Chapter 41 #2
“That was nothing.” Her cheeks reddened. “You got the short end of the stick. Being stuck with Caius is by far the worst option. Dawson is at least tolerable.”
“He isn’t that bad.” Kaia dragged her bottom lip between her teeth. “You both seem better now?”
“Caius and I have brokered a tenuous alliance out of necessity. Though you two seem to have something completely different going on.” Alaire smirked.
“Us?” Kaia squeaked. “No. There’s nothing. We’re nothing.”
“Sounds entirely convincing.”
“Anytime now, ladies,” Caius called.
Kaia sighed, finally dressed in her winter gear. “Guess we’re both in for an adventure then. Here’s to surviving our charming companions.”
Alaire laughed, adjusting the last few buckles of her coat. “Cheers to that.”
A few minutes later, Alaire and Kaia emerged from behind Solflara’s wings—still not warm and toasty, but better. They’d both agreed to keep their leathers in the packs.
Alaire stood beside Solflara. Her vibrant feathers continued to glow faintly, a light in the challenges ahead. Alaire tugged at her fur-lined gloves, running her fingers through Solflara’s wings. She moaned softly at the extra warmth Solflara sent down the bond.
When she turned around, Dawson was staring right at her. His turquoise eyes darkened to a stormy teal, the color of tumultuous waves. His gaze smoldered, catching her off guard.
She felt her cheeks flush, but met his gaze head-on. A challenge sparked in her eyes.
Dawson pressed his lips into a thin line. His eyes traveled from her head to her toes, then back up again. She felt every inch of his stare.
All at once, she was thankful for the insulated gear that hid the goosebumps his gaze had caused. She wondered what it would feel like to press her lips to his. To burrow herself into his embrace. To unravel all of the enigma that was Dawson Knox.
Before either of them spoke, he turned away, shoulders tense.
Alaire’s heart pounded. She stepped back from Solflara, suddenly needing the bite of the icy wind to pull her from her haze of desire.
She rooted herself in the frozen ground. The two of them were nothing. Could never be anything. But still, there was a part of her—a part she tried to bury—that wondered.
It was in glances he gave her with those piercing turquoise eyes, when he pushed her to be stronger, and in the rare moments he revealed the male beneath his defenses. Something shifted inside her.
A small, treacherous fragment whispered that they could be more. Something beyond the bonds of blood and duty. Something that had started as disdain and spite had grown into respect. Somehow, they’d begun to build something real and unbreakable—a friendship.
Alaire shook her head, letting the blustering wind carry her thoughts away. But the possibility of more lingered deep within her, like a flame that refused to be extinguished. She wondered if, one day, she might be brave enough to let it burn.
Alaire watched Kaia and Caius’s retreating forms, Hadrian and Onyx alongside them, longer than she should’ve. She rubbed her chest. Somewhere along the course of the Astral Odyssey, she’d begun to think of the four of them as a unit.
“We should get going,” Dawson said.
“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Alaire murmured, though she still couldn’t bring herself to look away.
“She’ll be okay. Caius may be a pompous pain in the ass, but he genuinely cares for Kaia.”
“He better bring her back in one piece, or I’ll use every arrow he has to puncture through all the shit he’s so full of.”
His lips, previously set in a hard, uncompromising line, curved upward. And then he laughed.
The sound was rich and deep—beautiful, disarming. Her eyes snapped from Kaia and Caius to Dawson. She was entranced, wanting to memorize how carefree he looked, how unburdened. It stripped away the layers of his warrior facade, revealing a glimpse of the male beneath.
Beck nudged him forward with his beak. Dawson’s smile lingered before his eyes met hers, something tender flickering there. With another shove, his stoic mask snapped back in place.
“We got it, Beck. We’re going.” He exhaled a plume of white breath. “He’s not a fan of the cold.”
“Agree with you there, Beck.” The griffin squawked his mutual disdain for the tundra.
Caius and Dawson had already tested the caveat from the riddle— on foot you must tread —while Kaia and Alaire were changing. The celestials couldn’t fly here.
Solflara stepped beside Beck, raising one wing. Her flames flared brighter, and Beck instinctively retreated.
“ You’re feeling better ?” Alaire asked down the bond.
“ Yes . Much . Healing drains me , but Beck’s wound was small . Without flying you around , I’m practically back to my usual version of perfection .”
Beck’s eyes softened into a dreamlike haze.
