Chapter 45
eciding to go west narrows our options.
Rowell lies wedged between the frozen Follen Lake and the TaronD River, with barely any room to manoeuvre. Whichever way we choose, there’s no easy path through. ‘Any preference, Caz?’ I ask. ‘You studied the maps.’ ‘Yeah, but unfortunately the maps don’t give any indication of the weather, and that’s going to be what causes us trouble this far up north.’ She’s right. Over the last day it’s become noticeably colder, and the chilliness isn’t just coming from Kyor. ‘We should go east,’ Kyor grunts. ‘Closer to the lake.’ ‘But if it’s rained recently, that whole area will be frozen,’ Caz counters. ‘It’ll be like walking on an ice rink.’ ‘Which is not what we want with the horses,’ Ruben joins in. ‘Well, going by the river, the ground will be boggy. The mud there can be so thick that a man can disappear into it. It’s no less suitable for the horses than the lakeside,’ the prince snaps back. ‘The river will be okay,’ Benny says, ‘because it’s tidal.’ It’s the first time he’s spoken directly to Kyor since Galreck, and I half expect a lightning bolt to fire down from the sky, but it doesn’t.
There’s nothing. Complete and utter silence.
Benny clears his throat and continues. ‘We would just have to pick our time and route with care and make sure we stick to high ground. But at least that way we avoid having to deal with ice. I can’t remember how many times the river has frozen, but it’s a once-in-a-century type of event, rather than once a decade.’
‘Then the river gets my vote,’ Caz says.
Ruben also nods in agreement, but my gaze remains on Kyor.
His jaw is rigid, tension in every line of his frame. ‘We’re moving closer to Torailian territory that way,’ he finally says. ‘They’re not going to come this side of the river,’ Benny counters. ‘The river is officially ours, but in their eyes it is disputed territory,’ Kyor bites back. ‘None of you have experience with this land. I have, and I’m telling you, we’re safer with the lake.’ I’ve got one memory of the lake, and safety is definitely not what comes to mind. Instead, all I can think of is the spectres that filled the air, and the voices in my head, telling me to do dreadful things.
An image of Oke’s dead body flashes into my mind, a red splash among all the white.
Kyor looks at me, and his jaw softens a fraction. He’s remembering the same thing.
Something changed between us that day. He saved my life, stopping me from slitting my own throat, but he also saw what I was capable of. Saw the magic in me that could see Kay and me murdered.
Our eyes hold for a moment before he looks away.
Thessa and Stide are engaged in light conversation a little way away.
What I’d really like is the Sannings’ opinion on the matter. I’m sure they know which way is best for us to go, but they always stay remarkably silent during these discussions. ‘Thessa, Stide,’ I interrupt them. ‘You want to weigh in? You agreed to guide us, and so far … there’s been almost no guiding, and literally none since the hule.’ Thessa gives a beatific smile. ‘We guided your feet before, The Rose.
Now we guide your souls.’ My jaw drops. ‘Are you kidding me?’ It comes out high-pitched and
irritated.
Stide smirks. ‘I know. Tough job.’ I give her the best glare I have. But, if anything, her smile widens.
The discussion threatens to become more spirited, but before I can tell Stide exactly what I think of her guidance, another sound interrupts us. Elska.
It’s not a growl so much as a whine, and I’m pretty sure it’s the first time I’ve ever heard her make a noise like that.
Something tells me it’s not a good thing. It almost sounds as if she’s in
pain.
As Elska whines again, insistent, Kyor’s attention flicks to her, and something indecipherable flashes across his face. He draws in a long inhale. ‘Okay. We’ll go west,’ he says. ‘To the Taron River. Then I want out of that area as quickly as possible.’ His sudden capitulation makes my frown deepen. It is not like Kyor to give in to anything. ‘Fine then. We’re agreed,’ Benny says. ‘Let’s keep going. We still have some light left.’ With a nudge of our horses, we’re back on the road, but while the others continue their conversations, I remain silent, my attention locked on the prince leading us.
