Chapter 55
he camp falls quiet when I walk in. Whatever they were discussing, I was clearly at the heart of it. So much for subtlety.T ‘So,’ Benny says baldly, ‘how about this weather we’re having?’ Caz cracks a smile.
Ruben ignores Benny, his attention solely on me. ‘You okay?’ he whispers. ‘Do I need to beat him up?’ he adds with a nod towards Kyor.
A sad chuckle rises from me. That Ruben still thinks he could manage to beat up Kyor is adorably delusional. Although, maybe with Kyor’s busted shoulder it would be a far more even match than the prince would like. ‘I’m good,’ I tell Ruben. ‘Just a lot to unpack, that’s all.’ He nods in understanding.
A few minutes later, Ruben moves towards the tree line when Fen appears, half-carrying and half-dragging a deer carcass behind him. ‘Any chance you want to help me with this one, Ben?’ Ruben asks. ‘I don’t know. Any chance you want to offer me goodnight hugs as well as morning ones?’ Ruben rolls his eyes. ‘You know, you repeatedly asking that comes across
as desperate.’ ‘And?’ Laughter crackles from Ruben as Benny pulls himself onto his feet and ambles across to him. As the wolf drops the carcass, I reach out to him, still feeling acutely embarrassed about the whole thing. Warn me next time you’re going to get frisky with Elska.
You have no door for me to hang a sock upon, he shrugs. That’s what I
did with Zelle.
The visual of the huge wolf delicately hanging a sock on a door handle is enough to make me snicker.
Happiness and contentment wash over me. Fen’s, not mine.
It’s nice. One of us should be happy at least.
Any remaining irritation I may have had with him fades away, but sensing it probably requires another conversation to clear the air, I head over to Kyor. ‘So that’s another new thing for me to get used to,’ I say. ‘Mating wolves.’ ‘Yeah, I guess it’s harder to tell when … well …’ When we want to rip off one another’s clothes anyway? I’m pretty sure that’s what he was going to say, so I nod in agreement, not trusting myself to give any more of an answer. ‘Well, I told Fen to warn me next time, and he told me he used to hang a sock on Zelle’s door.’ As I chuckle once again at the absurdity of the remark, I expect him to do the same, but instead his brows pinch. ‘What do you mean, he told you?’ He frowns.
I blink. ‘He just, you know, told me. Spoke to me. In my mind. Like Elska can do with you?’ Kyor shakes his head slowly. ‘Rose, I told you. It doesn’t work like that.
Elska and I communicate with images, feelings. Not actual words.’ He looks at me wide-eyed. ‘You can speak … with words … to Fen?’ I baulk. ‘Could Zelle not?’ He blows out a breath. ‘Fuck. No. No one can.’ The worry in his eyes deepens. ‘This has to be linked with your Torailian heritage. Rose, I don’t know if you should be sharing this with anyone. All these powers… I worry about people knowing.’ ‘Except those in the circle of trust,’ Loch says loudly, gesturing to the group. ‘You can share anything with us. We’re your circle. Lucky Rose to have a circle. Rings within rings, just like Wrohelm. We will need them when he’s free.’ The last thing I can deal with at this moment is Loch’s babbling, not when I need answers. Still, I send him a warm smile for his support – as odd as it is – before I block out his continued mumbles and reach out to Fen. Why didn’t you tell me it was weird that we could talk?
You did not ask, he sniffs back.
Why would I? I didn’t realise I was different. Again!
Different is not bad. I do not feel talking with you is a bad thing. I am pleased by our development.
A warm female mind touches mine. He really is. He wouldn’t stop going on about it. Rose and I this. Rose and I that. He’s very proud of you. It’s adorable. Almost as cute as when he ripped into those Torailians.
A gasp shoots uncontrollably from me. Elska!
Yes?
Why can I hear you? Can you speak to Kyor now?
No. Regret tinges her voice. And as for why, I do not know, but it seems only fair that my mate is not the only one to have such fun.
