Eighteen
Kyrundar
When we stopped to eat, I checked on Zidra’s arm despite her feeble protests. Thankfully, she had kept her dragon fire reined in while slaying the void wolf. Still, I didn’t like the blue tint to the skin surrounding the puncture. Having any amount of ice magic embedded in her body for so long was dangerous. Silently, I prayed that we would not encounter any more people in need of help. Zidra would cut her arm off before she refused aid to anyone—although if it came to that, I’d encase her in ice and carry her away no matter how much she hated me for it.
That night we reached a small town with a Haven, if the austere single-room cottage with three mats on the floor could be called a Haven. But it was warm and dry and better than the ground, and we had the place to ourselves .
Zidra kept tossing and turning on her mat. Absently, I reached for the heartbond. Once again, I met a wall, as if she were trying to lock away whatever was troubling her. The barrier felt weaker. Maybe if I’d pushed I could have broken through, but I didn’t know if she might sense that, and I didn’t want to intrude. So instead, I focused on sending soothing, caring sensations her way. Soon she stilled. Her breathing deepened to sleep, and I quickly followed.
By some miracle, I woke before Zidra. Sunlight from the one dingy window fell over her mat, and she’d rolled over to put her back to the light, which put her face toward me. She looked younger while asleep, maybe because the prickly defensiveness and iron self-sufficiency she usually wore had fallen away. Her dark eyelashes nearly brushed her high cheekbones. I had the urge to run my fingertip over the gentle bow of her pink lips, bury my hands in her curls, and kiss the slope of her neck.
I turned away and got dressed with my back to Zidra, then went to the outhouse. I wasn’t gone long, but when I returned, she was dressed and rearranging her pack. The door groaned as I closed it behind me. She glanced over, and her cheeks reddened before she bent over her pack, her curls hiding her face.
I looked down at myself but couldn’t find any reason for that reaction. Unless perhaps she was angry with me? Ah, of course. I’d disappeared without saying anything, the exact thing I had berated her for doing.
“Sorry,” I said. “I was around back— ”
“I know. Did you eat yet?”
I shook my head. I wasn’t looking forward to more travel rations.
“We should stop by the bakery on our way out,” Zidra said. “Save the preserved foods for the road. Maybe they have those iced cinnamon buns you love.”
I stared at her as she tied off her pack and stood. “You remember my favorite pastry?” Then I grinned. “And I thought you didn’t care.”
She waved her hand. “You’re incredibly vocal about how much you love them. Everyone who has met you probably knows you love cinnamon buns.”
Still grinning, I strode past her to my own pack and set about shoving items into it. “Well, maybe the bakery will also have those flaky, buttery apple turnovers you love so much.”
Zidra was quiet. When I turned toward her, she was watching me with a curious expression.
“What? You’re allowed to make note of my favorite, but I’m not allowed to notice that’s what you always pick if they’re available?”
“I never thought you were paying attention. To anything other than yourself, really.”
I clamped down on my tongue, holding back my affronted argument. Maybe Iskyr allowed this heartbond simply to teach me some awareness I didn’t even know I was lacking . The thought brought a sardonic smile to my lips, which I quickly morphed into a teasing smirk. “I pay attention to a great many things, but to you most of all. ”
Her eyes narrowed.
So I rose to the challenge. Abandoning my pack, I took a step closer and counted on my fingers. “You prefer the bottom cot of stacked beds. You don’t like mushrooms and always leave them on your plate if you can get away with it without causing insult. You prefer red meat to white meat. You have the sharpest senses of any shifter I know, and sometimes your senses overwhelm you and give you a headache, especially in crowded spaces. If you were to buy yourself a gown, you’d get one in dark red, because you think you look good in it. You—”
“How do you know that?” she demanded.
More than once, I had watched her linger over dark-red fabric or choose dark red when she purchased a scarf. One time I’d caught her holding a dark-red cloak over her armor and admiring her reflection in a tiny mirror before reluctantly putting it back. She hadn’t realized I was there.
“Like I said. I pay attention.” I set about dealing with the bedding I’d used, and Zidra did likewise with her cot. That taken care of, I strapped on my swords, then fastened my pack and looped it over my shoulders. “Ready to go?”
After we bought cinnamon buns and flaky apple turnovers for breakfast, we continued on our way. The sound of whooshing air made conversation difficult, but we still spoke occasionally. To my surprise, Zidra usually initiated, making some observation on the landscape or recalling a story from Harcos. It was the most pleasant day of travel we’d had so far.
As we traveled north, settlements became smaller and less frequent, and trees thinned from thick forests to copses tucked amid rolling hills of grasslands and cereal fields. When night fell and we made camp in a glen, the sound of bleating sheep carried faintly on the breeze.
This time, I didn’t bother making the snow shelter large enough for both of us. I’d learned my lesson. Still, when Zidra said “good night” as I bent to enter my shelter, I considered asking if she was sure she didn’t want to share. Not wanting to lose the more friendly interactions we’d achieved today, I instead wished her good night and went inside.
