Chapter 20
I am going to save them. I am going to save them.
I repeat this mantra as I cross to the other side of Rerta.
I’d snuck into another inn and allowed myself a few hours’ sleep before beginning the journey, hoping the cost of time was worth being in a fit state to travel, but dawn remains distant on the horizon.
Despite the early hour, activity hums across the city; an increased presence of wardens patrol the streets, while laughter rings out as people prepare for tonight’s bonfire.
Goodness is possible, and I am going to save them.
My pace falters when I exit the city and the path opens out into sparse fields, only a few small farms dotted around the landscape.
Cattle moo in the distance. Behind them, snow-capped mountains stretch upwards, their peaks tall enough and sharp enough to rip through any cloud drifting across their path.
I won’t have to climb to the top to reach the settlement on the other side – a pass is carved through the middle, once to allow Souleaters in and out to conduct their business, now for travellers to come and gawp at the ruins and to ransack abandoned homes for leftover loot, but that doesn’t do much to instil confidence in my ability to make this journey.
The path is steep and partially obscured by a thick mist. It would help if I had any experience in hiking, mountain climbing or quests in general.
Footprints are embedded in muddy patches of the path, and I can’t help but wish a set belonged to Astin, as futile as that might be.
He’s probably slaughtering a den full of Souleaters right this very moment.
My fingers tremble as I pull a scarf from my bag and wrap it around my neck before venturing towards the mist, hoping those footprints are recent. I need to catch up.
Easier said than done. I rear back as two familiar figures emerge from behind a bush. Nuri, in short sleeves for once, with her belt crammed full of knives. Cale is similarly armed, his lips curling into a snarl at the sight of me. I guess his opinion hasn’t improved since our last encounter.
‘You might be too late,’ Nuri tells me, gesturing at the footprints on the ground. ‘A group of contestants found a stash of potions buried near Clarabelle’s old residence. They’re hours ahead of you.’
‘I’ll walk fast.’ I try to sound unconcerned, but the chances of me catching up to them are slim.
It shouldn’t matter – the sooner someone gets the cure, the sooner those captives can be let out of Eira’s cage.
But the selfish part of me still wants to win.
If it takes every last drop of the cure to remove Eira’s powers, the inn is the only thing I’ll have left. I need that reward more than ever.
Which means I need to get Nuri out of my way. ‘Is there a reason you’re not trying?’
‘Stash was cleared out by the time we got there. We don’t have the items.’ She sucks in an impatient breath, and then her gaze sharpens. ‘But I think you do, don’t you? Why don’t we come with you?’
‘So you can run off with the cure and claim the reward, you mean? No, thank you.’ I move to go past her, needing to overtake the others, but she immediately steps into my path.
‘You’re not going for the reward,’ she accuses.
Cale cracks his knuckles, and I realise they must think I’m some angry Souleater, or Soulbeast, or whatever she wants to call me today, determined to destroy the cure before it can be used against me.
Grinding my teeth, I say, ‘Yes, I am. You don’t have to worry. I’m not like other Souleaters, I swear I’m not. I’m glad the cure exists. I would never destroy it. I want –’ I break off, but she’s somehow able to infer what I’m thinking.
‘You want it for yourself.’ Her eyes widen. ‘You think it’s actually –’
‘What I think is none of your concern,’ I snap.
‘You have no idea what it’s like to worry all day, every day.
Worry that you’ll hex someone. Worry someone will find out what you are and hate you for it.
Worry that even if you never use magic, you might be inherently wrong.
Because a good person shouldn’t have the ability to do what I did in that maze.
Of course I want the cure. Now get out of my way. ’
I shove her for good measure, but she’s built like an ox and I have the strength of a gnat. She doesn’t react to my pathetic attempt at violence, and instead says in a quiet voice, ‘You have access to magic, Daisy. You really don’t think you can do any good with it?’
Cale scoffs, the first noise I’ve heard him make, and she frowns in his direction, while I press my lips together, refusing to answer the question.
If someone had asked that before I left Shiverholde, the answer would have been a resounding no.
Now I’m not sure. Between Ozias’s golden potion and the book I read in Eira’s house – maybe even Howard’s diaries, too – it feels like something better was possible, once.
But I don’t know how to be better. I hexed an innocent girl, and for a moment, I’d liked the taste of it.
I wanted the power. I proved all the stories I’d been told about Souleaters true.
So has Eira, with her wraiths and her basement full of captives.
If better ever existed, I’m not sure how to make it exist again.
‘Look, if you’re not going to listen to me . . .’ Nuri’s fingers toy with the hilt of one of her many, many knives. ‘I don’t want to hurt you.’
‘That’s good. I don’t want you to hurt me either.’
‘Then hand over your items,’ she says. ‘Because I need to get to that temple. I’ll help you afterwards, with . . . whatever you need.’
I shake my head, taking several steps back. She can threaten me with all the knives she likes, but there’s no scent of bloodlust in the air. She’s bluffing. I check the path ahead, debating whether I can outrun them. My bag is a weight around my shoulders.
Nuri has the audacity to seem annoyed by my lack of compliance. ‘You’re as stubborn as that friend of yours.’
‘What friend?’
‘You know. The one you were in the woods with. He was here, with the group who’d found the stash. None of them would agree to share either, but he was the worst.’
I frown. The only person she saw me in the woods with was . . .
