Chapter 19 Thyra
Chapter Nineteen
Thyra
Thump.
I’m not strong enough to slow Stellen’s fall, able only to control my descent beside him.
He lands on his knees, one hand flying to his heart, closing over the top of my hand because somehow I’ve kept my palm to his chest.
Blood slides from one corner of his lips, enough of it to trickle down his neck.
“Stellen, let me—”
Instead of holding on to me, he wrenches my hand from his heart, his voice striking hard. “Do not help me.”
His speech carries power, forcing me to stop, but the impact quickly fades. Far weaker than before.
His porcelain cheeks turn a horrible shade of gray before his head bows and his hair slides across his face.
I’m certain that using his power drained him. “Conserve your energy.”
Maneuvering myself to his side, I reach out again, preparing to wrap my arms around him and help him across to the side of the clearing, where a discarded fur coat could make a good blanket for him to lie on. Although…it means getting past so many bones first…
He jolts away from me, nearly toppling himself. “Don’t.”
“Why not?” I fight to stay calm as I’m forced to hover beside him, doing nothing.
I want to respect his autonomy, but I’m certain his thinking is clouded right now.
A droplet of blood falls to the stone.
The corners of my mouth turn down. “Because you think asking for help leads to pain?”
“Always,” he says.
“Then don’t ask.”
He bares his teeth at me between the strands of his hair. “It doesn’t make a difference. You should never help me, and you should never…ask me for help. Pain will always follow.”
“Not this time.”
“Every time.” His gaze is unfocused, his eyes glassy.
I’m not sure if he’s even aware of what he’s saying anymore.
When I dare to angle toward his side again, he barely flinches as I draw his left arm across my shoulders.
His body is colder than it was before—a chill that seeps through my cloak.
I should probably be concerned that he could unleash his frost power without realizing what he’s doing.
That could be why he’s trying to warn me away from him.
He went to great lengths to keep me alive.
A shame to kill me now.
Pushing away my fear, I slip my right arm across his back, bracing against his weight and testing my strength to support him.
He tugs away from me, as if he’d rather collapse to the rock than accept any assistance.
I scan our surroundings for an easier option. The way is clear to the rock wall. It will be a slightly longer path, but I’ll also have something to lean back on.
Now to convince him.
On impulse, I turn my lips to his ear, brushing my mouth across his earlobe, conscious of his sharply indrawn breath.
“I’m not helping you, Stellen,” I whisper, again brushing my lips to his skin, the same gesture he used when his song kept me alive. “I’m telling you, as your equal, that I’m going to move you over to the rock wall and lay you down.” My voice hardens. “And you’re going to let me.”
My right arm is already secure across his back, and I’ve kept his left arm across my shoulders, but now I raise my left hand back to his heart, ensuring I have good leverage over his chest.
When he twitches again, I snarl into his ear. “If you continue to fight me, I’ll pick up your blades and ensure the Alak-Teah makes short work of both of us. Is that what you want?”
Softly, he huffs.
The resistance finally drains from his body, but the visible clamminess on his forehead worries me. A sharp contrast to the ice radiating from his chest.
Bracing against his weight, I push upward, knowing full well that I won’t be able to hold him up for long.
I need to make the most of the next few seconds.
As quickly as I can, I draw him toward the rock wall. One heavy step after the other, while my knees nearly buckle, and I barely make it there.
Rapidly twisting to the side so that my back is to the stone, I crouch, then lower myself down and him along with me.
“Lie down,” I tell him. “On your side. Head on my lap. Turned toward me so you don’t choke.”
It’s all I can do to pull one side of my cloak beneath his hips and upper legs before he reaches the ground.
His head settles on my lap, his hair sticking to his damp forehead and cheeks. His eyes are closed, and his breathing is ragged, but somehow, my left hand has stayed near his heart.
I keep my voice firm. “Now. Tell me: what’s wrong?”
He’s silent for a long moment before he speaks, a clipped explanation. “My heart was injured. Three days ago. An assassination attempt. Nothing new for me. But it seems that if I overuse my power—” He gives a short exhale. “Apparently, this happens.”
