Chapter 21
They made it to the treeline just before nightfall.
By the time they had found a suitable campsite, the world had turned silvery white.
Wind and snow hissed through trees. Snow was falling in heavy clumps, freezing Mirielle's hair and leaving flakes on her eyelashes.
Mirielle shivered when Reis helped her down from Hank.
She tried to hide it, tried to straighten as soon as her boots hit the ground.
But a violent involuntary shiver wracked her body anyway.
"You're freezing," he said pulling off his cloak and wrapping it around her.
"I'm alright," she said, but her voice vibrated against her body's shaking.
"You can barely speak." The words left him with more anger than he intended. Fear made him harsh.
Mirielle lowered her eyes at once and Reis's expression immediately shifted to regret.
"Sit by the fire," he said quieter this time. "Please."
Mirielle obeyed.
Kellan had already managed a small fire and had begun heating water. Reis began staking a large tent with the efficiency of a man warring with winter itself. Each iron spike was driven into the ground with a burst of snow.
Thunk
Thunk
Thunk
All of his attention remained fixed on Mirielle. She was still shivering, each trembling breath pulling his expression deeper into something dark and dangerous.
While Dane unloaded heavy sacks off the horses, Kellan chopped piles of firewood, set them down near the fire and started melting water in a kettle. Lettie began unfastening a bedroll from Maisey. Kellan swiftly ended that.
"No," he said, pointing a scolding finger at her.
"I know how to make camp."
"Sit," Kellan ordered. "Reis is paying me an extraordinary amount to be here and I did not bring you along as hired help."
"It's just a bedroll."
"You're cold. You've been shivering since sunset."
Lettie looked at him with enough violence to kill lesser men. "You are not my keeper," Lettie warned above the wind.
Dane huffed a laugh and shook his head at the snow.
"No," Kellan agreed, wrapping another fur around her, "but I'd still rather you not get frostbite out of spite."
"Kellan," Reis warned, "is the water warm yet?"
"Yes, your majesty."
"Then why isn't it in her hands?"
Kellan looked at Mirielle shivering and quickly poured two mugs of hot water for them.
"You can help with the essential task of emotional support." Kellan smiled and handed a mug to Lettie.
"That's not helping."
"It helps me spiritually."
Mirielle smiled in her cup and Reis eased but only slightly.
Dane had finished unloading the horses and was helping Reis pull tarps for the tent. Within minutes they had constructed a large tent close to the fire. It had heavy woven walls made of thick waxed linen and was supported by a single sturdy pole at its center.
Reis returned to Mirielle and delivered her to the tent, followed closely by Kellan and Lettie. The tent barred the wind from her ears and Mirielle's body shivered at the memory.
"How are you still cold?" Reis asked looking down at her.
"They're tiny," Kellan said, sitting Lettie far from the entrance. "Tiny people freeze."
"I'm right here," Mirielle mumbled weakly.
"No offense intended."
Reis looked furious with the weather itself and wrapped himself around her. Mirielle looked up at him.
"Reis—"
"You are not getting warmer."
"I will," she assured him.
"When?"
She shifted into him instinctively and smiled up at him, trying to soothe whatever storm was raging inside him. "I'm alright."
"Liar."
"It's not like you can bully winter into leaving."
His eyes flickered to the tent walls like he intended to challenge the storm directly.
Kellan brought in bedrolls, oil lamps and packs of food.
Wind ripped through the trees outside while snow battered the rough canvas. The warm light of the tent illuminated the freezing dark of the small clearing.
Dane made barley soup with scraps of dried meat over the fire. By the time they finished eating, both Mirielle and Lettie had finally stopped shivering.
*
The storm showed no sign of ending. Wind howled a low groan through the clearing. The fire fought for its life beneath the wind.
Dane slept near the entrance, wrapped like a corpse in furs. Snowflakes drifted in front of the entrance and clung to his hair and cloak.
Reis and Mirielle occupied the far side of the tent. Mirielle was asleep curled deep against his chest while Reis lay awake keeping watch over the storm.
Which, unfortunately, left Kellan acutely aware of the fact that Lettie had fallen asleep right beside him.
At first he pretended not to notice, mostly because she had only agreed to share blankets after approximately forty minutes of arguing and one threat of violence.
Now she slept curled on her side, her blue rabbit-fur hood pulled over her head. Kellan lay with his hands tucked into his hair, staring at the ceiling smugly.
Victory.
A fast gust of wind rattled the tent, sending cold air slipping through the entrance. Lettie moved only slightly closer to him.
Kellan went utterly still.
Then, slowly, he looked down. Lettie had unconsciously shifted toward his warmth in her sleep, one hand now lightly curled against the blanket just next to his ribs.
Kellan forgot how breathing worked.