I wish Kyor would speak to me about anything other than directions, though what we could possibly talk about, I don’t know. How I hid Benny’s truth from him? How he continues to hide whatever it is he’s bound to secrecy over? Or how my brother, who his father condemned to death, still lives?
Despite me telling Kyor I love him, William’s continued existence isn’t something I can risk him knowing.
Maybe talking isn’t best after all. Still, I can’t stop stealing glances at him, unable to tear my eyes away for long. He’s definitely favouring his injured shoulder, and there are little lines of pain around his forehead.
The dose of Robbard’s tincture he took last night is bound to have worn off, and I wonder if I should remind him to take some more. But he’s a grown man. He doesn’t need me mothering him, and so I stay silent. If the pain gets bad enough, I’m sure he’ll remember to take it.
Then again, this is Kyor we’re talking about. He’s probably treating the pain as some kind of penance for letting Benny live.
The day drags on. Stops for food are brief and mostly silent, and we set up camp for the night when we can hear the rush of the river water, although it’s not yet visible through the density of the trees.
Loch is having the worst night I’ve seen in a while, pacing up and down as he wrings his hands. I thought his muttering was uneasy, but it’s the moments he stops, when he plummets into a silence so impenetrable that it’s as if he’s been pulled into the forest itself, that are the hardest.
Benny tries his best, and Ruben, too, with the pair taking turns trying to calm him, or at least remain by his side so that he doesn’t wander too far, but
Loch’s not the only one struggling.
Elska is also prowling, constantly circling us and whining as she does so.
Like Loch, the moments she stops are almost as hard as the ones filled with her whimpers.
If she had been acting like this yesterday, I would have asked Kyor if he knew what was disturbing her and if there was anything I could do to help.
But the last thing I need to hear is that her pain is his – that his injury is hurting her.
Or worse still, that the response is a shared mourning for Zelle – their torture over being so close to Benny, knowing he’s the one who brought about their friend’s death.
It’s all speculation, of course, and speculation helps no one. But though I can’t do anything to help Elska, there is, I realise, a way I can help Loch. ‘Thessa?’ I call to the Sanning. She’s currently talking to Caz, who has the book I took from the library at Galreck on her lap – the one that mentions the Sannings and vendari and is written in a language I can’t read. Yet judging by how far through the tome Caz is, the scribe is clearly making progress.
I wonder if she’s checking with Thessa about the validity of what she’s reading. It’s what I would be doing if I were her. But with her … particular interest in Thessa, that might not be the most diplomatic thing to do.
After the conversation Caz and I shared the other night, I feel bad for disturbing the pair, but what I need won’t take long. ‘That moss there’—I point to a tree covered in a deep green quilt—‘is that okay? Or is it … you know, Sannthrall?’ After what happened to Caz, I can only look at the seedless plant with a sense of trepidation. Not that I intend on lying down on it right now.
Pressing her lips together and notably disgruntled over being interrupted, Thessa walks across to me, only to prod the plant with her toe. ‘Normal,’ she replies laconically before turning around and heading back to Caz. I’d be interested to know how the pair have so much to talk about when she’s barely said three words to me all day, although it’s still more than I’ve got from Stide.
And it’s not like the pair talk much to each other either. If Caz hadn’t assured us that Thessa was telling the truth about the Sannings having no magic, I’d swear there had to be telepathy between them. ‘Thank you,’ I call to Thessa’s retreating back.
Now that I know it’s safe, I reach out with my magic to connect to the moss. I relax as I feel none of the foulness I felt with the Sannthrall. Only now do I realise how scared I was to connect to the plant.
The twisted tree packed one hell of a punch when I tried to fight it – it knocked me out, and Kyor stayed by my side for a whole day.
The thought makes me nostalgic. It seems unfair that I was unconscious the whole time, unable to see it for myself. Then again, what good would it have done to know he was there? He would have held me through every second of the other night, long after my nightmares had ended, if that’s what I’d asked him to do.
With a slight sniff, I shake away thoughts of Kyor. There’ll be plenty of time to brood over the prince.
For now, I can actually do something useful.
If Thessa had lingered by my side, I would have asked what she saw – or didn’t see – when she kicked the moss that told her it was fine, but for now, I focus on another task.