I gape at Kyor’s wolf. ‘You’re speaking to her.’ There’s no jealousy in Kyor’s voice, just wonder. ‘You spoke to her, with words? And you can tell her things? Like how much …’ He falters. ‘Like how much I love her.’ A gruff laugh resonates from Elska. There’s no need to tell me what he asked of you. I can feel it with him. I can always feel it within.
I’m sure he knows that, I reply, but he wanted me to tell you he loves you all the same.
I have loved him from the first kick to the commander’s shins, she relays back. Perhaps longer still.
I turn back to Kyor, still struggling to believe that it is not my mind playing tricks on me. ‘She says she loved you from the first kick to the commander’s shins,’ I tell him. ‘Perhaps longer still.’ His jaw is slack. ‘It was terrible fighting. Dirty. Scrappy. But I refused to
let Zelle win. And she remembers that?’ ‘Apparently so.’ ‘Fuck.’ His attention is no longer on me as he strides over to Elska, throws his arms around her – mindful of his injured shoulder – and murmurs something I’m careful not to hear. My eyes feel hot at the sweetness of their emotional moment, and I’m absurdly pleased that I helped facilitate it. The Gods know, Kyor’s had precious little love in his life. He deserves more.
Benny rubs his chin. ‘Important question. Can you ask them if they’re judging us? Because I don’t like the idea of being silently peer-reviewed by apex predators.’ ‘Oh we’re all judging you, Ben,’ Ruben says coyly. ‘Every one of us.’
‘Yeah, but you’re not exactly a predator are you?’ Benny shrugs.
Ruben pauses mid-gutting the deer, raising a bloody knife. ‘You really want to say that to a man with a blade in his hand?’ ‘Depends. Will you tend to my wounds after you injure me? I could manage a couple of stitches, depending on where they are of course.’ ‘You never give up, do you?’ Ruben laughs.
As the boys continue their easy flirting, Caz, Thessa, and Stide sit close to the fire, its flames snapping softly as sparks curl into the night air.
I’m looking at the group when suddenly I frown. Something is wrong with Stide. Even in the firelight, she looks drawn, her skin too pale, a faint sheen of sweat clinging to her brow.
She is wrapped in her cloak, yet her shoulders hunch as though the
warmth cannot quite reach her. ‘Stide, you okay?’ As I move across to talk to her, she lifts her head slowly, as if the effort costs her. Her eyes are glassy, unfocused, and when she speaks, her voice
lacks its usual strength. ‘The Rose. I feel … cold.’ The word jars. The air is freezing – it’s almost certainly the coldest night we have encountered so far – but she is layered thoroughly and the fire is blazing.
Yet she still shivers, teeth catching faintly as another tremor runs through her.
And it’s not just the shiver. Now that I’m paying attention to her, it’s clear that she’s swaying slightly, sweat beading on her brow as she blinks repeatedly.
Almost as though she is struggling to focus, as if the world will not stay still. The heat of the flames paints her in gold and shadow, but it only seems to emphasise how wrong she looks. Feverish. Fragile. And very much not herself. Stide is indomitable. Not frail, never that. ‘Hey.’ I walk over and touch her forehead, only to snatch my hand straight off her. ‘Oof. That’s a wicked fever you’ve got. Let me get you something to lower it.’ I scramble around my saddlebags to find a potion I had the forethought to take from Mother’s supplies. Fevers go hand in hand with infections, so it seemed like an essential tonic to carry with me. ‘How long have you been feeling like this?’ I ask as I pour out a spoonful
of the tincture. ‘A little while,’ she responds vaguely. ‘Well, tell me if you’re not feeling any better in an hour or so. If this doesn’t work, we’ll need to try something different.’ Her teeth are fully chattering now, but she manages a small nod as she pulls her red cloak even tighter around her.
As I move away to rinse the spoon, Thessa speaks to her fellow Sanning. ‘Why didn’t you say you were feeling unwell?’ ‘You were talking to Caroline. I did not wish to interrupt.’ A warmth flurries within me. Stide has never come across as the most amiable of travelling companions, but there is no doubt she has been of help to us on this trip, especially when it came to the vätte.