“ I refuse to spend substantial time alone with that lovestruck griffin , though .”
Alaire chuckled. “ It’s not permanent . You’re our best shot at staying warm . Beck doesn’t have flames .”
“ I don’t see how that’s my fault or responsibility .”
“ It’s called being kind , Solf .”
“ I am kind . If it were Onyx , I would have no qualms . I already healed Beck . Somehow , he’s taken it as a declaration of undying love . Tell the prince if he doesn’t keep Beck in line , I can’t promise he’ll survive this trial .”
Alaire bit back a laugh. “ Solflara .” She tried for an admonishing tone.
“ I am a phoenix of my word , Firework ,” she added saccharinely.
Alaire ignored her. The last thing she needed to worry about was her phoenix’s love life—or aversion to one.
“All set,” Alaire declared.
“Me too,” Dawson said.
They turned westward. The mountain loomed in the distance like a silent observer, its peak piercing the stormy sky.
Snow began to fall as they left the meet-up point. Alaire’s breath frosted in the air; despite her new gear, the cold gnawed at her skin. The wind howled like a prowling beast. Somehow Dawson seemed unaffected—or if he was, he didn’t show it.
As they pressed onward, snow deepened, flakes swirling in chaotic patterns that cut visibility. When it became impossible to see more than a few feet, Dawson led. Her eyes fixed on his back, Alaire stepped in his prints.
“Almost there,” he called over the wind. He kept up a steady rhythm of reassurances, with variations of “Just a little further” or “You’ve got this.” His patience was infinite.
Each step grew heavier, the snow dragging her down. More than once she had to stop, inhaling from her breathbind reliquary before pushing forward again. Their progress was painfully slow.
It felt like eons before they reached the mountain’s shadow. The cliff face glistened with icicles, some as wide as Eclat Castle’s turrets, others thin and needle-sharp, ready to pierce her at the slightest provocation.
Alaire held a hand above her forehead to get a better look. There was a massive ice crevasse at the peak, its details obscured by the swirling snow that forced her to squint. A narrow, winding trail at the mountain’s base vanished into the clouds above.
Her eyes widened. “This is what we have to climb?”
Dawson nodded. He seemed focused yet calm, his attention fixed on scrutinizing the natural obstacles before them.
“Any chance the winterflame might just float down here and save us this death trip?” she muttered. “Doesn’t feel like too much to ask.”
Dawson pressed a fist to his mouth, trying to stifle a laugh. “Afraid not.”
She let out a slow breath. “Might as well get this over with, then.”
He pointed to a series of smooth rectangular rocks that rose upward with the mountain’s so-called “trail.”
“There. That looks like the best way forward. Sturdy enough to support our weight. We can follow that ledge to the right—it’s narrow, but it leads to a shelf about fifty feet up. We’ll need to be careful, swift, and precise. One wrong move and the ice will give way beneath us.”
“Okay,” Alaire said, committing his directions to memory. There was no room for doubt or hesitation.
They began to climb. Alaire focused on matching his movements, mirroring his deliberate steps and steady grip. Beck and Solflara trudged slowly behind them.
As the elevation increased, so did the ferocity of the storm. Each gust of wind slapped against her exposed skin, roaring in her ears, drowning out everything else. Dawson used his magic to thin out the thundering currents whenever they needed to speak.
For the first time in hours the noise fell to a hum, her head wasn’t being hammered from all sides.
She tilted her head toward him, waiting, but Dawson stayed silent.
“Is everything okay?” she called over the wind.
“Yeah,” he grunted, pulling himself up to the next foothold.
Okay …
“The wind—you settled it. Was there something you needed to tell me?”
He clung to the mountainside with one hand, glancing back at her briefly. “No. I noticed you kept pressing your free hand to your head and thought you could use the break.”
A tender warmth filled her chest. He’d noticed her discomfort without her saying a word.
“I… don’t… thank you. That’s incredibly thoughtful. But I can handle the wind. We’ll need your magic at full strength for whatever’s ahead.”
“Are you sure?”
Her voice nearly broke, but she cleared her throat. “I am.”
“If you change your mind, promise you’ll tell me,” he said, muscles bunching across his back as he climbed higher.
“I promise.”
The howling resumed. The ice grew slicker beneath her, offering little grip. Her legs strained on the narrow ledges, arms burning with each upward pull, but despite the ache and relentless cold, something light and buoyant had settled in the center of her chest.