I bend over and peel several large clumps from the tree trunk, pick the dirt from the bottom, and then wash the moss using water from my flask. ‘What are you doing?’ Stide asks curiously. ‘Trying something different. Ruben,’ I call, ‘can you come here?’ Having swapped charge with Benny and no longer sticking to Loch’s side, Ruben’s taken a well-deserved place by the fire, but he instantly jumps to his feet to help. ‘If I were to give you some more magic, could you heat this up for me?’ He looks at the small pile of green matter in my hand. ‘Sure. What exactly do you want me to do?’ ‘Just heat it up enough to kill anything on it. But without burning it. No fire,’ I say emphatically. ‘Like drying the wood. But I don’t want this dried, just warmed. Does that make sense?’ ‘I think so.’ He nods, as if contemplating whether he can actually do it. ‘You okay to give me another hit of magic?’ ‘I hope so. Let’s give it a go anyway.’ Of all the powers that have been thrust upon me since the Retterheld, the power to transfer magic is one I feel I actually have control of, which makes me wonder where it could have come from.
Still, I’m not going to dwell on the matter now. Not when there are more practical matters to focus on.
With so many trees around me, the hardest part is knowing which to
make grow. Knowing one, at least, that’s safe to connect with, I extend the patch of moss on the tree that Thessa okayed and then draw the magic back
out and pass it into Ruben. ‘That enough?’ I ask.
He closes his eyes and a faint smile dusts his lips. ‘I will never get sick of that feeling,’ he says. He opens his eyes and meets my gaze. ‘I wish Mum could have seen this. She would have loved seeing me create a flame.’ ‘She would have,’ I agree softly, ‘but she was always so proud of you, just as you were. You know that.’ He shrugs his shoulders, as if he doesn’t believe what I’m saying.
With my task momentarily forgotten, I place my hand on his shoulder. ‘Ruben, she was so proud of how you used your gift. She would always talk to me about it. Talk about how many lives you must have saved.’
‘She did?’ I nod. ‘She did. Promise.’ He shakes his head slightly, as if trying to make the words sink in. ‘She never said anything like that to me.’ ‘Probably to keep that giant ego of yours down.’ I grin. ‘Yeah, makes sense.’ The laugh that leaves us is a mixture of humour and sadness. Ruben doesn’t have enough arrogance to fill his little finger, and we both know that.
Every bone in his body is pure kindness, just like Noleen’s was.
I’m just glad she’s no longer in pain. No longer suffering. ‘Okay,’ I say, drawing us back to the task at hand and pulling us out of the melancholy that threatens to claim us. ‘Over to you. Remember, I still need the moss mossy. I just need it sterilised, that’s all.’ Just like when he was drying out the wood, Ruben’s first attempt results in a pile of blackened, charred moss. His second attempt smokes lightly before also catching fire. ‘It’s all right, don’t worry,’ I tell him, but he shakes his head. ‘Just give me a couple of minutes. I can do it right. I nearly had it.’ This time he holds it in his hand longer than the others, but there are no great waves of magic flowing from him. Instead, there’s just a constant, low buzz. When he’s done, he blows it lightly to cool it down. When it’s cool enough for me to handle, he passes it back to me. ‘That’s as much as I can do without it turning crispy,’ he says. ‘But I think I got it hot enough.’
‘Thank you.’ The hopefully sterilised moss is still substantially hotter than I expected, and I’m forced to juggle it lightly between my hands for the first couple of moments to stop it from burning me. Thankfully, it doesn’t take long for it to cool enough to let me squeeze it into two little balls. I hold them in my hands and let my magic flow into them, not to grow them or change them, but to tell the moss what I want of it: silence.
I release the moss from my power, unsure whether I’ve added a magical component to it or not. ‘Loch?’ I call over to the older man. His eyes jerk towards me. ‘I’ve got something for you. Try these in your ears.’ I’ve no idea if they’ll work. After all, his hearing is magical, not just physical. But I think it’s worth a shot. And clearly he does, too, as he pushes them into his ear canals with eagerness. He instantly beams at me. ‘Better?’ I ask. ‘Much better,’ he yells, making me grin. Mission accomplished.
