Chapter 47 No More Room for Risk
No More Room for Risk
Caramyn
The rest of the day was awkward, tense, and almost more unbearable than the bitter chill of the mountain. No one spoke. No one knew what to say.
By nightfall, Asterious insisted that they leave as soon as possible, despite his injuries.
His reasoning being that they would heal quickly regardless, and that he couldn’t give Sinevia any more time to steal the Veil’s power and build her army.
Though Caramyn didn’t doubt that was part of it, she found it far more likely that he just wanted to get away from this place that had stirred up so many horrible memories and uncovered one too many dark truths.
She couldn’t blame him. She was more than ready to return to the witchlands, and eventually, the Woods.
She’d thought about it all night—about the Shadowblood’s Blade.
If it was as powerful as Asterious said, then perhaps it could save him from the Blackheart.
Perhaps he’d already thought of that, too.
Perhaps he hadn’t. But either way, whether he admitted it or not, it was yet another reason to find it. Another reason to try.
As they sat around a fire that night, Nocthar fluffed his feather, perched on Caramyn’s lap as she shielded him from the evening breeze. In what was the first attempt at breaking silence amongst the three of them all day, Zera spoke up, poking the fire.
“You won’t be able to cross these mountains the way you came with your Kuhrissi. It’s far too harsh. And the skies are showing signs of a blizzard soon. Get caught in that and there will be nothing you can do to keep her from freezing to death.”
“I know,” Asterious said, elbows on his knees as he stared into the flames.
“Then, how do we get back?” Caramyn asked, not directing the question at either of them.
Zera smacked her lips and pointed out into the horizon of white nothingness where the edge of the mountain awaited.
“Take the mountain path back down to the docks. Best to travel at night, just to be sure no one from Ironfell is passing through for trade. I’m sure they’re keeping an eye out for Hrothvor’s lilac-eyed assassin. ” She gestured to Caramyn
“If women are sold to these clans, won’t they find it suspicious that one is trying to leave?” Asterious asked flatly.
“They will. But you might find a fishing boat with a captain named Veylan there. Tell him Zera sent you, and he’ll take you wherever you need.”
“Then we’ll leave tonight,” Caramyn said without a hint of hesitation. “We can take the horse. Asterious, you can pretend that I’m your captive to at least throw off suspicion.”
“It wouldn’t be the first time, strangely enough.” Asterious grumbled, and for a moment, the weakest smile flashed across his face.
“Very well.” Zera slapped her hands on her lap and stood. “Narahbi and I will go and prepare some food and supplies for you. I’m very glad to have met you both.” She disappeared into the tent with Narahbi in tow.
Asterious went to tend to the horse, and left Caramyn sitting in the company of only her raven.
She watched the prince, his movements slow and stiff, likely from the soreness of his muscles and the stitches pulling at his skin.
Caramyn stood as Nocthar fluttered off to the tent, and pulling her coat around herself, shuffled over to Asterious.
“Need a hand?” She asked, already determined that she was going to stick around regardless. “Just because it won’t kill you, doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.”
Asterious was silent as he picked ice crusted from the horse’s hooves and picked up a brush. Caramyn walked around to him and touched his wrist before he could swipe the brush across the animal’s coarse fur. He glanced away, but not before she could glimpse the shine in his bleary eyes.
“Don’t do this to me,” she said. “Don’t come all this way for me and then act like you can’t even look at me. Whatever it is, whatever is hurting you…you don’t have to face it alone.”
“If I don’t face it alone, everyone suffers.” He brushed the horse with quick, defensive strokes. “It is my burden. And mine alone to control. No matter how painful.”
“Who told you that?” Caramyn’s face hardened.
She already knew. “Was it Wyran? Was he the one who trained you to stuff down every inkling of emotion? The one who told you to abuse yourself to learn to drown out your own feelings? Because how’s that working out now?
It appears to be destroying you far faster than the Blackheart ever could.
