Chapter Ten
Snow gathers against the tree, creating drifts where branches meet ground. Soon the horses are fetlock-deep. I stuff my hands
into my armpits and keep my eye to the sky, watching for lightning.
I don’t have the right gloves, the right boots, or even a decent coat. If we don’t find shelter soon, we’ll die.
If only I could use my Gift to make things warm. Now that would be a useful magic.
Apple shakes his head in sudden distress. The hair on my arms stands on end. I peer through a haze of wind-whipped snow toward
the horizon. Something flashes, igniting the bellies of the clouds with sickly green. A moment later, thunder splits the air,
and it’s so loud and deep it feels like a kettle drum in my chest.
“Dammit, where are you, Titus?” No choice now; we have to leave. “Let’s go, boys,” I say, untangling Blackwind’s reins from the branch. “We’ve only got a few minutes to find a
real shelter.” I lead them away from the lightning tree, scanning the area for an overhang, a big boulder, anything that could
provide some protection.
But I see nothing. Just endless granite and slate interrupted by the occasional stunted tree, with snow accumulating in every lee and branch and crack.
It’s like the whole world has gone gray and white and featureless.
If all else fails, I’ll hit the ground, make myself as flat as possible, and pray to all the gods I’ve ever heard of that the horses will survive on their own and the snow won’t bury me alive.
I push through snowdrifts in the general direction I saw Titus go. Flakes attach to my eyelashes. With snow coming so fast
and thick, we could lose each other. It’s best to stay right here where he left us, or else chance never meeting again.
Apple tosses his head, nearly pulling the lead from my hand. Lightning flashes again, distant and otherworldly. The ensuing
thunder comes right on its heels, which means the heart of the storm is close.
That does it. Deathsworn assassins be damned. “Titus!” I yell, loud as I can. Sound carries strangely in these mountains.
My voice seems muffled by the storm, but I well know that it could be heard miles away. “Titus!”
Thunder bursts around us. Blackwind rears. He calms easily when I pat his nose and speak soothingly, but my heart is sinking.
There’s no way I can keep hold of two panicked horses. If I don’t find Titus soon, I’ll have to let one go and hope the creature
follows. But follows where? I’m running out of time to—
A gray shape appears out of the snowy whiteness, and I nearly jump out of my skin before recognizing him. Oh, thank the gods.
“Titus.”
Snow covers his hair, his face, blankets his shoulders. “I found a cave,” he says, grabbing Blackwind’s reins. “Let’s go.
Quickly.”
“What? How?”
“Hurry.”
He makes no move to mount, just pulls Blackwind forward, expecting me to follow, so I do. We veer left, away from our snow-covered
path. Soft powder crunches beneath our boots. Titus moves unerringly, even though we’re heading toward a massive drop-off.
The gray-white sky looms large as the land before us slopes downward, then plunges into a deep canyon, the bottom of which
is lost to snow flurries. Maybe this is what it’s like to stand on the Edge of the World, feeling nothing but air, seeing
nothing but emptiness.
“Careful,” Titus hollers through the wind. “The trail is icy.”
I see no trail, no possible way forward, just rock and snow edging up to endless sky.
Titus’s body dips. No, he has stepped down. Blackwind stops short, refusing to follow, but Titus tugs on his lead and says
something, and the horse hesitantly complies, stepping gingerly.
I go next, pulling Apple along. I don’t see the trail until I’m right at the edge. And calling it a trail is truly generous.
It’s more like a tiny ledge, hugging the slope at a diagonal, barely wide enough for one horse or one human at a time. Another
hour of snowfall will blend this ledge into the cliffside so thoroughly as to be invisible—and impossible to navigate.
We descend with agonizing slowness, for the path is rocky and uneven, coated in a slick layer of snow. I keep so close to
the cliffside that my right shoulder brushes rock. I make its solidness my focal point. Otherwise I’d have to face the reality
of the massive empty chasm on my left.
Something shifts beneath my step; my ankle twists.
My foot starts to slide. Gravel dislodges from my path and skitters away.
I whirl toward the cliff face and reach for something, anything to hold on to.
My hands find icy rock, but it’s flat and slick with snow and my legs slip out from beneath me until I’m on my knees, then on my belly, scraping closer to the edge, one foot dangling over nothingness.
“Bria!” Titus calls, but he’s too far away to help, and Blackwind stands between us on the narrow ledge.
