31. Maren
Maren
Dawn blazed across the sky in strokes of blue, the sun not yet climbing over the distant hills. Something warm and soft cradled my cheek, a slow pulse beating against my skin. Kolibri.
My breath fogged, and I pulled my fur higher over myself, eyes roving our group.
We’d slept in twos and threes curled together like hounds.
Nori, Olinne, and Aitne shared a fur across from me.
Not far from them, Aegir and Pheolix sat sharing quiet words and poking a budding fire.
My brow lifted at the sight of Diara and Hadrian, invisible under a thick pelt except for the long red curls escaping across the winter grass, Hadrian’s hand twined softly in the strands.
Kye squatted next to Pheolix, stirring something in the pot over the fire. Selena sat beside him, arms crossed, a vague look in her eyes as though someone had just asked her how to solve advanced arithmetic.
Cebrinne met my stare and held it.
We hadn’t spoken since leaving the house of shadow, but her words had rippled across my consciousness more times than I could count.
You deserve time to be angry with me.
Except I wasn’t sure I was angry now. Confusion warped me instead, stretching my thoughts into long, invasive vines that tangled together like a creeping jungle.
Why was it so easy, so natural, to be angry?
Anger was warm and safe, a fortress with stone walls and guarded shadows, a shield and a sword forged into one.
It sharpened my corners, defended my blind spots, alerted me to lurking danger.
But it had left me—abandoned me—before I even realized it had gone. What had taken its place threatened my walls like an anxious tick. Suddenly I felt too vulnerable, too exposed as I stared back at Cebrinne. I sat higher, arching my spine, dropping my gaze.
Coward, a voice taunted inside my head.
Rocks crunched nearby, and Selena leaned down to me, offering a steaming cup. “Good morning,” she said.
I let a few seconds burn before I took it from her. “Morning.”
She nodded at the water. “The air tastes colder this morning than it did yesterday. Will you be all right?”
Her tea was warm and biting, not the smooth, bold taste of what Hadrian had shared the night before. I wondered if she had gathered her own leaves in the nettles up shore. “If we can take short breaks for Aitne to warm my blood, I’ll be fine.”
Clear blue eyes studied me for a moment. Then she gave a single nod. “Let’s get moving, then.”
Fifteen minutes later, the river lapping at our feet, I folded a strip of silk over Kye’s eyes. My fingers trailed the knot and down to his arm, lacing into his hand as I led him forward.
His stubble had grown dark in the days since we’d left Calder, a mischievous shadow surrounding his mouth. “Do you enjoy blindfolding me?”
My mouth curved. “Do you enjoy asking stupid questions?”
Dark curls hung over my black sash, a flush of gooseflesh fanning from his neck and disappearing under his shirt, the texture of his skin so rough I almost wanted to smooth my thumb against it, or my tongue.
I took another step, and he inhaled sharply as the water drank him fully to the waist. “What a clever way to avoid giving me an answer.”
I rolled my eyes, and though he couldn’t see it, his mouth widened arrogantly.
“I knew you’d probably like taking control of me, but I didn’t realize you like it enough to evade the question.”
I pulled him deep enough that my feet lost the river rock. “I didn’t evade the question. Come here so I can breathe for you.”
“Still evading,” Kye said, following me deeper.
He was tall enough to comfortably stand, his mouth out of reach, and he knew it.
His taunting smile delved into the side of his cheek, the small shadow of a dimple flashing.
“Which part of me makes you most excited? Is it my shoulders? I have very nice shoulders.”
I shook my head, hauling him forward until he was up to his neck. “Come here, lout.”
His teeth were very white against the dark water. “The lines along my abdomen? I’m very proud of them. They point straight to—”
I yanked him down, hooking my arms behind his neck.
“Is it my hips?” he said, softer. Rougher.
“It’s your mouth,” I whispered, anchoring my weight against him as I leaned in and drove a slow kiss against his lips. “I get excited to silence it.”
“My mouth can do a lot of things while I’m blindfolded,” he murmured against my lips.