” She noticed the way he flinched. “You think the answer is numbing yourself to pain and fear. But in doing so, you numb yourself to the good feelings, too—to happiness, to joy, to…” The word snagged on her tongue, and she realized she’d been speaking faster than her mind could keep up.
But Asterious was looking at her now, waiting every so intently for that last word, and she couldn’t leave him empty.
“to…caring deeply for someone,” she said in place of the real thought she left lingering on her lips.
Asterious stopped brushing the horse and turned to face Caramyn. He gripped her shoulders, firmly, desperate and slow, with intention.
“You think I don’t care deeply for you?” he breathed.
“You are a thorn in my side. And yet you are also the rose. And you are the rain that falls on its petals, and the sun that warms its leaves and lifts the world from the night. You are the ruin of my existence. Where once I knew my purpose, and my duty, now I am hindered by you in every step because...because...to say I merely care for you is not nearly sufficient.”
He flexed his jaw and flared his nostrils, as though trying to cage the next words as he held her gaze through those eyes holding back an ocean. Then his hands slid from her shoulders, and Caramyn could have sworn they were trembling.
“Caring deeply is exactly the reason I must stay away from you. The feel of your skin ignites me in ways I cannot explain. Your touch is a relentless pull toward tragedy. I cannot risk what could happen if I were to…to…lose myself.” He glanced down at her lips with hunger in his eyes.
“I must protect you—I will protect you. And that means even from myself. I’ve lost my mother.
I’ve lost everyone I ever cared about. I will not lose you, too. ”
Asterious went back to brushing the horse, and Caramyn stood, something in her shattering like ice. “The Shadowblood’s Blade can save you. I believe it has to. If it’s enough to pull Sinevia from the darkness, it can surely save you.”
“Maybe it can. Maybe it can’t…but Zera was right. If I kill one more time, whether in this form or the other, the chance will be gone. For me, for Sinevia, and for Evylere. There is no more room for risk.”
Caramyn searched the furthest reaches of her mind for something to say, for anything she could possibly grasp to counter what he said, but deep in her heart of hearts, beyond the shadows that shrouded her own soul, she knew he wasn’t wrong.
If they ever allowed themselves to give in to that pull between them—to that abyss they both ached to fall into—it could destroy them both, along with the very kingdoms they were trying to save. And she would be the reason for it.
It only made sense. She was a Shadowblood. And Shadowbloods always brought ruin.
“You’re right.” It was all she could manage to get out. “I’ll go help pack. And don’t worry,” she said, her voice tired and heavy with so many unspoken thoughts. “I’ll tie my own hands up this time.”
And she turned away, leaving footprints in the snow as she trudged with slow, half-hearted steps back to the tent.
When they’d packed enough dried meats and bread for the journey, and a few extra coats and cloaks, Zera and Narahbi sent them off with gentle, heartfelt goodbyes.
Zera reached in for an embrace and wrapped her withering arms around Caramyn in a way that reminded her of the warmth and comfort of her mother. Then she handed her the unstrung bow.
And as they loaded Caramyn onto the horse, wrists loosely bound and her cloak hood pulled over as far as it would go, she addressed Asterious one last time. “I’m so sorry for what I’ve done to you. I hope you can forgive me.”
Asterious, silent and somber, dipped his head towards her in a nod. “The Shadows have a way of tempting the best of us. You were only trying to save me. I forgive you for that.”
Zera sniffed, dabbing a tear at the corner of her eye.
And then, just before they turned away to take their first step out into the mountains of the Spires alone, she paused, drawing a steady breath as though this might be the last kindness she could offer.
“My final words to you both—the darkness that marks you does not define you. What you do in spite of it, does.”
Caramyn uttered the delicate syllables of the Silverean word of gratitude. “Inejiah. Thank you for everything, Zera. Truly.”
And then they set off for the mountain pass, Nocthar flying above and leading the way.