It’s equally clear that she feels deep affection for Thessa, always guarding her, always fetching her food.
I’ve often wondered what the relationship between the two of them is, as Stide seems completely aware that there’s something going on between Caz and Thessa. Though how she feels about that, I’m not quite sure.
Thessa’s brow crinkles. ‘I always have time for you, Stide. Always. Next
time, tell me.’ ‘As you wish.’ As the pair shift a little closer together, Caz shuffles awkwardly.
Leaving them to their own dynamics, I take the tonic back to my bag, only for my eyes to catch Benny’s en route. A smirk flickers on his lips as he makes the symbol of the triangle with his fingers, and for once, it raises the
tiniest of chuckles in me.
Ruben is quick to thump him on the arm.
Benny winces. ‘What was that for?’ ‘You know what it was for,’ Ruben replies. ‘Because you can’t keep your hands off me, but aren’t ready to admit this insane attraction between us?’ Benny offers, quirking his lips into his ineffably charming grin.
With a roll of his eyes, Ruben looks at me. ‘How exactly did you end up being friends with him?’ he asks. ‘Slim pickings,’ I reply, although my attention is already back on the women in the group.
I never once saw anything between Thessa and Stide that made me think they were anything other than good friends, but then again, I know how easy
it is for that line of friendship to blur, as I suspect it may be beginning to blur between Benny and Ruben. The jovial flirting could be nothing more than harmless teasing, but I’ve spied a few speculative, lingering glances on both their parts.
As the deer meat roasts on the fire, Stide’s temperature holds fast, but I maintain hope that it will start to drop after we’ve eaten.
When it doesn’t, I give her another spoonful of the tonic, but it’s hard to ignore the niggling in my gut. The first spoonful should have done something by now, but she’s still burning up as much as before. ‘Sleep will help, won’t it?’ Thessa asks, fear and hope mingling in her voice. ‘I’ll check on her through the night,’ I answer, not ready to make promises I can’t keep.
As I go to slink away, Stide’s eyes flicker up to Thessa. ‘If I were half the woman you are,’ she says lightly, forcing a smile, ‘I’d be unstoppable.’ ‘Oh hush.’ Thessa’s smile does little to mask the worry that fills her eyes. ‘You’ll be fine. You’re always fine. You’re as unstoppable as the sun.’ Stide smiles. ‘You have always been my dawn.’ ‘It’s too late,’ Loch mutters. ‘Too late. With magic, without magic.
Doesn’t matter. It’s too late.’ ‘What’s too late?’ I ask Loch. I swallow hard and drop my voice to a whisper. ‘Is Mortidem close?’ There was a woman in the slums whose magic, people said, was to hear the whisper of Mortidem encroaching. I don’t know if it was true or not, but something tells me that if his footsteps make any sound at all, Loch would hear them. ‘Life and death. We worry about the wrong ones, don’t we? Gods. Gods.
Gods. They know. They know which to fear.’ He taps his head knowingly, and goosebumps rise upon my arms, but I try to push them down. It’s the rambling of a madman, nothing more.
Loch’s delusions are growing worse, not better.
Benny clearly feels the same, for he shoots me a worried look and wraps an arm around Loch’s shoulders. ‘Come on, let’s settle you down over here.
Nice and near the fire.’
‘It’s warm. It’s warm by the fire.’ ‘I know, buddy. I know.’ Stide isn’t the only one we’ll worry about tonight.
The fire crackles low, throwing thin light across the camp, and the darkness beyond it feels thicker than it should. Whether it’s Loch’s words or something else, dread curls slowly in my stomach.
Sleep takes a long time to come.
And when it finally does, it is shallow and uneasy, as though some part of me is still listening for death’s footsteps in the dark.