My slide stalls. I breathe deep to get my bearings, telling myself not to panic. It’s a moment before I figure out why I’m
still alive. Apple has saved me. My grip on his reins never faltered, and he has planted himself on the path, neck stretched
out. My anchor.
“Good boy,” I say, my voice tremulous. Holding tight to his reins, I leverage a knee beneath me. Then the other. “Such a good
boy.” My heart pounds so hard it feels like it will tumble from my chest and right over the cliff. “All the treats of the
world will be yours, Apple,” I gasp out as I gradually, carefully, rise to my feet.
“Are you all right?” Titus asks. He’s on hands and knees now, like he was about to crawl beneath his horse to reach me.
“I almost died, is all,” I yell through the storm. “Nothing to be alarmed over.”
And I swear to all the gods, he actually cracks a smile. His forehead touches the rocky earth for just a moment, as though
relief makes his head too heavy to bear, and then he does the hard work of getting back on his feet while having absolutely
no room to maneuver.
“Please tell me it’s not far!” I call out.
“It’s not far.”
But it seems as though an hour of slow, careful cliff-hugging descent passes before Titus suddenly disappears. My mind understands
that he must have reached the cave entrance, but it’s still disconcerting to be suddenly alone on the edge of the void.
Then Blackwind disappears too, and it’s all I can do to take my time, to step carefully. Finally the ledge widens, and my
precious focal wall takes a sharp right. I curve around, still snugging up to it as close as possible, and discover a mini
plateau, already knee-deep with snow, and a tall, narrow blot of darkness beyond.
My relieved breath is more like a sob. I push through the snow, following tracks laid by Titus and Blackwind. For a brief
second I worry that the entrance is too narrow, that Apple will balk, but no, he is just as eager as I am for shelter, because
he closes the distance between us and his hot breath coats my neck.
The roar of wind wanes as I enter. Meager light from the stormy day does not penetrate far. A high, narrow corridor extends
only a few paces before veering slightly left and opening into a wide, dark cavern. I can’t see more than that, but distinct
scents reach my nose, and Apple’s too, to judge by his sudden fidgeting: musk. Urine. Scat.
“Titus?” I call out softly.
“Here,” he answers from somewhere ahead.
“This is an animal den. Probably ice cat. Whatever lives here may still be home.”
“It’s not.”
“How can you be—” A spark sears my vision, then Titus blows gently. “How can you be sure?”
“I already cleared the cave. When I found it earlier.”
“Oh.” I pull Apple toward Titus’s voice. His pile of kindling begins to glow softly, and it’s such a warm, welcome, wonderful
sight that I almost accept his explanation at face value. “Wait. Did you find anything? Did you have to kill something? What
if—”
“Bria, you’re safe.” The fire casts enough light now for me to make out his big bear shape. He rises, sighing. “Can’t you
just leave it at that?”
I open my mouth to protest but decide against it. “Where did you get so much firewood?” I say instead, looking around. The
cavern is oval shaped, with an uneven floor strewn with detritus. Mostly leaves and dry pine needles, but a few bones too,
including the skull of a mountain goat, intact except for the giant hole made with an equally giant fang. At the far end,
the ground is fuzzed with shed animal hair.
“I suspect water washes through here during the spring.”
“A perfect place for an ice cat to raise her cubs?”
He unhooks Blackwind’s saddlebag, then reaches for his girth strap. There’s plenty of room in the cave for us, our horses,
and all our gear. Just no food.
I ask, “What did you do with the ice cat?”
Titus heaves the saddle from his mount’s back and sets it on the rocky floor. “I told you to leave it be.”
“It’s just that if the carcass is somewhere nearby, I could butcher—”
“It’s not coming back.”
“The fresh meat would save us!” My suddenly shrill voice echoes back at me. The cave is even deeper than I realized. “And
the pelt. Holy Cerastes, that pelt could buy us two weeks’ worth of supplies at least.”
“I don’t eat ice cat.” His face is suddenly fierce, his eyes bright with mania. I resist the urge to step back. “I didn’t
kill her.”
I continue to stare at him, not sure what to say. I had no idea a royally Gifted prince could be so naive. Even if he chased
the great cat away, what’s to stop her from coming back?
“We’ll manage,” he insists. “I’ll find something.”
I’ve said my piece, and I won’t be a nagging banshee, even if our lives are at stake. Titus says to trust him. He says he’ll
find something. As his sworn shield maiden, I’ll take him at his word.