Loch’s pacing decreases, and while that allows Benny a little time to relax, it doesn’t ease the tension in the camp the way I hoped it would. The dire wolf’s unusual behaviour is making everyone nervous. Whatever’s going on with her, I’m now pretty sure this isn’t just about Kyor.
It takes me a few minutes to build up the courage to do what I have to do. ‘Hey.’ Kyor barely lifts his head to look at me, but he doesn’t tell me to fuck off, so I carry on. ‘What’s wrong with Elska? She wasn’t even this upset when we were racing to Galreck and you were dying on her back.’ Rather than responding, Kyor presses his lips together and takes a long
inhale through his nose. ‘I just want to help,’ I push.
Finally, he offers a nod. ‘She’s sensing pain, and she’s desperate to go and ease it, but she won’t leave me.’ It’s my turn to press my lips together, trying to ignore the lump that’s building in my throat. ‘Are you sure she’s not talking about you?’ I ask. ‘Your injury? And maybe … about us? Your emotions must be …’ I trail off, not sure how to complete the sentence.
For what feels like the first time in moons, he meets my eyes and gives me a rueful smile before rubbing a hand over his face. ‘Yeah. I’m …’ He sighs. ‘But no.’ The shake of his head is far more definitive than I expected.
‘No. Trust me, she’s not happy about this.’ He gestures to me and then points to Benny. ‘But this is definitely different. I’ve asked her whose pain it is, but it’s like she’s blocking me out. I don’t know how to get through to her.’ There’s not just worry in his voice. There’s fear.
Fear that she might leave him? Surely not. I don’t even know if that’s possible. I always thought dire wolves bonded for life. ‘Has she done anything like this before? Acted like this before?’ I ask him. ‘No.’ Again, Kyor replies with the same level of certainty. ‘Never.’ So much for wanting to help her. If she won’t even tell Kyor what’s going on, there’s no chance she’s going to tell me. ‘Does she want to look for this friend in pain?’ I ask. ‘Does she want us to look for them?’ I don’t want to do anything to delay this trip. Just the thought of it is enough to fill my mind with images of William’s body. How much will the icy pattern have spread since my vision? Has he let Kay know? I’m sure if Jonas knew just how bad it was, he’d refuse to let him go out in public for fear of it being seen, but William probably knows that too and has likely kept it to himself for that exact reason.
I need to get to the Issen, but Elska is not in the best frame of mind, which could slow us down a lot more. Or worse, put us at risk if she’s too distracted to hear a threat coming.
Kyor licks his lips and admits, ‘She’s not responding to me.’ His eyes meet mine, and his anguish strikes me. Elska is the only one in his life who’s never let him down. If something happens between the two of them now, it might just be the nail in the coffin for Kyor.
Any hope of him ever forming a relationship – ever loving again – would be gone.
Trying to disguise the anxiety that filters through me, I reach out and take his hand, half expecting him to pull away. ‘I’m sorry.’ A pause drifts between us, and he lets me hold his hand for a few moments before he withdraws, physically and emotionally. His face is blank once more, devoid of the agony he allowed me to see only moments ago. ‘Thank you,’ he says brusquely.
He let me touch him – let me offer comfort, if only for a moment. It’s something.
I nod and leave him to get ready for bed.
NONE OF US SLEEP WELL, except Loch with his modified earplugs. Elska’s constant pacing is beyond unsettling. Every whine causes a shudder to ripple down my spine, and I know I’m not alone.
Benny’s body is so tense I’m sure he’s contemplated the same thought I had earlier: just because Kyor didn’t murder him in Galreck, it doesn’t mean the wolf isn’t going to rip his throat out at some point.
That thought doesn’t help me sleep either. If she does decide that killing Benny is going to go some way to easing this pain she’s under, I need to be awake to stop that from happening.
At some point in the night, after a couple of hours of restless tossing, my ears tune into Ruben’s voice. ‘Let me take watch, buddy. You need some sleep.’ Confusion flickers in my drowsy state. I thought Benny had already taken his shift, and I can’t imagine who else Ruben would refer to like that.