‘Why do you look confused?’ she continues. ‘He was dark-haired, wearing some ugly brown shirt.’
Fog fills my head. She’s talking about Astin.
Astin was here. Astin was on this mountain.
He didn’t go back to Shiverholde.
I wrap my scarf tighter around my throat. ‘I have to go.’
I need to find him. To tell him . . . I don’t know. But the fact he didn’t leave, didn’t go chasing after Souleaters, but instead continued on the search . . . that has to mean something.
‘Daisy –’ Nuri calls out, and I’m not sure if it’s to plead with me some more, or to issue a warning, because suddenly Cale is there, lunging towards me as though tired of the conversation.
Well, I’m tired of them delaying my trip to the cure. My salvation. My inn. My Astin.
A puff of shadow fills the air. A leftover dreg from the magic I harvested in the maze. It’s unintentional, startling me more than anything, but it’s enough to make Cale pause in his tracks, giving me time to spin on my heel and sprint for the pass.
An arrow flies past my head. Shit. Faster.
I need to be faster. The pounding footsteps at my rear come unmistakeably closer, and I shoot out another blast of magic, on purpose this time, and I risk a glance over my shoulder to see it hit the cliff on one side of the pass. Rocks tumble in Cale’s path.
Dust sprays as they land, shielding him from view, but his frustrated roar tells me it’s the best chance I have.
I push myself harder, not knowing how long it’ll take him to clear those rocks, wanting to create as much distance between us as possible.
Sweat beads on my brow, and I regret both the scarf and the cloak, but I don’t dare stop to remove them. Not until I’m safe.
It’s only when I’m gasping for air, calves burning and a stitch pinching so hard it’s like someone has rammed a giant pair of tweezers into my insides, that I pause for breath. Bile rises in my throat. Oh, I am not built for exercise. And to think, some people do this for fun.
But I’m alone, at least. Wind whistles against my ears, whipping my hair against my face.
The city is no more than a speck in the distance now, and there are no figures chasing me through the mist. Some of the tension in my body eases.
At least, until I spot the grey clouds overhead, thick and swollen, ready to burst.
Ugh. I trudge on, hitting snow at last, ankle-deep in places, and I wrap my arms around my middle.
The sky darkens before I ever truly saw the day as I plough on for hours, and then the clouds unleash themselves.
It’s hard to tell if it’s rain, ice, snow, or some combination of the three; I just know everything is wet and freezing, and my teeth are chattering so loudly I’m able to hear them over the howl of the wind, the splattering of liquid hitting my face, the –
‘Daisy.’
I halt at the sound of that voice.
Astin.
I spin round. It takes me a while to find him, sitting on the ground, resting against the cliff, chest heaving.
The relieved sigh that escapes my mouth is short-lived, because he looks terrible.
In a still infuriatingly attractive but having a bad day kind of way.
Purple rings hang beneath his eyes, like he hasn’t slept since we parted.
There’s a dark stain on one of his thighs. ‘What happened to you?’
‘I joined a group of contestants who’d found a stash of potion bottles.
Ozias’s name was scrawled on the crate. We stopped for a rest, and I tried to slip away, to get ahead and find the cure without them, but they caught me sneaking off and –’ He groans as he adjusts his position, placing his hand against his leg.
Blood pools around his fingers. ‘They stabbed me and stole my pack.’
‘Hexes, Astin . . .’ I reach out, then change my mind, my hand hanging limply at my side. ‘Why are you here? I assumed you’d left for good.’
‘Why do you think I’m here?’ is the clipped response. ‘I wasn’t letting you do this alone.’
I gape at him. Despite everything, warmth suffuses my chest. Does this mean he’s forgiven me? Or, at the least, couldn’t bring himself to leave me unattended up a mountain, in case something terrible happened?
‘So are we –’
‘Can this interrogation wait?’ It’s not a snap, but it’s close, and some of that warmth cools.
I wish I knew if he regretted being here because he’s ended up stabbed (understandable), or that now he’s seen me, it’s brought back every reason why he left in the first place (not ideal).
‘I think I can walk, if you help me up. We could still catch them.’
‘We?’ I try to keep my voice steady.
He works his jaw, and I hold my breath, hoping, waiting, wishing. A sweet scent lingers in the air, lighter than mist, but it makes me lick my lips, wanting to taste it forever. He came back.
‘You’re here now. No point going separately.’ He clears his throat. ‘I promised I’d save your inn, and I keep my promises. It doesn’t mean anything.’
But it does.
He also promised to track down the Souleater who killed his sister, and not for the first time, he’s forgone that promise to help me instead. That’s not nothing. That’s everything. I grin as I haul him upright, something stronger than magic rearing its head inside me.
Hope.
‘Whatever you’re smiling about, stop it,’ he says, hissing as he adjusts his weight to his non-injured leg. ‘We need to be quick if we want to – Daisy, you’re still smiling.’
‘Sorry. It’s just . . . you’re here.’ I risk squeezing his hand, and although he flinches, he doesn’t pull away. ‘I thought you’d hate me forever.’
There’s a too-long pause where I think he’s going to contradict me, but all he says is, ‘We should leave before it gets any darker.’
Some of my hope threatens to burn out as I watch him limp away, but then he stops, tilting his head enough for me to see his profile, the bridge of his nose, the angle of his jaw, before saying, voice the softest it’s ever been, ‘I could never hate you. That’s the whole problem.’