THROUGH THE NIGHT, I give Stide spoonful after spoonful of tincture, yet nothing seems to be helping. The quantity I’ve given her is enough to dull the fevers of a dozen people, and my only hope is that perhaps it’s not as potent as I thought. That perhaps the magic waned after all that time stuck in my mother’s cupboard.
Yet I know in my heart that I felt the power within it.
Something is wrong and it’s not the potency of the tonic.
When I take my turn on watch, it’s hard to keep my eyes trained on our surroundings. I want to linger over Stide and Loch and ignore the hopelessness taking hold inside me.
The morning brings no relief. Though Stide tosses and turns beneath her blanket, she doesn’t awaken with the rest of us. ‘We can get everything packed up first,’ Ruben says, already tending to the horses. ‘She clearly needs the rest. We’ll wake her when we’re ready to go.’ None of us disagree, but I feel the unspoken thought whirring between us.
He’s right. Sickness so often needs rest, but we have no time for it. We’re still another two days from the base of the Coltan Mountains, which mark the edge of the Issen territory, and the weather is likely to get worse and worse.
Moving too slowly will get us killed in this cold. We must keep warm or keep moving – those are our only choices.
And the thought of further delay chafes at me. I cannot stop picturing the lacy ice pattern on William’s skin.
When all are ready, Thessa and I make our way over to wake the Sanning. Her tossing has lessened, and she is curled on her side, head buried beneath the blanket. How she withstood the heat from the fever that burned her up in the night is a mystery.
As I wait with the last of the ineffectual tonic, Thessa gives Stide a gentle shake, and then a firmer one. ‘Stide,’ she calls softly. ‘It’s time to get up.’ She shakes her again, this time pulling her slightly so that the blanket falls away. As her face is revealed, we lurch back. ‘No …’ Thessa’s voice is a whisper – heartbreak on a breath.
Tears sting my eyes as Stide struggles to sit, exposing more and more mottled green skin. ‘Thessa?’ Stide asks. So many questions hang in her single word, but as my heart lodges in my throat, I know I am not going to be the one to answer any of them. ‘Your skin,’ Thessa tries, as tears begin to stream down her face. ‘You’re … you’re turning.’ Stide’s eyes fall shut. ‘It was such a small scratch. I hoped … I hoped …’ As she trails off, Thessa leans tentatively forward, tugging open the layers of her clothes. As Stide’s left arm falls free, we see that the mottled skin there is darker still, no sign of life left within it. Nothing but the green veins of the Rottings. And at the centre, a tiny mark, less than a fingernail’s width in length. That is all it took.
Caz appears behind us, stifling a cry at the sight of the green-webbed death sentence. ‘Thessa. What do we do?’ I ask, my voice determined. The Sannings have far greater experience with the Rottings than we do. They must know what can be done. The infection is not complete yet. It cannot be, not if she can still speak, and still move without lurching towards us. ‘How do we stop it?’ I press. ‘Halt its progression?’ The Sanning offers no reply beyond her sobbing, which grows more ragged as her chest heaves in desperate breaths that bring no relief, no matter how deeply she inhales. ‘We do not,’ Stide says simply. ‘It cannot be halted, The Rose.’ I can feel the others gathering around us now. Silent sentinels, watching and waiting for a verdict that none of us wants to accept, even if Stide herself is willing to admit the truth. ‘There is only one way this process goes,’ Kyor confirms softly. ‘Stide knows it. We all know it.’ ‘No,’ Caz mumbles, wiping the tears as they roll down her cheek. ‘No.’ ‘She cannot be rotting,’ Thessa sobs softly. ‘She cannot. It’s wrong!’ The
words fracture as they leave her mouth.
It is wrong. None of us bother to deny it. All of this is so very, very wrong. And yet, here we are.