But then the second voice replies sharply, ‘One, you and I aren’t buddies, and two, I’m fine.’ The brittleness in Kyor’s voice would be enough to make anyone slink back, and yet I’m not in the slightest bit surprised when Ruben stands his ground. ‘One, maybe not right now, but we will be. And two, you’re not fine.
You’re in pain, and you’re exhausted. If you don’t rest, you’re not going to
help any of us. Not Rose. Not Elska.’ Kyor grunts, but he doesn’t respond. ‘Just half an hour,’ Ruben presses. ‘If you’re not asleep, then you can take the watch back.’ Another pause follows before a low grunt rattles through the quiet. ‘Fine, thirty minutes.’
WHEN THE WEAK, filtered morning light reaches us through the canopy, I stretch out, feeling even less rested than I did before I went to sleep. I can’t have got more than a couple of hours at best. Yet as I roll over, a deep wave
of gratitude floods through me. Kyor is there, asleep by the fire, and Ruben is rubbing his eyes as he remains in watch position.
Thank you, I mouth to him, only for him to shrug like it’s nothing. But it’s not nothing. Not to me and not to Kyor either. I know the prince well enough for that. ‘We should stick by the river,’ Thessa says as we pack our belongings and mount the horses. ‘Oh now you’re giving us directions,’ Caz teases.
Thessa laughs, and I realise it’s the first time I’ve heard her make such a sound. I could have easily believed that Sanrott didn’t just take their magic from them, but also their ability for joy. Caz catches my gaze, and the glimmer in her eyes is enough to warm my heart. ‘Not directions,’ Thessa continues, ‘but if the tide is good, we’ll be able to fish in the river.’ At Thessa’s behest, we point our horses towards the wide river. I have no idea what counts as a ‘good’ tide, but what we find is a fairly low level of water, little more than hip deep, and Thessa seems pleased.
The water is clear and we can see the rocky riverbed below.
Although it’s barely been an hour since we started up, we drop from our horses and tether them to nearby trees, ready to follow the Sannings’ instructions. ‘So … how did you say we do this?’ Caz asks Thessa with more than a hint of excitement in her voice. ‘You need us all in the water, right?’ ‘Yes. The cold will hurt, but it’ll be worth it. But only step on the rocks, you hear? Only rocks. If you step into the mud —’ A wave of fear and panic hits me so hard that it steals the air from my lungs. ‘The Rose?’ Stide speaks behind me, but her voice barely registers.
I need to flee. I need to leave here. I have to get out, but I can’t. I can’t.
This is my end. The miserable thought rattles over and over in my head.
This is my end. Stuck here. ‘Rose.’ The shake on my arm is just like the one that pulls me from my nightmares, and yet this time it has no effect.
Because this isn’t a nightmare.
These feelings, that inability to escape … I’ve felt something remarkably like it before.
With the kraken in the fourth trial.
The fear is so overwhelming that it threatens to consume me entirely. But whose fear? The feeling surges again, and my knees buckle, but Kyor’s there,
catching me before I can fall. ‘Rose?’ he asks. ‘Rose, what is it?’ ‘He’s so afraid,’ I blurt, and I’m shocked to feel tears slip from my eyes. ‘He doesn’t want to die.’ And he is a he. I know it, though I have no idea how I know it. ‘Who?’ Kyor asks. ‘Who’s doing this to you?’ I shake my head and dash the tears streaming from my eyes. This isn’t his fault. He doesn’t want this. He doesn’t want to die.
Forcing myself to my feet, my gaze drifts upriver. And I’m not alone.
Both Elska and Loch are frozen, their attention fixed on the same point.
With the rest of the group stopped by my panic, they follow the direction of our gazes. ‘Is that …’ Benny whispers, his sight picking out what’s there before the others can. ‘By all the Gods,’ Kyor murmurs back, his voice trembling in shock and horror. Without a word or a glance in my direction, he releases me from his grip, and before I can utter another word, he and Elska are sprinting, an unexpected name on his disbelieving lips. ‘Fen!’
