther up the snowbank, but it’s nearly impossible to move in this outfit and skates. Mari has already regained her feet and is now racing toward me, reaching for her own snowball.
Frantically I scoop up another handful of snow, pack it as best I can, and toss it in her direction. It goes wide, and she throws one right at my chest. It bursts against my coat.
“Direct hit!” Mari yells, throwing her arms up in triumph.
My next snowball knocks the hat off her head.
Behind me, Ronan bursts out laughing. Mari’s eyes narrow, and we exchange conspiratorial glances. We bend down almost in unison, scooping up more snowballs. I give her the signal. “One!” I count.
Too late, Ronan realizes what’s happening. He tries to get to his feet, but he’s too shaky on his skates. “Two!” Mari yells.
On three, we both hurl snow right at him.
Ronan goes down in a flurry of powder, laughing all the while. Mari and I run toward him, still flinging snow in his direction. (Well, Mari runs. I stumble.)
Ronan tosses a halfhearted snowball at me, but it bounces uselessly off my leg. I aim another at his chest. It hits directly over his heart—
And something hits me in the back, sending me tumbling into the snow beside Ronan.
“Cheat!” I shout at Mari. “My back was turned!”
Ronan and I both lunge for her, and she falls into the snow beside me, laughing. On my other side, Ronan lies back, smiling up at the sky. A snowflake is stuck t
o his cheek, and the whole front of his coat is dusted with powder.
Mari lies down too, shaking snow from her gloves. I sit between them, catching my breath. I’ve practically stopped noticing the cold—I’m too warm from exertion and energy.
Ronan turns toward me, giving me one of his infamous smiles. “Mari might be the expert on ice-skating,” he says, “but I am a champion snow angel maker.”
“Is that so?” I raise my eyebrows, though he probably can’t see them under the brim of my woolly hat. “Well, I’m afraid you’re about to lose your championship, because I am the queen of snow angels.”
“Oh?” Ronan says, his arms already carving wings through the snow.
“The snow in Azeland is never thick enough to do anything but make snow angels,” I say. At the orphanage, sometimes the Sisters would let us play out in the garden when it snowed, but there usually wasn’t enough on the ground to make snowmen, and fighting with each other was strictly prohibited, even in snowball fights. The Sisters were big fans of snow angels, though, so we’d cover the garden with them. Everyone picked out a spot, made their angel, and then stood back to judge their handiwork. Dozens of little imprints on the ground, all a little separate from the others, all a little alone.
Now, as I pump my limbs back and forth through the snow, my arm keeps brushing against Ronan on one side, my skate nearly colliding with Mari on the other. I should get up so that I’ll have more room, but I don’t.
Ronan stands first, stepping carefully around the shape he left in the snow, and offers me a hand up, then Mari. We stand together and look down at three angels, their edges overlapping, side by side by side.
I get a funny kind of lump in my throat and have to turn away quickly.
Or I try to turn away, but I completely forget that I’m still wearing stupid ice skates instead of boots. The blade on my left foot refuses to find purchase in the snow, and I crash into Ronan. We both go down, landing at the foot of his snow angel.
“Sabotage!” Ronan cries, pretending to be indignant. “Intentional destruction of my angel!”
Mari laughs, but I don’t. “It’s fine,” I say. “We all know yours was the best anyway.”
The Shadow Thieves Page 16