He looked across the tent. Reis met his gaze. Kellan’s expression became unbearably smug. Reis instantly wished he had his own tent. Kellan mouthed, she likes me. Reis rolled his eyes so hard it was practically spiritual.
Kellan looked back down at Lettie, still asleep, curled slightly against him and something deeply ridiculous happened inside his chest.
Another blast of cold wind rattled the tent. Lettie curled closer again, her fiery red eyelashes now tickling his ribs before she settled again.
On the outside, he remained perfectly calm, which was a stark contrast to whatever lunacy was happening internally. He simply reached down and pulled the blankets more securely around her.
Then Dane opened one eye from across the tent, saw Kellan’s expression and immediately regretted being conscious.
“She curls toward warmth!" Kellan whispered, absolutely beaming.
Dane closed his eyes again. “I am begging you to survive this quietly.”
Kellan ignored him.
Lettie made a soft, sleepy sound and shifted even closer, her fingers now loosely gripping the fabric of his shirt.
Kellan stared down at her in absolute wonder. Then, very carefully, he laid his head down on the bedroll behind him.
He spent the next three hours awake in the storm, freezing on one side, unable to feel his right arm, and happier than any sane person should have been.
*
Dane sat like a sentry watching the fire. He sat on a log, his elbows braced against his knees. Snowflakes riddled his hair and cloak with frost, covering him like white cold fur. Each slow breath curled white fog into the air before the wind tore it apart.
Snow swept endlessly through the clearing, hissing rivers across the ground and wrenching groans from the towering pines. Beyond the firelight, the world dissolved into shifting shades of grey and white.
Dane was used to it.
He had slept half naked under snowbanks before, had traveled with Reis all over the Sleeping Kings. This was nothing to him.
The peaks of the Sleeping Kings had snowfalls that buried roads under drifts as tall as houses. Those mountains were cold and cruel. This was just weather.
Reis had left hours ago to scout the surrounding forest, leaving Dane on watch while Kellan kept the girls warm inside the tent.
He closed his eyes and listened. To the forest. To the sky above him. The fire. He heard trees groan, the storm rage, the fire fleeing the wind.
And beneath it all, he heard Mirielle's breathing, soft and even. The sound remarkably gentle.
She was sleeping soundly under a pile of furs large enough to cover a bear. Her face tucked somewhere in Reis's cloak. Something about that hurt. Not because she was sleeping peacefully but because she could sleep near him at all.
He didn't deserve it.
Shame twisted in his chest. He remembered the way she cowered from him, her panicked breathing, the way she had clung to the wall in that alley like he might strike her.
Or worse.
Self-disgust curled cruelly inside of him.
Just then, a fast wind blew over him, forcing the fire down for only a second.
Mirielle tensed inside. Dane saw it through the opening in the canvas. Her spine stiffened. Her shoulders tightened beneath the blankets.
The fire recovered and she visibly eased.
And so did Dane.
He watched the treeline, wondering when Reis would return. He could hear Kellan's soft snoring, Lettie now burrowed so close to his side she might as well be a part of him.
Another gust of wind hit the fire. Mirielle tensed again. This time, a small, frightened noise escaped her. Her fingers gripped the furs tighter.
Dane's attention snapped to her as worry crossed his features.
He had seen men do that at war camps before. Men twice her age and battle-hardened. Unable to truly sleep because of never-ending impending violence. Always because of some old fear, some battle that destroyed a part of their soul. The fear never gave it back.
He shifted in his seat as he felt something chew a hollow into his chest. He remembered Reis's warning that she had lived her life in fear. Fear of large, armored men. Men that tormented her. Men like himself.
Quietly he stood, crossed the clearing and threw more wood onto the fire until the flames climbed higher against the storm. Then he quietly climbed into the tent and lit the oil lamp near her. Flickering warmth filled the tent, covering the furs and sacks with soft gold.
He looked down at Mirielle. The tension in her face softened, her fingers loosened only slightly from the blanket she had been clinging to.
He returned to the fire, closed his eyes and listened.
He heard Reis before he saw him, snow crunching under boots. He appeared through a wall of grey with snow clinging to his hair and armor.
His gaze swept the camp—the fire, the tent, then Mirielle.
Always Mirielle.
"Storm shifted north," he said in a low voice. "We'll be here tomorrow." Reis's attention went to the lamp in the tent.
Dane saw it.
"She sleeps better with it on."
Reis stared at it for a second, then nodded. "You did well." He rested his hand on Dane's shoulder briefly before returning to the tent and removing his armor. Inside, Mirielle stirred as Reis positioned himself behind her.
"Reis?” she mumbled sleepily.
His entire expression softened. “I’m here.”
The remaining tension left her body so fast it was almost painful to witness.
Outside, Dane stared into the storm while behind him blankets rustled softly and Reis’s low voice murmured her gently back to sleep.