Chapter 35 Stellen
Chapter Thirty-Five
Stellen
Cruel ice burns in my palms as I wait for Lilis to hobble across the snow toward me.
I continue to fight the intense need to return to Thyra, aware of her scrutiny as she remains where she is. Smart of her to keep her distance from Lilis, who limps as she moves toward me, an uncharacteristic admission of injury.
Now that I’m focused on Lilis, I rapidly consider everything about her. The cuts through the armor on her arms and shoulders—defensive wounds. The splatter of frozen blood across her chest and shoulders. The still-bleeding cut above her eye, as well as the bruises on her face.
Also, the fact that her sword lies in the snow several paces to my left, unusually abandoned.
She swipes at the blood trickling down the side of her face as she comes to a silent stop in front of me.
Tilting my head, I ask, “Where is your wolf?”
Her shoulders square with the smallest hint of defiance before she plasters her gaze to the ground. “Lord, forgive me, we were ambushed by the Northerners.”
Evasion.
My cold smile thins before I enunciate, “Where are all of the wolves?”
Every one of the six dead Frost Fae would have ridden a white wolf.
They would not have walked here. Yet none of the wolves is anywhere to be seen.
Not a single pawprint rests within the sphere of the battle behind me.
Which means the wolves left before the fight began.
Even Nara stayed outside the battle’s perimeter.
Lilis swallows, but her voice remains impressively even. “The wolves fled when the Northerners appeared.”
Not all of them. Nara remained.
“Frightened, were they?” I take another look at Nara and the notable absence of any blood splatter on her coat.
From across the way, my wolf returns my stare without blinking before slowly curving her body closer around Thyra, making a shield of herself.
“Yes, Lord,” Lilis replies.
Hmm.
“Well, then,” I whisper, “if this carnage was perpetrated by the Northerners, then you, Lilis, are to blame for it.”
She sways on the spot but doesn’t object. “Yes, Lord.”
“Northerners were sighted last night,” I continue. “You had sufficient warning. I commanded you to fortify our defenses. You should have anticipated an attack on this place. I trust you didn’t make the same mistake with my palace?”
“No, Lord,” she says, her voice stronger. “The palace is secure.”
“Good.”
I exhale softly and allow the silence to stretch, observing her increasing trembles.
“What punishment, Lord?” she asks, her voice more strained than when she was telling me untruths.
“Behind me are six dead highborn Frost Fae,” I say, trickling ice into my speech. “Their master will demand retribution.”
Lilis’s jaw tightens, and her fingers twitch.
I know her fears.
I’ve known them ever since I pulled her from her hellish existence and elevated her to the head of my army. Those same fears will have burned through her body during the battle on this field. She has no mercy, and for good reason.
Icy power sizzles within my voice as I say, “You will have the bodies collected, coffins prepared, and ensure these men are returned to their master for burial.”
“Yes, Lord.” She pauses. Her heart speeds up. “Am I to personally return these men?”
I consider the heightened anxiety in her voice.
The cruelest punishment I could bestow on her would be to force her to visit her former master.
But that’s an interaction I’ve ensured doesn’t happen. And won’t happen. I need her focused. Clear-headed. Not consumed by the past.
“You are not,” I say.
Her slow exhalation screams of her relief.
I lean toward her. “But this is not the end of it, Lilis. Cleaning up this field is only the beginning of your punishment. There will be more to come.”
I register the hitch in her breathing as I sweep past her. “Find your wolf. Retrieve your blades. I expect you to ride ahead of us to the palace.”
I’m already past her when she responds faintly. “Y-Yes—”
A thump sounds behind me.
My shoulders tense. I half-turn.
She has crashed into the snow, landing on all fours. Blood drips from the cut on her face, and her palms leave crimson smears across the ice as she struggles to push herself upright.
But it’s the wound across the back of her head that draws my attention now, a wound she concealed from me until this moment and which, even with my power, I did not detect.
Damn. It was a bad blow to her skull. Miraculous she survived. And now it’s apparent that her injuries are worse than I thought.
I can’t take her to a healer for the same reason I can’t go to a healer.
A wounded leader is a weakened leader, and a weakened leader is vulnerable. Likewise, the general of my army cannot be vulnerable.
I didn’t lie to Thyra about the harsh realities of my kingdom.
Across the way, Thyra has half-risen, as if she would lurch forward to help us.
I give her a sharp shake of my head.
Even here, where it is just the three of us—four, if I count Nara—our merciless reality prevails.
The corners of Thyra’s mouth turn down as she sinks back to the snow.
To Lilis, I say, “Get up.”
Her heart is pounding, but her next inhalation becomes a near sob.
Gratitude. Not pain.