“In that case,” I say at last, “we should save whatever food is in our pack for our horses. No telling how long we’ll be stuck
in this cave.”
“I agree. It’s just . . .” His hand goes to the amulet at his neck. “I’m running out of time.”
Of course I have no idea what that means, but I sense I’ve already reached my daily quota of asking questions, so I store
that one away for later. “Thundersnows don’t last too long,” I tell him. “A few hours at most. It’s the snow that could trap
us here.”
The fire is downright cheery now, illuminating the walls of our cavern.
A dark space behind Titus indicates that it stretches a long way, maybe even opens into a larger space.
Driftwood lies strewn across the right half of the cavern, where the floor is slightly depressed, creating a natural path for floodwater. Plenty of wood to last.
“We’ll stay the night,” Titus informs me.
“Unless we’re snowed in,” I amend.
“We won’t be.”
How in two moons can he know that? My bewilderment must be apparent because he says, “Bria. I know you’re confused. I know
some of my decisions are baffling to you. I appreciate the way you’ve trusted me so far. I hope you can continue to do so.”
It’s as long and frank a speech as I’ve ever heard from him. I know the right response is “I do trust you,” or “Don’t worry,
Titus, I believe we’ll be fine,” or “Can I make you some tea?”
What I say is, “I know something bad happened to you. Something that hurt your heart. But all the men I’ve ever met think
their pain is the greatest pain in the world. They use it to justify treating people badly. For instance, not telling their
sworn shield maiden information that is crucial to their quest. I must be honest with you, Titus; your pain is making you stupid.”
He gapes at me. “You have no idea what I’ve been through or what—”
“Sweet holy moons, I don’t care. I trust you have good reasons for everything you’re doing, but you would be smart to extend some trust to me too.”
He studies my face for a long time, eyes narrowed, firelight dancing across his features. I expect he’ll either blow up at
me or sulk away like a small child. Finally he says, “You’re right. Not showing deference is a particular specialty of yours.”
I force myself not to smile.
“I’ll take your words under advisement,” he adds.
It’s better than I expected from him. “All right. I’m going to feed the horses the last of our grain, eat a bit of jerky,
then try to get some sleep.”
He’s still staring at me. “When you wake, we’ll begin your lessons.”
“Lessons?”
It’s his turn to corral a smile. “You’re my shield maiden now. Am I right in guessing you’ve never held a shield in your life?”
“True. Neither have I held a sword. But a lifetime of innkeeping has made me deadly with a wooden ladle.”
“Good to know,” he says solemnly. Then he explains, “It would put me at ease to see you attain passing competence with the
defensive arts. You may have deduced by now that my aim is a dangerous one.”
“Yes, I had deduced.” I reach into my saddlebag for the remaining grain. I’m still elbow-deep when Apple and Blackwind start
jostling for space at my shoulder.
“Normally I’d train you with the bow,” he says while I offer grain to the horses, palm flat against accidental nips. “Someone
with no combat experience is best suited to a ranged fighting style. At least at first.”
“But not me?”
Titus grabs his bedroll from the back of his saddle and flips it out. “Your Gift is an incredible fighting asset. Together
we’ll devise a close-quarters style for you that will take advantage of it. You naturally move with quick efficiency. With
grace.”
“I do?”
“You might do well with an attack-and-evade method. Darting in, attacking, darting out of reach. I know a few forms we can
try as a test.”
I have no idea what he means by “forms,” but I nod, saying, “Sounds like fun.”
“It will be arduous.”
The grain is gone. I wipe my hands on my pants and tie up the saddlebag. The horses look on forlornly. “I won’t lie, Titus.
Being in that cage wrecked me. But when I was healthy, I could carry laundry, scrub tables, heft tankards, and plow the garden—all
day long, without breaking a sweat. With continued rest and food, I won’t let you down.”
“I know you won’t.”
I grab a few bites of deer jerky and chew slowly to make it last. It’s not nearly enough, but I don’t dare consume more.
I flip my own bedroll out as near to the fire as I can, enjoying the feel of warmth against my hands and cheeks. It’s not
even early evening, but my body aches with weariness, and the thought of stretching out by the fire and dozing off feels like
the most delightful opulence.
Saddlebag tucked beneath my head for a pillow, eyes drifting closed, I hear Titus whisper at my back. “Bria.”
“Hmm?”
“I’m ill practiced at trusting people. Just . . . give me a little time.”
“You’re running out of time, remember?”
He says nothing, and I happily float away.