Continuing to shiver through the fever, Stide lifts her gaze to Kyor. If she feels fear, I cannot see it on her face. ‘A bolt to the heart will be quick and painless. If you would, wolf man?’ ‘No!’ Thessa cries before Kyor can answer. The word tears out of her, raw and ragged, as she drops to her knees beside Stide, clutching her hand as though she can anchor her to this world by sheer force of will. ‘Lightning will hurt. I will not have your last moments be in pain.’ Her bottom lip trembles violently. ‘I won’t have it.’ Stide’s gaze softens as it shifts to Thessa. There is so much in that look, and my heart aches for them both. I’ve seen it before, in Llinos’s eyes as she gazed at Caz right at the end. Gratitude. Love. Regret. The things never said. ‘How you still hate to see hurt,’ Stide murmurs gently. ‘Even though it is everywhere. When will you learn? Pain is an essential part of life. It teaches us lessons we should not ignore.’ Thessa lets out a broken sound, halfway between a laugh and a sob. ‘You’re impossible,’ she whispers. ‘Even now.’ A wraith-like smile flickers on Stide’s lips before it fades. Her eyes darken. ‘Help me. Let me reach Mortidem before it is too late. Before I become something that would hurt you.’ We wait in silence, knowing it is not our place to speak. Not our place to offer empty words of reassurance to a woman whose life has been forfeited because she chose to walk this path with us, chose to help fight the monster that wanted us because she knew we needed to survive.
As the air holds still, Thessa bows her head, her shoulders shaking. A flurry of self-loathing strikes me. I was worried that Stide’s sickness would slow us down, would endanger us and delay my reaching the Issen. What I would give to take those thoughts back. I would go as slowly as we needed to keep that mottled green of the Rottings from claiming her. But such wishes are futile.
When Thessa finally looks up, her eyes are red-rimmed and resolute, the agonising decision carved into her face. ‘I won’t let you become a Rotting,’ she promises hoarsely. ‘I swear it.’ She goes to her pack and returns moments later with a drawstring bag.
Her fingers tremble as she fumbles with the string.
Finally she opens it, and she hesitates only a second before drawing out a small vial, the liquid inside dark and still. It reminds me of a similar potion I made once – hemlock that I distilled for a similarly deadly purpose. ‘It’s fast,’ Thessa whispers, as though confessing a secret. ‘I’ve carried it for emergencies. For mercy.’ Her voice breaks. ‘I never thought …’ She cannot finish the sentence. She doesn’t need to.
Stide’s lips curve into a faint, grateful smile. ‘You’re prepared,’ she says softly. ‘Always prepared. I love that about you.’ She smiles even as she shakes, her teeth chattering. ‘And I love so much about you, Thessa Rok. I hope you know that. You’re my dawn. For me, it has always been you. It always will be you.’ Thessa chokes, pressing her forehead briefly to Stide’s hand before she straightens, wiping her tears with the heel of her palm. ‘I love you too, my very dearest friend.’ Stide smiles. ‘Thank you. Now do it. Do it before it is too late to save my soul.’ ‘I won’t leave you,’ Thessa promises, forcing steadiness into her voice. ‘Not for a moment.’ Thessa uncorks the vial with shaking hands and brings it to Stide’s lips.
Her strength is seeping from her body, and yet the Quiet One swallows without hesitation, her gaze never leaving Thessa’s face. Almost instantly, it seems as though her chest becomes thick and heavy, her breathing laboured, and now pain rises in me. It is too much. Too similar to Llinos’s last moments, and I know I am not alone in feeling it.
Wordlessly, I fumble my way to Caz and lace my fingers through hers, feeling her pain in the force of her grip. Another friend lost before our eyes.
Another casualty that will be added to the litany of scars that mar my heart. ‘Find happiness, my Thessa,’ Stide whispers, her gaze sliding to us and lingering on Caz, who sobs with hurt past and present.
Benny’s arm wraps around her as his own eyes glisten with unshed tears, his other hand gripping Ruben’s.
Pain swells in the air as Thessa leans down, pressing her forehead to Stide’s. The vial slips from her fingers. ‘I love you, my friend,’ Thessa repeats. ‘I’ll miss you so much. You know that, don’t you? You know how much I’ll miss you? I’ll miss you forever.’
But no answer comes from the Quiet One.
No sound will ever come from her again.
She’s gone.
