Chapter 45
Deciding to go west narrows our options.
Rowell lies wedged between the frozen Follen Lake and the Taron River, with barely any room to manoeuvre. Whichever way we choose, there’s no easy path through.
‘Any preference, Caz?’ I ask. ‘You studied the maps.’
‘Yeah, but unfortunately the maps don’t give any indication of the weather, and that’s going to be what causes us trouble this far up north.’
She’s right. Over the last day it’s become noticeably colder, and the chilliness isn’t just coming from Kyor.
‘We should go east,’ Kyor grunts. ‘Closer to the lake.’
‘But if it’s rained recently, that whole area will be frozen,’ Caz counters. ‘It’ll be like walking on an ice rink.’
‘Which is not what we want with the horses,’ Ruben joins in.
‘Well, going by the river, the ground will be boggy. The mud there can be so thick that a man can disappear into it. It’s no less suitable for the horses than the lakeside,’ the prince snaps back.
‘The river will be okay,’ Benny says, ‘because it’s tidal.’
It’s the first time he’s spoken directly to Kyor since Galreck, and I half expect a lightning bolt to fire down from the sky, but it doesn’t.
There’s nothing. Complete and utter silence.
Benny clears his throat and continues. ‘We would just have to pick our time and route with care and make sure we stick to high ground. But at least that way we avoid having to deal with ice. I can’t remember how many times the river has frozen, but it’s a once-in-a-century type of event, rather than once a decade. ’
‘Then the river gets my vote,’ Caz says.
Ruben also nods in agreement, but my gaze remains on Kyor.
His jaw is rigid, tension in every line of his frame. ‘We’re moving closer to Torailian territory that way,’ he finally says.
‘They’re not going to come this side of the river,’ Benny counters.
‘The river is officially ours, but in their eyes it is disputed territory,’ Kyor bites back. ‘None of you have experience with this land. I have, and I’m telling you, we’re safer with the lake.’
I’ve got one memory of the lake, and safety is definitely not what comes to mind. Instead, all I can think of is the spectres that filled the air, and the voices in my head, telling me to do dreadful things.
An image of Oke’s dead body flashes into my mind, a red splash among all the white.
Kyor looks at me, and his jaw softens a fraction. He’s remembering the same thing.
Something changed between us that day. He saved my life, stopping me from slitting my own throat, but he also saw what I was capable of. Saw the magic in me that could see Kay and me murdered.
Our eyes hold for a moment before he looks away.
Thessa and Stide are engaged in light conversation a little way away. What I’d really like is the Sannings’ opinion on the matter. I’m sure they know which way is best for us to go, but they always stay remarkably silent during these discussions.
‘Thessa, Stide,’ I interrupt them. ‘You want to weigh in? You agreed to guide us, and so far … there’s been almost no guiding, and literally none since the hule.’
Thessa gives a beatific smile. ‘We guided your feet before, The Rose. Now we guide your souls.’
My jaw drops. ‘Are you kidding me?’ It comes out high-pitched and irritated.
Stide smirks. ‘I know. Tough job.’
I give her the best glare I have. But, if anything, her smile widens.
The discussion threatens to become more spirited, but before I can tell Stide exactly what I think of her guidance, another sound interrupts us. Elska. It’s not a growl so much as a whine, and I’m pretty sure it’s the first time I’ve ever heard her make a noise like that.
Something tells me it’s not a good thing. It almost sounds as if she’s in pain.
As Elska whines again, insistent, Kyor’s attention flicks to her, and something indecipherable flashes across his face. He draws in a long inhale. ‘Okay. We’ll go west,’ he says. ‘To the Taron River. Then I want out of that area as quickly as possible.’
His sudden capitulation makes my frown deepen. It is not like Kyor to give in to anything.
‘Fine then. We’re agreed,’ Benny says. ‘Let’s keep going. We still have some light left.’
With a nudge of our horses, we’re back on the road, but while the others continue their conversations, I remain silent, my attention locked on the prince leading us.
I wish Kyor would speak to me about anything other than directions, though what we could possibly talk about, I don’t know. How I hid Benny’s truth from him? How he continues to hide whatever it is he’s bound to secrecy over? Or how my brother, who his father condemned to death, still lives?
Despite me telling Kyor I love him, William’s continued existence isn’t something I can risk him knowing.
