Chapter Twenty-Six
Finnvid struggled, even with the snow flats. Theos was heavy, and Finnvid hadn’t slept the night before, and—and it was impossible to forget what he was doing. He was running away from his valley, his home. His family.
When he’d left the night before, it had felt temporary.
He was taking a trip, that was all. Eventually he’d go home and grovel a little and be forgiven.
But he wasn’t sure he could do that, not anymore.
With the number of men following him into the mountains, people would know he’d helped Theos escape.
It couldn’t all be hushed up, not with hundreds of witnesses.
It was treason, he supposed. Strange to think of it that way, when his motives were so pure. He wanted Elkat to survive, and he didn’t think an alliance with the warlord was a good way to ensure that outcome. It seemed right that he was taking action.
But it was action against the wishes of the king. And who was Finnvid, to question his brother’s decision? A dilettante, a child, interfering in matters far beyond his ken. An idiot.
He trudged on through the snow, and looked down at the man dozing on the stretcher.
Even in his sleep, Theos tended to frown, and the determined grumpiness should have made Finnvid impatient and frustrated with him.
It shouldn’t have made Finnvid want to reach down and smooth the tension from the man’s face.
It shouldn’t have made him daydream about waking up next to him and kissing him into one of his sweet smiles.
Finnvid had left home for Theos. He’d like to deny it, even to himself, but there was no use.
He thought he was doing the right thing, trying to ensure that the Sacrati took their revenge at home rather than in Elkat, but that wasn’t what had made him race through the castle, throwing winter survival gear into his pack before stopping by his brother’s office and snatching the letter as an afterthought. A justification.
He’d abandoned his family and betrayed his king for the man lying on the stretcher in front of him. The man frowning in his sleep, as if even his dreams couldn’t live up to his impossible standards.
The tension was boiling within him, frothing and fighting toward the surface. If the emotions escaped, Finnvid wasn’t sure what he’d do. Drop his end of the stretcher, probably, and launch himself on Theos’s falling body. But would he attack the man with punches, or kisses? Anger, or love?
Andros stopped moving, and Finnvid stumbled as he tried to recover his balance.
Theos’s eyes opened with a blurry complaint, then drifted closed again.
“Set him down,” Andros ordered, and Finnvid did as he was told.
He hadn’t realized how long they’d been walking until he tried to move his arms and found that his shoulders had cramped into position.
He shrugged cautiously and bent his head back, letting the cold snow fall on his effort-warmed face.
It was snowing. That should mean something, he remembered. He squinted at Andros, who was watching the sky intently. Then the Sacrati turned to Finnvid and said, “You need to decide. Commit. It’s not too late for you to go home, but if you try to leave after this . . . I’ll have to stop you.”
Friendly, easy-going Andros was gone. The man in front of him was assessing him like a potential enemy, and it chilled Finnvid more completely than the wind ever had.
“I can’t go back,” Finnvid said. “I don’t think I can. They’ll consider me a traitor.”
“You can tell them you were kidnapped. Tell them you saw one of us taking the letter and chased after us, and we grabbed you. Torians are cruel, and you were afraid.”
It might work. He could make it work. Finnvid felt his panic starting to subside. He wasn’t trapped. This wasn’t all beyond his control. And that was enough. “I’ll stay. I’m committed.”
Andros waited for a moment, then nodded and smiled. “Good. Grab your end and be ready for some tricky ground—we’re leaving the trail.”
“We are?”
But Andros was already crouched by his end of the stretcher, so Finnvid forced himself to bend and grasp his own handles. His body complained as they stood, but he made himself ignore it.
As promised, Andros turned almost at a right angle and started into the pine forest. He seemed to be picking out a path of sorts, but everything was rougher and harder going, and several times they had to backtrack when they hit an impenetrable spot.
Finnvid didn’t ask questions; he just focused on the task at hand. He’d told Andros he was committed, and now was the time to prove it.
Finally, Andros stopped and grunted, “Put him down.”
Finnvid was only too happy to comply, and they both stood for a moment, stretching their muscles and catching their breath.
Then Andros nodded toward a huge pine with snow drifted up around its trunk.
“You should be able to den up in the snow under those branches,” he said.
“You start digging while I go back and make sure our trail is well covered.”
