8. Chapter Eight
Chapter Eight
Kay
E very choice I have made has brought me to this moment, trekking through the tundra with a hostile resource in my arms. For the past fortnight, I have studied every encounter Constantinium has had with this particular rebel cell until I formulated the strategy that led me to this trek.
Every word that has left my mouth in the last forty-eight hours has been carefully crafted to create exactly the illusion necessary for me to lure their leader into my arms. Well, that wasn’t the original plan, but despite popular opinion, I am capable of flexibility should the situation call for it.
Still, as I trudge through shin-length snow with a hostile weight in my arms, I wish my plan hadn’t panned out quite so perfectly. This is a truly arduous journey, and my body cannot decide if it is overheated from exertion or freezing from the steady downpour of snow.
The benefit of my Healer Bloodline Magic is that I will eventually recover from all nasty side-effects. However, since it is sorely tainted, I still suffer a little, my body always lagging in the healing process.
I pause in front of the pine tree I indicated to my team from a map. A satchel I packed myself dangles from the branch. I awkwardly tug it off the branch with my neck and let it hang off me while my prisoner remains in my arms .
“W-we need to seek shelter,” Gerta says. They’re the first words she’s spoken since her teeth began chattering violently with the temperature plummet.
I frown. My body may overcome any physical obstacle placed in its path, but Gerta has no such accelerated healing, at least as far as I’ve documented. She needs higher blood flow to prevent her from losing extremities to frostbite. “I’m going to set you down and make you walk.” That will help with her blood flow and limit my overexertion.
“With wh-what?” Gerta demands. “We’re dead any route we take if we don’t find shelter soon. Can you even see your path?”
Actually, it is very difficult to see anything except white all around us. If the snow were a more liquid form of water, we’d have drowned by now. But as long as I have my compass strapped to my wrist, I know what direction we’re traveling.
“My men have set up a perimeter for us just ahead.” Every step I take expends more energy than I ever expected.
I numbly try to uncoil myself from Gerta before I even realize what I’m doing. But I can’t take another step with her in my arms.
“W-we’re never going to make it,” she gasps as I set her on the ground.
Gerta immediately collapses, nearly taking me down with her.
“We have to,” I counter, uncoiling the chain from around me more slowly than I’ve ever moved before. “Failure isn’t permitted.”
“I don’t think failure cares whether you’ll permit it.” Gerta tries to stand but collapses. She curls in on herself.
“No, don’t do that.” I grab her arm and tug her to her feet with the last of my strength. “You’re encouraging hypothermia to set in. ”
“It might be too late for that. We’ll be fortunate to survive this at all— let alone with our fingers and toes.”
I wrap her arm around my shoulders and stumble forward again. “You grew up in these wildlands. Surely, this isn’t the first blizzard you’ve encountered?”
“It’s the first one I’ve been foolish enough to be caught in! Just unchain me and let me die free. You are free to die tired.”
“No.” I stumble a few more steps forward, and that’s when I see it. Something other than white.
Billowing smoke.
“Look!” I cry.
Gerta turns. “I think that’s the deserted cabin.”
“If it’s a cabin, it’s shelter, and it’s obviously dry enough for a fire.” A fire . . . Nothing has ever sounded so pleasant.
“It’s the Snow Queen’s cabin, th-though,” Gerta whispers. “There’s always a price with her.”
“Then I’ll pay it— come on.” I change trajectory and begin marching toward the smoke that gives me a clearer goal than my men’s unseen hideout. Especially since they are likely in fur tents and not a pleasant log cabin . . .
Despite Gerta’s protests, she doesn’t fight me. We stumble forward together. Every time she slips, I pull her up. And when I fall, she tugs at my arm until I’m standing.
Every step is agony accompanied by the hope that the pain will end before our lives do.
And then logs seem to stack together right in front of us. What seemed like a hike away is now a handbreadth from my face.
“The door!” Gerta cries, pointing.
We hurry toward it, and then she grabs my arm.
“Hand me my knife,” she gasps. “In case the Snow Queen or some other hostile is within. ”
“You’re the only hostile I’m concerned about.” Brushing her hand away from where it’s sneaking toward my waist, I throw myself against the door.
It gives out immediately, and I stumble in, dragging Gerta behind me.
I catch myself before I collapse onto the wood boards and scan the area.
It’s a one-room cabin with no sigh of stairs going either up or down. The hearth in the center of the room is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. That is followed closely by the table set for two in the corner with steaming bowls of stew near the door. And then, finally, is the straw mattress laden with two blankets in the corner opposite the door. Cupboards bolted on the wall keep anything else from being on the floor.