If I thought her weak, I would leave her huddled in the snow. I would simply walk away and abandon her right here and now. I would not have commanded her as I just did.
With a whimper, she throws herself upright, her hand fluttering to the back of her head, a cry leaving her lips that cuts off abruptly as she clamps her teeth together.
Her chest heaves as she struggles to remain standing.
Taking a slow step to my left, I circle her, allowing my frost power to rise and strengthen, to flow through my body and radiate a chill into the air around me.
Lilis may fear my touch, as all of my people do. I’ve made it clear that my touch means death. But my ice may be of benefit to her now. Just as I used it to cauterize Thyra’s bite wounds…
With a casual sweep of my palm across the air behind Lilis’s head, I coagulate the blood still flowing from that wound. Then, as I round her, I sweep icy air across the bloodied cut on her face.
By sealing the wounds, I’ve given her body the respite it needs to heal. Highborn fae may recover faster than lowborn fae, but significant wounds like these take time.
Lilis’s thumping heart calms, and her sobbing breaths become quiet, although her purple eyes remain dull.
“Call your wolf,” I repeat to her, more softly now, but without a hint of pity. “Retrieve your sword. Then wait here until I’m ready to leave.”
My footfalls sink into the churned-up snow as I carve a path back to Thyra.
Along the way, I take note of Lilis’s faint whistle and how quickly her wolf appears in the distance and races to her.
Also, how fast the wolf sinks into the snow, allowing Lilis to climb up and lie across his back, her head on his neck.
I’m nearly to Thyra, conscious that Lilis is turned in my direction, and now I have decisions to make.
Always, I must consider my actions.
How I behave around Thyra now will send stronger messages than words ever could. Even in Lilis’s unwell state, she will be watching.
Reaching Thyra, I deliberately lower myself down into the snow, kneeling opposite her.
I choose an angle that allows me to keep Lilis in my sights.
I don’t miss the drop of her jaw.
I never kneel. Not to anyone. Ever.
By doing this, I’ve sent an unmistakable message to Lilis that will filter through to the soldiers in my army and beyond: Thyra is my equal.
Unfortunately, it will only put a greater target on Thyra’s back.
“Is Lilis okay?” Thyra reaches for me, her mittened hand extending toward me. An innocent gesture. But I quickly lean back, leaving her arm outstretched between us.
Confusion creases her forehead, and I know that, soon enough, I will need to explain the sudden change in my behavior, but…
Fuck, the weight of the dangers ahead of us consumes me. Not least because, despite all of my cautions, Thyra’s first instinct was to help Lilis.
I can’t keep the harshness from my tone when I ask, “You care about Lilis because…?”
Thyra slowly retracts her arm and leans against Nara once more. “Because I’m—”
Her mouth snaps shut.
“Not heartless,” I finish for her. “But I am. And so is Lilis. Make no mistake, she would strike you down in a heartbeat. Stab you through the throat, wipe the blood from her blade, and spare not a backward glance.”
Thyra’s focus shifts to Lilis, but her mittened hand brushes the coil of hair concealing the side of her neck. “You warned me to hide my wounds.” She pauses. “Lilis is visibly injured. That means she’s in trouble, isn’t she?”
“Yes. She’s in trouble. But as I said, you must not help her. Not even here, where it is just the three of us.”
Thyra’s hand drops to her lap, shadows forming in her eyes.
She’s quiet for a moment, her lips pressing lightly, her forehead creasing more deeply.
Then she speaks, slowly and carefully. “I would like to leave the bloodshed of this place, but I want to tell you what I saw in my Oracle vision. A version of the future that fills me with questions that may take…some time to answer.”
Her eyes meet mine, her chin tipped up.
If I could still feel compassion, I might admire how cleverly Thyra has aided Lilis. The longer we stay here talking, the more time Lilis has to rest and heal.
But in contrast, Thyra will weaken without food and water. The icy temperatures of my home may not have the same dehydrating effects as the Ember Kingdom, but thirst is as much a danger here as it is anywhere. Too many illnesses are carried in this snow. All water must be boiled before it’s drunk.
As for food, I can hear the rumbling of her hollow stomach, the strain on her body after she survived the night against all odds and now needs sustenance.
“We can stay,” I reply. “But only for a short time while you tell me what you foresaw.”
And then, once we’re on the move, I will tell Thyra what really happened in this field.
Her throat constricts audibly. “I foresaw—”
She closes her eyes and takes a breath, inhaling the air as if it’s the food she needs. When she opens her eyes again, the shadows in her expression are even darker.
“I saw countless versions of the fight with the Northerners, but the future I’ve now set in motion carries a threat I don’t understand.”
A sharp chill strikes my damaged heart, driving deep when Thyra asks, “What is the Winter Strife?”