16. Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Sixteen
The Enemies
Kay:
J ust focus on the next foothold . . .
I must be doing a good job at hiding my strain, because Gerta doesn’t seem concerned at all in my arms. Well, to be perfectly accurate, I’m in her arms, which are wrapped around my neck and clinging to the rope that I still clutching. The rope is going to run out soon, but that isn’t what matters right now. Putting my foot in the next crack in the mountain does.
Thankfully, there has always been a crack, though they have become further spread apart, which is what finally drove Gerta into this position. This position I’m not thinking about, since her legs are also wrapped around me— my waist, specifically.
Would it be more awkward if she was the male leader I was expecting? Honestly, I can’t imagine holding anyone other than Gerta like this . . .
I frown. This line of thought is even less encouraging than my fear that I’ll lose my grip out of sheer exhaustion before my stamina can return.
“We’re almost out of rope,” Gerta says, because she has not been assisting with the only-the-next-foothold mentality ever since she started looking past my shoulder.
“It’s not that much farther,” I assure both her and myself as I take my next step down. “I’ll jump the rest of the way. ”
“I hate that plan.”
“You hate all my plans, yet you always end up in my arms anyway.” I’m not sure where that came from, but I hope it goes away soon.
Gerta is evidently not pleased either. “I hate you, too.”
I move down two more footholds and find it useless to keep clinging to the rope that can take us no farther. “Well, I’m at the end of my rope with you.”
“You know all those times I said you’re a funny person when we were kids?”
“Yes.”
“I meant how you looked, not your sense of humor, because you don’t have the latter.”
Just because it seems better to tease her— whether or not she believes I’m capable of it— than focus on my exhaustion, I raise my brows. “But I have the former?”
She purses her lips. “Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad for me to fall if it meant taking you with me.”
I glance down, measuring the distance. “If you insist . . .”
“No— no!” Gerta squeals in my ear as she tightens her grip around my neck until she’s choking me.
Gasping, I reach for another handhold— leaving the rope behind. “If you don’t want us to fall, lassie, you should probably let me breathe.”
Gerta loosens her grip on me, and I descend another few steps. Then my next foothold finds ice rather than snow.
Instinctively, I reach for the rope. But of course, it’s not there anymore.
Then Gerta and I topple backward against her wishes.
Gerta:
If I had a denarius for every time I’ve had my breath knocked out of me around Kay, I’d be able to purchase a whole new fur coat. Or I will soon, at the rate I’m going.
For a moment, I remain perfectly still as my body reverberates with the impact of my landing on Kay, who hit the snow maybe three yards below. I’m almost too scared to move, but Kay isn’t breathing either, and he might have an easier time if I weren’t on him.
Using all my willpower, I roll off Kay, lying on the cold snow beside him. Then I stare silently up at the mountain we’ve sled and climbed down. It’s so tall, it’s making me dizzy.
The world continues to spin wildly when Kay grasps my fingers in his.
I turn to him in surprise.
Kay opens his mouth and then closes it when he seems to realize he can’t speak without his breath. He just silently squeezes my hands.
I’m just as incapable of speech, so I can’t ask him what on earth is going on. Surely, he hasn’t developed romantic notions toward me. He’s my captor, and I’m his childhood tormentor. Despite all this, we barely know each other. And even if none of that was true, Kay isn’t the sort of man to catch feelings at all— he doesn’t have any to begin with.
Finally, Kay gasps, sitting up partly as he drinks in the air. Then he looks down at me. “There’s no more handcuff, so . . .” He holds up our entwined hands.
Scowling, I finally find my breath and use it to tug my hand free. I’m unsuccessful against Kay’s firm grip.
He stands, pulling me up with him.
I wince, my entire body aching, but nothing is broken, so I stay on my feet. Kay appears to be in a similar shape, bent partially over. He’ll heal a lot faster than I will, though, which doesn’t seem fair when he’s the one who dropped us.
Kay is unconcerned with that injustice as he glances up at the setting sun. “Oh, good, night is almost upon us.”
“Oh, you like the idea of freezing to death in a Gaelic night, do you?”
“We won’t freeze if we keep moving.”
I prop my unclaimed hand on my hip and glower at him. “You just want an excuse to curl up with me under a blanket again, don’t you?”
Kay stumbles a half a step but keeps plowing on. “With my compass damaged, I need the constellations in order to find our bearings. Unless you know this part of the wilderness?”
Unfortunately, I’ve never ventured to this side of the mountain. It might make sense to walk around it without searching for a path. But it makes more sense to conserve energy, which I already have so little of, since all I’ve eaten recently was a stolen bowl of stew.
“Of course, you don’t.” Kay continues to tug me forward.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Only that if you did know the way, you’d be leading me back to your camp.”
I purse my numb lips. “I suppose that’s right . . .”
Kay draws me toward where pine trees begin the sparsest of forests. “Let’s shelter here until nightfall to conserve our strength.”
My entire body aches, so I can’t help but agree with him just this once.
We duck under the shelter of the pine trees until Kay finds a random one and sits against the trunk. He tugs me to come sit down beside him. I twist enough to keep my back to the trunk as well, but he doesn’t release my hand to let me go farther. Not that I have the energy to run. I don’t even care if this snow I’m sitting on is cold.
For a long moment, we sit in silence, just focusing on our breathing and holding gloved hands. I’m vaguely aware of how strange this all is. Someday, after I escape captivity and make it back to my team— after I return to what I know and this becomes a distant memory— I will likely look back in wonder. This day is not how my life is meant to operate, and everything feels like a dream— a very painful dream.
For now, though, there is no reprieve ahead of me. Yes, I will likely be brought into a warm shelter again and fed, but like the Snow Queen’s cabin, it will come at a cost.
My freedom.
“What do you have planned for me,” I ask, my lips numb, “when you take me back to your base?”
“ I have no plans with you,” Kay answers. “It is my commanding officer you must answer to. My mission ends the moment I surrender you into his charge.”
I glance down at our entwined hands. My fingers are too numb to pull away from his. I wish they could, though. Holding his hand while he speaks like this makes me feel hollow. “And do you have any inclination of what your commanding officer wants with me, and how he intends to treat me in my captivity?”
Kay stares straight ahead. “I did not ask for the specifics, as that was beyond the scope of my mission. But do not fear; he is a stern man, but just.”
“And does your assessment of my situation change any when you consider that your commanding officer likely expecting a male leader, not a woman?”
His jaw ticks. “You will receive no different treatment, if that is what you fear. As I said, my commanding officer is a just man. Male and female are the same to him under the law.”
“What a relief,” I mutter dryly .
“The sun is gone,” Kay announces, standing and pulling me to my feet. “We must start moving again.”
“Yes, let’s move right to the cage I’ve feared my entire life.”
Kay ignores me, turning instead to the faintly appearing constellations, as though they might guide him in more than one way.