Chapter 11 Lena
ELEVEN
LENA
It was only when they reached the edge of a small forest that Lena truly felt like she could breathe again.
It was nothing like the vast forests in the Wilds, but compared to the bustle of Deyecia and the eerie, almost-haunting atmosphere of the abandoned village they’d passed just after dawn, it was a haven.
Lena stopped to breathe in the scents of earth and pine, still strong even with many of the trees having lost their leaves.
“There’s nothing quite like it, is there?” Casimir said from beside her. He closed his eyes, tilting his face up toward the slowly rising sun.
They’d spent most of the night walking in silence, the memory of what had happened just before they’d left the city still lingering between them. Thankfully, the smuggler hadn’t brought it up again, and Lena had been more than happy to pretend it hadn’t happened at all.
Out here, away from the shadows and grime of Deyecia, the freckles across his nose were even starker, and Lena found herself trying not to stare at them as she replied, “I didn’t take you for a nature lover.”
Casimir’s lips turned up into the ghost of a smile.
“Most Verlondians are. The lands surrounding the capital are filled with forests lusher than you can even imagine.” There was a thickness to his voice, one Lena knew well.
It was the same way her voice sounded on the rare occasions she spoke of her mother.
“You miss it.” It wasn’t a question.
Casimir made a low mmm sound in his throat but otherwise stayed silent.
“Why don’t you go back?” She shouldn’t have spoken her thoughts out loud. Asking questions would only invite him to ask his own. Questions Lena couldn’t give him answers to.
He stared at the forest for a moment longer before turning to face her, the smirk she was so used to seeing him wear tugging once more at his lips. “Because fine heretics such as yourself would be lost without me.”
Lena rolled her eyes even as her own lips twitched in response. “Yes, your absence would truly be a loss to this empire.”
“I’m glad you agree.”
They shared a look, one that made Lena’s stomach flip in what she told herself was simply amusement. The ease she felt around him was too close to how she’d felt with Finaen, and Lena knew how easy it could be to give in to such a feeling, to use it as a way of forgetting one’s pain.
Because that’s all this was, she told herself. She was only drawn to the smuggler’s easy smiles and pretty eyes because they helped her to forget.
Careful, her own mind warned. With the secret of her bōda’s abilities hanging over her, letting people in had always been foolish. Doing so now would be downright stupid.
Filled with a sudden need to put space between them, Lena started toward the tree line with a quick, “We should keep moving.”
Casimir caught up to her easily, keeping more than a few inches of space between them, and Lena couldn’t help but wonder if it was coincidental or if he was giving her the distance she craved.
They walked that way in silence for a short while before Casimir announced, “As much as I am loath to interrupt this peaceful silence, I thought you might like to know you’re going the wrong way.”
Lena’s steps faltered, her jaw clenched. She’d been so stuck in her own thoughts that she’d been walking on instinct. “I’m going south,” she said, a little too defensively.
“Mmm, yes, but the forest grows too dense about halfway in.” He gestured east, and the grin on his face made her want to scream. “So unless you want to get into a fight with a bunch of thorns and brambles, I suggest we go this way.”
Lena bit down on the inside of her cheek as a dozen vulgar remarks went through her head. You’re paying him to get you out of here, Lenora, she told herself. Suck it up.
With a sigh, Lena said, “Fine. Lead the way.”
There was still enough waning daylight left to allow them to navigate the overgrown roots and branches with relative ease, and although the frustration of following someone else’s lead in a forest nagged at Lena, it was still highly preferable to being in Deyecia’s busy streets.
This wasn’t one of her forests, but the reaching, barren trees and the frozen mud beneath her feet still filled her with the same comfort she always felt whenever she was in the forests of the Wilds.
“It’s been a while since I’ve taken this route,” the smuggler said, slowing until she was walking beside him.
The path had grown narrow enough that their arms brushed together, and Lena tried not to think too much about how she didn’t dislike the sensation as Casimir continued talking.
“I think we should be out of these trees before it gets too dark. We’re making good time.
We should think about resting up for the night, recovering our strength for the final stretch before we reach the mountains. ”
As much as Lena wanted to keep going, she had to admit a rest was a good idea.
The longer they walked, the harder it was becoming to fight off the presence of Casimir’s threads.
They would glimmer around him whenever she felt her exhaustion taking over, and when they did, Lena heard the faint whisper of that ancient voice, eager to be let in.
So far, she’d managed to keep it at bay, but if she didn’t rest …
“Alright,” Lena agreed. “Although it doesn’t look like there’s much in the way of cover out here …” They were surrounded by open, snow-covered plains.
“There’s a small trader’s hut a few miles southeast of here. I haven’t visited in a while, but the owner is a friend. She’ll put us up.”
“No.” Lena didn’t want to be around another person right now. Ignoring Casimir’s threads was hard enough. “There’s got to be a cavern or another patch of trees around here somewhere—”
“—Not close enough for us to reach before sunset,” interjected Casimir.
“And I don’t know about you, but I’m about ready to collapse.
” He paused, eyeing her expression. “Look, Silah has taken my clients and me in before. She’s got a small outbuilding we can stay in.