“Wait,” Finnvid said. “You said ‘you.’ Not ‘we.’” He paused, hoping to be contradicted, then said, “Where are you going to go?”
“I’ll probably den up with you, for tonight. And then I’ll move parallel to the trail until I figure out where your soldiers are. I want to avoid them, but I can’t afford to sit around and wait for them to get tired and go home.”
“But you’re going home? Without Theos?”
Andros dropped his head and peered down at his friend. Finnvid followed the gaze and saw Theos looking up at both of them.
“He needs to get the letter back to Windthorn,” Theos said. He still sounded weak, but there was no doubt in his voice. “He needs to make sure the people know—the Sacrati know—that the warlord has attacked us.”
“It may be too late by the time I arrive,” Andros said, and Finnvid knew he was searching for excuses to stay with Theos.
But Theos frowned at him. “It may not be. It shouldn’t be, not if you can catch up to Zenain and his band. I don’t think the warlord will attack at home until he knows things went according to plan in Elkat.”
“What if I hadn’t agreed to come?” Finnvid asked.
He looked from one Sacrati to the other.
“You wouldn’t have been able to go on ahead, right?
” Andros wouldn’t have left Theos behind, not injured as he was.
It was unthinkable. But if he hadn’t, he would have left his Sacrati friends in Windthorn vulnerable to a surprise attack.
Xeno was back there, and so many more. Finnvid shook his head.
“You would have just left him? You should have told me that before I decided to stay! What if I’d gone back? ”
“I’m Sacrati,” Theos said quietly.
“That doesn’t make you invincible!”
“It makes him duty-bound,” Andros said. “He’s sworn to fight and die for his brothers. He’s sworn to protect the Torian Empire, and Windthorn. You’ve made no such vow. You have no such duty. For you, there had to be a choice. A real one, not one made out of guilt.”
“You gambled with Theos’s life!”
“We gamble with our lives every day,” Andros said.
Then he clapped his hands together, signaling an end to the conversation.
“You,” he said, pointing at Theos, “instruct our young recruit on digging a nice three-man den. And you,” he added, waving in Finnvid’s direction, “stop standing around! Get moving! You’re wasting daylight, and the wind’s picking up.
When I get back, I want a nice home and a hot meal waiting for me.
And you should have my blankets spread out and airing.
And maybe a nice centerpiece of some sort . . .”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Finnvid said, and that was it.
He just got to work, piling and digging and tunneling according to Theos’s instructions, and shoulders that had been sore from being in one position for too long became screamingly painful from overuse.
But when he was done, he was able to help Theos to his feet, hold him upright while he peed into the snow, and then drag him inside their new den.
It was a den Finnvid had made by himself, and it was strong, and once he got a lamp lit it would be cozy.
“I made this,” he said out loud, and immediately felt foolish.
But Theos just nodded from his place on the snow floor, and inspected the dim space. “Good job.”
Finnvid turned to the packs to hide his blush.
“You . . .” Theos stopped, and Finnvid squinted at him. The Sacrati looked as if he was fighting with himself. Finally, he shook his head and said, “You really didn’t know. About the ambush. You didn’t lead us into that?”
Finnvid didn’t know what to say. After all the lies, why would Theos believe his truth?
“I swear,” he said intently. “And think about it! The attack only made sense to someone who believed everything in the warlord’s letter!
My family made a horrible decision, but they did it because they didn’t know the truth.
They thought I’d been abused, and were seeking revenge.
But I knew no revenge was justified. They thought the warlord was the absolute master of Windthorn, and had to be obeyed, but I know there are three leaders, two of whom would strongly object to Sacrati being attacked.
” He stared at Theos, willing him to hear the words as he said, “I would never hurt you because I never would. Because I respect you and . . . because I don’t want you hurt.
But even if that wasn’t true, the attack was just stupid, to anyone who has any idea what’s going on in Windthorn!
It was stupid, and I knew better. I swear. ”
When Finnvid was done, Theos was silent for a moment, then nodded. “I believe you,” he said quietly.
Finnvid returned his attention to the packs, but his hands were shaking too much to be much use. After so much horror, finally something good. Theos believed him. He gripped the canvas tightly, willing himself to be calm, and then rummaged in the pack with more purpose.