Chapter 33 #2
The lump in my throat is thicker than ever as I return over the ice. I’ll ensure the cragstalkers never go the way of Estelia’s other lost species.
‘The ice-cabin’s close?’ Tansy asks, as I rejoin them.
‘Over there.’ I point a little way up the mountain. Squinting through the snow, I can just make out a tapered roof.
Tansy glances at Maris and Delphine. ‘Can we carry Blayze between us?’
The Islanders exchange a nervous look. Delphine’s eyes dart back to the remaining cragstalkers.
Tansy shakes her head. ‘We’ve asked too much already.’ She takes a laboured breath and levels Briar with a weighted stare.
I take in the wounds that haven’t fully healed since Galtair, the sylvanmare’s bowed head. ‘Is she strong enough?’
‘You said it isn’t far…’ The quaver in Tansy’s voice is far from reassuring.
The others heave Blayze onto Briar’s back and claim what they can from the saddlebags, I return to Astrophel.
He’s conscious but so pale, his aura a weak flickering thing, and the bandage binding his arm more blood than fabric now. I kneel beside him, settle his good arm around my neck, and haul him to his feet.
‘Just a bit further, then Tansy can patch you up.’ At least my voice doesn’t shake.
He holds my gaze, grey eyes shadowed with pain, then rests his forehead against mine. ‘Thank you.’
My chest is suddenly heavy. Weighted by more than the various packs I carry.
‘You don’t need to say that.’ I don’t deserve thanks, not when the chief part of my concern has been for Blayze.
‘But I do,’ he says, with a rueful smile. ‘There are so many things I need to say to you…’
The skin prickles on the back of my neck, but I don’t need signals from my brandsong to sense the dangerous direction this conversation is drifting in. The brightening of Astrophel’s aura is all the warning I need.
I lean away. ‘Don’t talk. Save your energy.’
Astrophel tries to shrug his arm off my shoulder. ‘I’ll manage by myself,’ he says. But he’s too weak to support himself.
I tighten my grip on his back. ‘Astrophel, wait. That’s not what I—’
He turns to me, a bitter smile playing on his lips. ‘I know exactly what you meant. But you’ll have to hear me sometime, Princess.’
With a shake of his head, he lets me lead him up the mountain.
*
I DON’T KNOW when Maris left Briar’s side, when she finally let go of Blayze’s hand and sidled up next to me. Sometime after I stumbled for the third time and Tansy forced me to let her help Astrophel the rest of the way to the cabin.
‘I thought he was dead,’ she blurts out in a broken whisper. ‘It’s my fault. I should never have agreed to Delphine summoning that storm. I should have stopped her.’ Maris breaks off as sobs convulse her body.
‘He’ll be fine.’ I stroke her shoulder, trying to force conviction I don’t feel into my voice.
And though I know it’s pointless, I allow my outward vision to dim, accepting this toll and the ensuing giddiness, as I focus on the tangle of silver threads flashing before my eyes, brightening as I access my second-sight.
I will them to weave the outcome, to reveal Blayze’s fate to me.
But the glittering threads hang limp. On this subject – as with everything to do with Oralia – they’re mute.
I take a breath, bracing against both the wooziness and disappointment, and blink the bright spots away.
‘Tansy will take care of him,’ I say. ‘He’ll be back to his usual irritating self in no time.’ My attempt at a laugh rings flat, and it’s clear from the twist of her lips that Maris is in no mood for jokes.
‘It was only ever meant to be fun – nothing serious. We both agreed,’ she says, half to herself. ‘I only knew when I saw him lying there unconscious, when I thought he was gone…’
‘You love him?’ I ask in a small voice.
Maris nods, eyes on the snow.
Why’s my stomach churning? This is hardly new information – I’ve known since Talini Maris was falling for Blayze.
I look away and catch sight of my reflection blinking in the window of the ice-cabin up ahead of us.
Stars! It’s not the gauntness, or the sunken eyes, or even the Shadow Mark that startles me.
It’s the expression on my face. I know this expression: shrunken, downcast, longing.
I’m intimately acquainted with it. Elvi’s face reflects back at me – my liegemaid’s face in all its unrequited wretchedness.
I hastily master my features and link arms with Maris.
Platitudes spill from my lips as we press on towards the cabin, white lies promising all will be well.
But I can’t lie to myself anymore.
I want Blayze. Want him with a wild, aching need I never dreamt possible.
I can’t explain it. Only that I’m drawn to him by some invisible force bigger and stronger than my own will – as if I’m one of Arcelia’s moons, and Blayze the burning sun locking me in his orbit.
Maybe it’s our shared bond of cruel fathers – he knows the particular brand of shame and blame that’s been my constant companion since my brother died and my mother fell ill.
Or maybe it’s an effect of the starstone, another way Shadow is corrupting me and eroding my reason.
Or perhaps it’s base desire, and I’ve merely fallen for his chiselled body and roguish smirk.
I wouldn’t be the first. But whatever is at the root of it, I can’t extricate myself from the grip of this need.
Worse, I don’t want to try.
This explains the creeping dread when I first met Maris. My brandsong must have known, even then, how she’d make me suffer. That we were destined to become rivals.
Not that there’s any true competition, of course. How could I ever compete with someone like her? With the flash of her eyes, the whip of her wit – those curves.
Blayze would never – could never – look at me, as he looks at Maris. He’ll never see me as anything but a star-cursed abomination.
*
IT TAKES A few moments for my eyes to adjust to the gloom of the cabin after the glare of the mountain.