“Hurry up,” Aegir said as he stroked past to dive under the surface. “Let’s go.”
I turned back to Kye. Later, I commanded—or perhaps promised—guiding his head below the water so I could breathe into him.
His arms wrapped behind my back, relaxed, his body languid against mine.
I spun around, weaving his hands over my shoulders to rest against my chest, and found Kolibri waiting for us.
Perch wriggled in the mud below, leaving trails in jiggly lines. Trout nosed the rocks, waving patches of weed in search of rubbery worms. They darted as we approached, mouths open to stare up at us from their hiding places.
The world below the river was a spectrum of green and gray, silt thick as we passed the hours diving below, taking short breaks for Aitne to warm me.
One day ticked by, then another. Rust announced itself along the riverbed in red and yellow patches, stained by metal knives and swords long since lost to the secrets of the water.
The cold stroked my hair and skin, my muscles constricting against the bite of it. I’d taken the lead with Kolibri, but something made me slow.
The perch and trout had vanished.
Water rushed past, dragging my hair and clothes like wind over a mountain. Sunlight filtered from above in broken strands. But the rest of the river was still.
Quiet.
Cold.
A cloud of disturbed silt traveling downriver stretched for us like a tendril of mist. Kolibri’s ears flattened. She lowered her head, tracking the haze as it expanded like a murky exhale. Her body went taut, and I pulled my weight to the side, guiding her to the river wall.
But there was no avoiding the gust of dark algae and sediment. It engulfed us, drenching us in cold.
Kolibri bucked.
I hung on, wrapping her reins around my forearm, bracing Kye to ensure he didn’t float away. The water slowed her movement, but she bucked again, the snap of my own teeth slicing into my cheek forced a small puff of blood from my mouth.
“Kolibri,” I coaxed, my voice lost under the water. “Kolibri!”
But the dark cloud plumed around us, thickening. It burned my eyes, the bitter chill setting ice to my veins. From my periphery, Aegir swept in, long braids floating behind him as he tried to grab hold of Kolibri. She reared, and I finally flew off.
I tumbled, scrambling to cradle Kye’s head as we were flung to the rocky side of the water.
Sharp protrusions stabbed and sliced, pain flashing from my spine up my back.
Kolibri darted in the direction we’d come, and I was only vaguely aware of Cebrinne tearing after her.
Shapes hovered in the edges of my vision, the faces of my Naiad friends leaning in to scan for injury.
Kye’s cheek against my chest, I stared through the muck above toward the surface.
The sky had been erased.
Light glowed from above, abstract and opaque. The way an oil lamp’s light dims after a cloth is layered over it. Pushing through the worried faces to the surface, I pressed my palm into a thick blanket of ice.
Olinne and Nori followed me, a blindfolded Diara in tow behind them.
The underside of the ice sheet was sharp, tiny serrations spiraling slowly. It was growing thicker. I turned to face them as Aegir joined us, eyes wide at the ice. It spanned the entire surface, from both sides of the river.
The Videre pounded on the sheet with a single fist. But it wasn’t enough to break through.
He cast about the riverbed, assessing the loose rock.
I glanced behind us, the sun now blocked by the ice above.
I didn’t know how far the ice traveled ahead, but we’d only been swimming a few minutes since my last break.
If we backtracked, we could find an opening and come up with a new plan.
Follow me, I said to Nori, hiking Kye higher on my shoulders and turning back.
She and Olinne trailed me through the cloud of green, and when I glanced back, the others had followed as well. I searched for Kolibri and Cebrinne as I swam, hoping to catch a glimpse of blue-black hair from either of them.
But I ran into something else instead.
A Naiad.
He appeared through the silt—a shadow at first, then a siren fully formed—too quick for me to avoid colliding into him.
We hit so hard I bounced off his frame, but with Kye at my back, I didn’t go very far.
The Naiad reached for my neck with a single, clawing hand.
I swerved, and he grabbed Kye’s wrist instead.
Before I could wrench away, he turned, dashing into the haze. Taking Kye with him.