You can wait in there whilst I talk to her. ”
How did he always seem to sense what was bothering her? It was unnerving, to feel so … seen.
She was about to protest again when the faint outline of his threads appeared around him. Sucking in a breath, Lena asked, “You trust her?”
“I do.” There was no hesitation in the smuggler’s voice. No inclination in his expression or body language that he was lying to her. His threads flared brighter, and it took everything Lena had to will the magic roiling inside of her to stay dormant.
Exhausted, Lena said, “Lead the way.”
The trader’s home was in complete darkness.
The sky had turned from dusky gray to charcoal black in the time it had taken Lena and Casimir to reach the two small wooden huts tucked away behind a snow-covered mound.
As far as Lena could see, they were the only two buildings out here, but given how close they were to the Frozen Wastes, that wasn’t much of a surprise.
Already the snow was falling heavily enough to obscure Lena’s view of their surroundings, and her thick woolen coat and the fur around her neck were doing little to keep her warm.
Beside her, Casimir was shivering beneath his own leathers.
The air before him turned foggy with his breath as he gestured to the wooden outbuilding he’d mentioned earlier and said, “Go and get settled. I’ll join you once I’ve spoken to Silah. ”
Ever since Casimir had mentioned his friend, Lena had been determined to have as little to do with her as possible, but now that they were here, doubt was starting to creep in.
If he was going to turn you in, he would have done it back in Deyecia.
There would be no point in bringing her all the way out here just to turn on her; there were no imperial outposts around for miles. Pushing down her paranoia, Lena forced herself to nod before heading in the direction of the smaller hut.
She was halfway there when the mark on her wrist pained again, stopping her in her tracks.
Ice spread through her veins as the power tried to break free, to seek out the nearest set of threads and twist them to its will.
Lena gritted her teeth, bracing herself for the warmth of Casimir’s threads to blaze into her awareness.
Instead, a flood of ice-cold filled her veins, as if she’d just fallen into the depths of a frozen lake.
Something was wrong.
Lena turned toward the source of the feeling, toward the hut Casimir had just entered, just as she heard him shout, “NO!”
The terror in his voice had Lena darting toward the hut before reason could stop her.
Bow drawn, she flew toward the now-open door of the trader’s home, ignoring the pounding in her head and the power steadily rising inside of her.
She expected to find Casimir locked in a struggle with a hunter or one of the korupted, like Maia had been, and so when she entered the ransacked room and saw him crouching over the bloodied body of a girl, all she could do was freeze.
“I’m so sorry,” Casimir was mumbling, his head bowed toward the girl. “This is all my fault. I shouldn’t—”
“Cas.” The girl’s voice was too wet. “Stop. It isn’t …”
She began coughing before she could finish. Blood bubbled on her lips to drip down her chin, a steady stream that made Lena want to heave. And slowly, like candles snuffing out one by one, the web of silver threads hovering around her began to darken.
The coldness inside of Lena was worse now.
Her skin was covered in goose bumps, and the mark on her wrist throbbed with a pain so fierce she thought she might be sick.
She could feel the Fateweaver’s power in her chest, fighting to be let free.
And as it did, a single, awful thought went through Lena’s mind.
I could save her.
A low chuckle echoed in response. In all of the chaos, Lena had let her concentration slip, and now the ancient voice inside of her whispered, She is too far gone. Our power is not enough to save her. Not whilst the bond exists.
The bond. The one between her and the prince.
“Silah, keep your eyes open! Silah!”
Time seemed to have slowed whilst Lena was focusing on the girl’s threads, in the same way it had done back in the forest outside of Forvyrg. Except now everything seemed to be happening all at once. Casimir was shaking the bloodied girl’s shoulders, unaware of the fading threads above her.
Determination flooded through Lena at the sight. She might not have been able to save the girl as the empire’s Fateweaver, but she could still try to save her as Lena.
She was beside Casimir in an instant, scanning the woman’s body for injuries, but she was so covered in blood it was almost impossible to tell where it was coming from.
“Silah, I need you to tell me where you’re hurt.
” The woman groaned, her eyes fluttering, her mouth trying desperately to form the words.
But all that came out was another wet, rasping cough.
Lena was no healer. She could mend minor injuries, but this …
Silah shuddered once more, her threads dimming. And then, with one final sigh, the trader went still.
“No, no, Silah!” Casimir shook her, his own gloved hands now covered in his friend’s blood. “Dammit, Silah, wake up!”
Lena’s throat felt too tight. “She’s gone, Casimir. I’m sorry.” They couldn’t stay here. Not when whoever had killed Silah might still be close by. “We need to—”
Lena’s words cut off as another sharp stab of pain radiated from her mark. But it wasn’t the pain that had silenced her. No, it was the violent reappearance of Silah’s threads. Of the shadows woven around them. Lena had seen threads like this before, back in Forvyrg.
Back when she’d come face-to-face with the korupted.
Dread pooling in her stomach, Lena forced herself to look down at the trader’s face.
And at the now-open eyes staring straight at her.