Arranged over two levels linked by an icy ramp, the circular dwelling is cramped but surprisingly warm for a structure made from stacked, tapering blocks of packed snow.
Airless though, verging on claustrophobic, despite the door and small window at ground level.
There’s a pile of musty furs stacked against the wall, an old cooking pot, some worn utensils, a few bowls, but no other furnishings on the ground floor.
The structure is dusty and laced with cobwebs, but weather-tight.
Offering some protection, should the frostfangs return. Should Arden finally decide to attack.
We leave our belongings on the ground floor and climb the ramp to the semi-circular upper platform.
It’s warmer up here, but darker, even more airless.
A pair of simple wooden bedsteads are pressed close to the wall, looking out to the door below.
While Delphine and Maris arrange furs on them, ready to receive our wounded, Tansy relinquishes Astrophel to my care and starts to rummage through her basket, extracting medicinal supplies.
I half help Astrophel, half drag him to the closest bed, then kneel in the centre of the platform and busy myself lighting candles, placing them in the pair of small lanterns we raided from Talini.
Tansy moves beside Astrophel and starts to unbind the tourniquet, muttering under her breath as the metallic stench of his blood fills the cabin.
Together, Maris and Delphine haul Blayze from Briar’s back and lay him on the other bed.
Serafine perches on the bedpost closest to his head. The poppy has him out cold.
Unburdened, Briar nickers softly, and curls up close to Tansy’s feet.
I leave one of the lanterns beside Blayze and take the other to Tansy. Astrophel’s eyes stretch wide as he watches her thread a needle.
‘Stay with me,’ he croaks, reaching out his good hand to me.
I hesitate, remembering his words on the mountain, my own feelings for Blayze. It would be better to keep my distance, but he looks so pale, so weak. Astrophel grips my hand and shuts his eyes. His palm is slick with sweat.
‘See if you can get that torc off,’ Tansy calls to Maris, as she douses a cloth in ether. ‘Blayze will breathe easier without it.’
I glance over my shoulder. Maris is sitting on the bed beside Blayze, stroking his cheek. Her face stricken. For one mad moment I wish we could switch places. I shake the thought away, clench my jaw.
My place is here.
Astrophel stiffens as Tansy cleans his wounds, crushing my fingers as he bites back a groan.
She sets the cloth down and extracts the bottle of silver liquid from her basket. ‘Peace-poppy for you, too. It’s going to take time to stitch this, probably best you’re not awake through it.’
Astrophel swallows the argent drops Tansy shakes onto his tongue.
His eyes roll back, his muscles slacken. Before long, he too lies in a drugged stupor.
I look away as Tansy works, focusing on the shadows the lanterns cast on the glistening cabin walls, but I catch glimpses of mangled flesh.
He’s injured because of me, because he fought to protect me from that frostfang.
I fight to keep my breaths steady and shallow as Tansy closes the wounds.
When I summon the courage to look again, the worst is over – the sutures piecing Astrophel’s arm together, neat and precise.
‘I need to make up a salve to reduce the risk of infection.’ Tansy tucks an unruly curl behind her ear, replaces the needle and ether in her pack, and draws out a wooden mortar and pestle along with further restoratives. Some things I recognise, like honey and vinegar, but others are foreign to me.
My regard for Xylian healing only increases the longer I spend in Tansy’s company. If – when – we succeed in ending Arden’s curse, I’ll introduce their herbs and methods to Estelia.
‘I’ve done all I can,’ Tansy murmurs as she pounds the ingredients into a thick paste.
‘Astrophel’s wounds are deep. He’s lost a lot of blood.
He’ll struggle to use that arm for a while – some damage might even prove permanent.
But if we keep the wounds clean, allow him to rest, he should recover.
’ She sighs, lowering her voice further still. ‘I’m less hopeful for Blayze.’
I follow her gaze. Maris is still kneeling beside him, quietly stroking his cheek. Her eyes never leave his face.
Tansy wrinkles her brow. ‘A strike like that should have killed him instantly.’
I swallow. ‘Blayze is stronger than most.’
‘We have to hope his heart wasn’t damaged by the lightning, that he wasn’t starved of air too long while he lay unconscious. As for his legs…’
The room starts to spin. Panic surges like a dark, choking wave. I count backwards from ten to ground myself, steady my breathing. I can’t fall apart. Not now.
Tansy’s eyes flick to Briar, asleep at her feet.
‘I could ask her to give blood, but she’s still so weak after what that monster did to her in Galtair.
’ Tansy’s throat bobs, and she grips the wooden bowl tighter in her lap.
‘I’ll give the salve a chance to work; I won’t ask her to sacrifice any more. Not yet.’
She bends to her work, transferring the paste to an earthen vessel. While she slathers it thickly on Astrophel’s wounds, I take my chance to check on Blayze.
Serafine stands watch at his shoulder, eyes glittering like fire-opals. I kneel beside Maris, trying to imagine Blayze, the strongest man I’ve ever met, unable to walk – addled. I let my gaze sweep over him, taking in the livid fern-scars embroidering his torso, his neck.
I blink. Look again. My eyes lock on the point where auburn curls kiss his collarbones, on a mark that shouldn’t be there, a mark usually hidden by his torc.
Is it part of the lightning burns? But even as the thought crosses my mind, I reject it. There’s no denying what that mark is. That faint mark in the shape of a flame.
Flame-kissed. Flame-cursed.
Blayze is Flame-Branded.