My mind whirls at his mention of an assassination attempt. An assassin killed my father. Another tried to kill me. Now it seems someone came after Stellen, too.
I can ask him questions later. For now, I focus on what I need to do.
Getting him to lie down was only the first step.
Carefully avoiding the word help, I ask, “What do you need now? Do you need water?”
“No,” he says. “I just need to rest.”
With excruciating slowness, he presses his left hand over the top of mine, covering his heart again, but this time, he doesn’t push me away.
He exhales heavily and lies still.
Carefully, I brush the hair from his face, checking his lips. No new blood.
“Well, then,” I murmur, “was that so hard?’
He doesn’t respond.
No whispered rebuke.
No warnings of pain.
A silence descends over us, but the calm feels as powerful as when he hums.
His silences matter.
I suppose mine do, too.
Oh, but what am I to make of him?
He tells me I’m his equal and that I don’t need his permission to act. But he warns me about asking for help, assuring me any request for assistance will lead to pain.
He fights to keep me alive, rubs warmth back into my feet, and creates a cloak that will protect me from the cold. Only to tell me that I must make myself as cold as he is.
He maintains he’s heartless, and he proved it.
And while there’s a part of me that wants to rail and scream at him for the way he cut Antony down…
Antony would have killed him, too.
Generations of enmity leading to death.
Tears slide down my cheeks as I accept that it’s impossible to reconcile any of it. I can’t accept Antony’s death. But I can’t hate Stellen for it, either.
Somehow, I need to discover what lies deeper than Stellen’s heart. I need to find out what lives at the soul of him.
I swipe at my tears and carefully pull my mitten over my bare hand without upsetting Stellen’s position. Then I adjust my hood, pulling it up behind my head, creating a cushion against the rough surface.
The stone isn’t comfortable, but I’m certain I’ll manage to sleep.
Many were the nights my father and I slept wherever we could.
Not only when we were on the run. Each time we settled at a new village, we had to establish ourselves again.
We rarely had any coin to pay for shelter, and even if we did, Father would use that money for food.
My calluses feel tight against my palms within the mittens.
Even when my father and I settled in a new village, it still felt like we were running.
Now, I find myself studying the mist around the three rock pools.
Logically, I should probably consider not the warnings Stellen gave me, but the ones he didn’t.
Not once did he warn me against trying to leave.
A complete opposite to Antony, who wrapped a ruby circlet around my wrist and chained me to him the first chance he had. And that was even after I told him I would submit to him.
Stellen hasn’t breathed a word about keeping me captive.
I haven’t made a single promise not to leave.
“Your heartbeats are heavy.”
Stellen’s ragged whisper makes me jump.
Taking a deep breath to settle myself, I consider him carefully. Forehead still clammy. Eyes still closed. Icy chest heavy where he lies against me.
“You can hear my heart?”
“I hear…the Alak-Teah scuffling in the far distance,” he mumbles. “I hear…the snowstorm tearing at the world outside this forest. I hear the shifts in your breathing and the…hmm…small changes when your heart speeds up…and even when your lips purse because you’re perplexed…”
I try to relax my mouth.
“Your current situation is untenable,” he murmurs while his eyes remain closed, his breathing more labored as he continues speaking.
“Instinct must be telling you to leave while you can. Logic will warn you that the environment can kill you. There’s no food in this forest—even if you thought you could hide in it.
“Outside, you face endless snow and again, no food. Worse, no fire to melt ice into water. Dehydration is a deadly risk across this frozen land stretching for miles. If, somehow, you make it back to the border, you will find the Iron Kingdom in turmoil. A new power struggle between Galla Vividari and whichever of her children is foolish enough to claim the throne. If you head north into the far wilds, you will come upon bloodthirsty beasts who will hunt you for sport.”
Antony warned me of malevolent beings that live in the northern wilds. He said they’re as feral as beasts but have the intelligence of fae. I’m certain he wasn’t referring to the Alak-Teah.