Maybe talking isn’t best after all. Still, I can’t stop stealing glances at him, unable to tear my eyes away for long. He’s definitely favouring his injured shoulder, and there are little lines of pain around his forehead.
The dose of Robbard’s tincture he took last night is bound to have worn off, and I wonder if I should remind him to take some more. But he’s a grown man. He doesn’t need me mothering him, and so I stay silent. If the pain gets bad enough, I’m sure he’ll remember to take it.
Then again, this is Kyor we’re talking about. He’s probably treating the pain as some kind of penance for letting Benny live.
The day drags on. Stops for food are brief and mostly silent, and we set up camp for the night when we can hear the rush of the river water, although it’s not yet visible through the density of the trees.
Loch is having the worst night I’ve seen in a while, pacing up and down as he wrings his hands. I thought his muttering was uneasy, but it’s the moments he stops, when he plummets into a silence so impenetrable that it’s as if he’s been pulled into the forest itself, that are the hardest.
Benny tries his best, and Ruben, too, with the pair taking turns trying to calm him, or at least remain by his side so that he doesn’t wander too far, but Loch’s not the only one struggling.
Elska is also prowling, constantly circling us and whining as she does so. Like Loch, the moments she stops are almost as hard as the ones filled with her whimpers.
If she had been acting like this yesterday, I would have asked Kyor if he knew what was disturbing her and if there was anything I could do to help. But the last thing I need to hear is that her pain is his – that his injury is hurting her.
Or worse still, that the response is a shared mourning for Zelle – their torture over being so close to Benny, knowing he’s the one who brought about their friend’s death.
It’s all speculation, of course, and speculation helps no one. But though I can’t do anything to help Elska, there is, I realise, a way I can help Loch.
‘Thessa?’ I call to the Sanning. She’s currently talking to Caz, who has the book I took from the library at Galreck on her lap – the one that mentions the Sannings and vendari and is written in a language I can’t read.
Yet judging by how far through the tome Caz is, the scribe is clearly making progress.
I wonder if she’s checking with Thessa about the validity of what she’s reading. It’s what I would be doing if I were her. But with her … particular interest in Thessa, that might not be the most diplomatic thing to do.
After the conversation Caz and I shared the other night, I feel bad for disturbing the pair, but what I need won’t take long.
‘That moss there’—I point to a tree covered in a deep green quilt—‘is that okay? Or is it … you know, Sannthrall?’
After what happened to Caz, I can only look at the seedless plant with a sense of trepidation. Not that I intend on lying down on it right now.
Pressing her lips together and notably disgruntled over being interrupted, Thessa walks across to me, only to prod the plant with her toe.
‘Normal,’ she replies laconically before turning around and heading back to Caz. I’d be interested to know how the pair have so much to talk about when she’s barely said three words to me all day, although it’s still more than I’ve got from Stide.
And it’s not like the pair talk much to each other either. If Caz hadn’t assured us that Thessa was telling the truth about the Sannings having no magic, I’d swear there had to be telepathy between them.
‘Thank you,’ I call to Thessa’s retreating back.
Now that I know it’s safe, I reach out with my magic to connect to the moss. I relax as I feel none of the foulness I felt with the Sannthrall. Only now do I realise how scared I was to connect to the plant.
The twisted tree packed one hell of a punch when I tried to fight it – it knocked me out, and Kyor stayed by my side for a whole day.
The thought makes me nostalgic. It seems unfair that I was unconscious the whole time, unable to see it for myself.
Then again, what good would it have done to know he was there?
He would have held me through every second of the other night, long after my nightmares had ended, if that’s what I’d asked him to do.
With a slight sniff, I shake away thoughts of Kyor. There’ll be plenty of time to brood over the prince.
For now, I can actually do something useful.
If Thessa had lingered by my side, I would have asked what she saw – or didn’t see – when she kicked the moss that told her it was fine, but for now, I focus on another task.
I bend over and peel several large clumps from the tree trunk, pick the dirt from the bottom, and then wash the moss using water from my flask.
‘What are you doing?’ Stide asks curiously.
‘Trying something different. Ruben,’ I call, ‘can you come here?’ Having swapped charge with Benny and no longer sticking to Loch’s side, Ruben’s taken a well-deserved place by the fire, but he instantly jumps to his feet to help.
‘If I were to give you some more magic, could you heat this up for me?’
He looks at the small pile of green matter in my hand. ‘Sure. What exactly do you want me to do?’