Despite the homey setup, there is no one else in the cabin except Gerta and me.
“The legends are true,” Gerta whispers, staring at the chimney hole letting the smoke from the hearth billow out without allowing snow to filter in. She shrinks back toward the door. “This does belong to the Snow Queen.”
“Yet it does not seem like the type of abode a snow queen would prefer.” I push the door closed, shutting out the blizzard. “Whomever this home belongs to, I will reimburse them for their hospitality. First, we must take immediate action to save our fingers and toes.”
Using the chain, I pull her closer to the fire with me. Then I slide off my ice-encrusted gloves and drop them. I’ll lay everything out to dry properly later. But my training that was required despite my native experience warned me that I am not safe from the cold’s influence just because I am no longer in the midst of a blizzard. My Bloodline Magic needs time to work— and Gerta doesn’t even have that .
“We should leave,” Gerta whispers even as she curls next to the fire.
“We most certainly should not .” I numbly grope for the key and clumsily unlock my cuff. Then I peel off my coat, tunic, and shirt— all of which are completely soaked. It takes all my willpower not to take the rumpled garments and lay them out properly, but it’s not like wrinkles are a priority concern right now.
A clanging draws my attention to where Gerta has started crawling toward the door.
I step on cuff I just discarded. “You’ll die out there.”
“Death is better than imprisonment!”
“At least try to escape when you have a chance of survival. Why not have both life and freedom? Use logic, lassie.”
Gerta turns to me in surprise.
“It’s a toss-up whether your men or mine will find us first,” I offer, grabbing hold of the chain and dragging her back toward me. “And even without either group, this is still your territory. Once the blizzard passes, you have a better chance of escaping me than I would of pursuing you.”
Her mouth parts in surprise.
I kneel on the ground and then pull her completely into my lap.
“Wh-what are you doing?!”
“Exactly what you want.” I insert the key into her cuff’s lock and find myself even clumsier than before.
The moment she’s free, Gerta jumps off my lap. But she doesn’t immediately run for the door. I’m not sure she has the strength to, even if she has the courage.
I toss the chain behind me and carefully place the key back into the pouch of the belt and then put the belt— and all the weapons attached to it— on top of a cupboard that is higher than she is tall .
When I turn back, Gerta is staring intently at the cupboard.
“Think about escape later,” I order, tugging off my boots. Glancing at my wrist compass, I see that the screen must have been broken in my tussle with Gerta during the blizzard. Moisture has gotten inside and damaged the interior. Commander Muller will not be pleased.
Gerta crosses her arms. “I’ve got nothing better to do.”
“Yes, you do. Take off your clothes.”
Startling, Gerta turns to me just as I shed my soaked trousers. “What are you doing?!”
“Surviving. You’ve lived here your entire life. You don’t need an Imparian to tell you how dangerous wearing soaked clothing is when you’re trying to raise your temperature.”
Gerta staggers backward as I peel down my stockings, and one would think she’s never seen a man in braies before. But considering the company she keeps and the living arrangements, that seems unlikely. Honestly, I should remove those, too, but I fear she really would flee then. They are partially dry, so it will only be a little suffering to keep from fully scandalizing her.
“I intend to take you in alive, so please comply before I’m forced to use force.”
“Oh, no. Absolutely not, Captain .” Gerta tears her gaze away from my chest to glare at me. “I would rather die.”
“You seem to prefer death to a great many things, but that goes against my objective, I’m afraid.” I cross the room and collect one blanket, using it to dab at the moisture that soaked through my skin, but not too much lest I make it unusable for warmth. As it is, I wish I had thought to pack a cap to keep my half-frozen hair from dripping on my skin.
When I return, Gerta has removed her fur cap that is dripping as much as my hair. Her gloves and boots are beside it, but she appears to be struggling with the ties keeping her other layers in place .
“Do you require assistance?” I ask.
“No!” She gives me a look that tells me that even without a knife, she could slice me apart.
“Very well.” I move as close to the fire as I dare without singing the blanket I hold between us. “But hurry. Strip down to your smallclothes if they are dry enough. We won’t lose much heat from them.”
Gerta makes a noise, maybe a question, but her lips are so blue I’m surprised she’s spoken as much as she has.
I turn toward the door to make sure she doesn’t try to make another escape attempt. Not that I think she is capable of it any longer.
“Don’t worry, lassie,” I vow as my body heals faster than hers is capable, “I will get us both out of this alive.”