Without consciously thinking about it, I reached for the heartbond as I lay down. Zidra felt restless, but there was much less resistance. Perhaps she had worked through whatever emotions she’d been trying to bury. I recited a prayer of protection and rest over us both and let myself fall into sleep, holding the heartbond like a child might hold a stuffed bear toy.
Something jerked me back to consciousness.
I had no idea how long I had slept, but a panicked energy coursed through me. I opened my eyes to blackness and rolled over, reaching blindly for my swords. The moment my fingers brushed a leather sheath, I seized the weapons.
As I sat up, my brow furrowed. It wasn’t dark only inside. Past my feet, where there should have been light from the stars and moon illuminating the world beyond the low door, there was nothing. As if I were inside not a snow shelter, but a tomb .
Another spike of panic shot through me, and something deep in my soul urged me to go outside.
Zidra was in danger.
I had no time to question how I knew that or what it meant, or even whether the door to my shelter was truly gone. Zidra needed help. I drew my swords and sent my magic ahead of me as I moved toward where the entrance should have been. Sure enough, it was there, but my magic tangled with the energy of another elf’s magic. I burst through the opening into an inky murkiness. Brisk air brushed over my face and bare chest and teased the ends of my hair, but I couldn’t see a thing.
Night elf.
“Iskyr aid me,” I breathed.
Trusting the guidance of the heartbond, I raced in Zidra’s direction, sending waves of whirling, glowing ice in front of and above me. My magic drove back the night elf’s shadow magic, allowing moonlight to shine through. My jaw clenched as I caught sight of the nearly full moon. Night elves were strongest at night, and the light of the moon and stars fed their magic.
A faint scuffling sounded ahead, and the heartbond wavered.
“Zee!” Where was she?
I increased the swirling snowflakes until a miniature blizzard localized around me. The shadows in the night elf’s control pushed back.
I hated fighting night elves, and I’d never had the ill luck of facing one outside of training bouts. They wielded shadows, growing them, giving them form, using them like grasping and crushing tentacles. They could hide themselves in shadows, moving at night unseen, and while our magics could battle, the only sure way to defeat a night elf was to find and incapacitate the elf.
A choked gasp came from the tangling shadow and ice magics, and then a tan hand shot upward and grabbed onto a tendril of darkness. The glow of my ice crystals illuminated the outline of a dark, writhing mass.
Zidra was at the center of that web of suffocating magic.
With a battle cry, I blasted ice at the enveloping shadows, directing it to avoid hurting her. I slid to my knees and dropped my swords. They did little against magic, and I’d need all my strength to beat back the night elf’s power.
Fingers spread wide, I reached out until my palms bumped into the night elf’s corporeal shadows—an odd sensation, like passing through thickening mist and then hitting something solid. With a growl, I unleashed a pulse of raging cold into the seething darkness.
The shadows retreated before my onslaught, revealing Zidra’s arm and thigh. Her movement slowed, and through the heartbond, I sensed her resistance fading.
“No!” My pulse pounded faster. “Release her!”
As soon as her head and a shoulder emerged, I pulled her toward me. Ice magic still swirled from my other hand. In the back of my mind, I diverted ice away from us into the shadowed glen in search of the attacker.
No longer suffocating, Zidra gasped down air. She shoved and kicked at the grasping shadows. The heartbond heated, and Zidra’s eyes glowed red.
My grasp on her shoulder tightened. “Don’t shift!”
I hadn’t saved her from a night elf assassin to lose her to the ice curse.
She hissed her displeasure, but the glow faded from her eyes. She lunged forward and grabbed the hilt of her sword, yanking it free of the sheath without any indication she’d barely escaped death.
“Can you find the infernal elf?” Zidra ground out.
From the trees beyond our makeshift camp sounded a hiss of pain right as my magical sense indicated the presence of a person. A vengeful grin pulled at my mouth.
“Indeed. Follow me.” I seized my own swords and surged to my feet. A cyclone of ice kept the grasping fingers of shadow from reaching us as we sprinted toward the opening of the glen.
I concentrated on my magic that surrounded the assassin. Using my magical sense, I pinned the struggling elf to the ground with manacles of ice.
Grunting and muttered curses in a male voice carried through the night. I slowed and decreased my protective snow magic so I could see. A few strides in front of us, the pale blue glow of my magic warred with the night elf’s shadows.
With my eyes closed to better rely on my magical sense, I pulled back my sword. If I missed my target, I’d bury my sword in the hard dirt and lose precious moments.
There .
If I was right, I’d strike the elf in the shoulder. The wound shouldn’t be fatal.
Yet I hesitated. I might kill the elf, and with both our magics between us, the assassin likely couldn’t see me, either. I’d be killing a bound, sightless opponent.
Iskyr, guide my blade, and forgive me should I kill unjustly.
I stabbed downward.