“That’s assuming you make it past any Frost Fae you might encounter.” Stellen speaks at a mumble now. “They will kill you on sight and…ask questions…later…if they even…bother…”
He doesn’t have to say more about the threats I’ll face if I leave. They’re too many.
Go or stay, what matters to me more than my freedom is to break the curse the False Queen placed on the Dragonstone Blade.
I saw the solution in a book called the Chronicle, which was written and illustrated by the Ferocie Scribes, an ancient fae tribe who infused magic into their artwork, much like the Lethians infused magic into their songs.
The message in the Chronicle was clear: to break the curse, break the blade.
What was done must be undone.
I must bring together the elements that were used to create the blade: the hammer, the dragonstone anvil, the coal, and possibly even a descendant of the fae who forged it.
The problem is…I found the hammer, but it crumbled to dust. That was after the dark runes etched on its side adhered to my arm.
Without the hammer…
Overwhelming helplessness sweeps over me. And then confusion, because a hammer so powerful shouldn’t have broken like that.
There has to be another way. A reason why the hammer crumbled. A way, perhaps, to reshape it, reform it, or even find a substitute.
I refuse to believe that all is lost.
Stellen’s breathing is deep. I’m not sure if he’s fallen asleep, but I speak softly. “I will make you a promise, King of Frost.”
“Promises…are dangerous things.”
His response is spoken slowly, but it confirms he’s still awake. Or maybe I woke him. He told me he doesn’t sleep through the night without listening for assassins, so it stands to reason he’s alert to the smallest sound.
I try to bring moisture to my mouth. “I want something from you and if you promise it to me, I won’t try to run. Not tonight. Not tomorrow. Not the day after. Not as long as your promise holds.”
His eyes open but only to narrow slits. His focus is dazed, his eyelids heavy. “What could you want from me, Thyra?” His lips twist. “I have nothing to give but pain.”
My hand cradles his face, my thumb brushing his temple.
He lies so still that I could believe he’s mesmerized by every breath I take…no matter how much pain he promises me.
Speaking slowly, I attempt to find a way to say what I need to say without directly asking for help. “You will enable me to break the False Queen’s curse.”
His narrowed gaze becomes piercing, although his voice is no stronger. “Enable…is a small step…from help.”
“That may be true.” I clamp down on my bottom lip because it doesn’t change the reality of my situation.
I have no family to fall back on. I lost Antony to the darkness that was consuming him. I have no allies. Maybe, if I imagine for a moment that Antony’s sister, Cassia, would help me, even then, I have no way to find her while she’s in hiding.
I speak a cold truth. “But right now, you’re all I’ve got.”
Stellen closes his eyes. His breathing deepens. He’s so calm that I’m suddenly unsure if he was actually awake during our interaction just now.
Then his lips move, his voice nearly too quiet for me to hear. “As are you.”
I’m…all he’s got?
My eyes widen. He told me that promises are dangerous things, but so are admissions. I’m certain he can’t have meant to say that aloud. Or maybe I misheard him. Or maybe he cleverly avoided promising me anything.
I’m ready to question him, but his head rests so heavily in my lap, all tension gone from his limbs, that I’m now completely certain he’s asleep.
I guess that’s a good thing. He’s injured and he needs to rest.
But the absence of his voice opens a silence that fills with the unwanted memory of the False Queen’s first whispered words to me.
The three kings seek your destruction. You must destroy them before they can destroy you.
My actions have already led to Antony’s destruction. Before I came into his life, his vampyric nature was under control. He was beating it.
I ended up doing what the False Queen said I would.
I ruined him.
Unintentionally. Unwillingly. Stellen and Antony came face-to-face because of me.
I tried so hard… Fought so hard…
How do I beat this curse? How?
Sorrow claws at my heart, and my head bows so far that my forehead touches Stellen’s.
Now that he’s asleep, he’s as vulnerable as he might ever be.
He warned me he would cause me pain.
But…
How much cruelty will I bring to him?