“I have never killed anyone before.”
There’s a moment of quiet. I’m not sure if he was even watching me, but then…
“You did what you had to do.”
He was watching.
“But it was not enough,” I reply after a long moment. “I killed everyone in my village.”
He stands and comes to sit on the stump beside me, elbows on his knees. “That isn’t true. Why would you think that?”
“I could have watched the waters. I could have seen you coming, seen you fighting, seen the Eastlanders chasing you. I could have gotten them out.” I fold my shaking hands together, and a hot tear slides down my temple. I scrub it away, but another takes its place.
This is one of those cresting waves. I can’t let it drag me under, but the truth is that Finn was right. I only think about myself.
Alexus leans over me, hair falling around his shoulders, and looks me steadily in the eyes. “You cannot carry that responsibility. We all face moments of decision, and when we look back, it’s so easy to think what might have been. But you didn’t know to look at the waters, Raina. You didn’t know.” He pauses. “If either of us is guilty, it’s me. I left an entire village to fend for themselves.”
“Littledenn?”
He nods, and his throat moves on a hard swallow. “You and I needed supplies, but when I left you at the stream this morning, it was because I had to know if they made it. They were all dead, and that is a loss I will never forgive myself for.”
I’d figured as much when he returned with the horses, and I see that same sadness all over him now. Much as I wanted to blame him and the Frost King—for everything—the tragedy we experienced in the vale lies in the hands of one man.
A man I pray is dead.
We’re silent for a long time, until my eyes are so tired I can’t hold them open any longer. I want to sleep, but it’s too cold, the ground too hard, bumpy with roots.
Alexus strides to where the horses are tied and removes the gambeson from Tuck’s back, along with the blanket from Littledenn. He spreads the quilted armor on the ground near a fallen tree and sits, leaning against the log, the blanket ready to spread over his legs.
With a gesture, he nods to the space beside him. “If you can stow away your dislike of me for a short while, we might both get some rest. The Eastlanders are far ahead of us, but I’ll still keep an eye out. And I will be ever honorable.”
Of all the events I could’ve imagined happening on this night, this was never one of them. But I’m tired, and a crow caws, and the leaves in that damned tree rustle once more. In the next breath, I’m there, half an arm’s length away from the Witch Collector, thankful for the giant who owned such a blessed garment as the gambeson.
Alexus spreads the blanket over us, and though it doesn’t stave off the cold completely, it’s enough.
I drift, watching the fire’s flames dance. When I finally close my eyes, a face appears in my mind’s eye. It’s distant and dim, but I know it.
The prince looms there, a bloody nightmare, watching me.
And from the abyss of sleep, he smiles.
15
Alexus
Frostwater Wood is my home. I’ve crossed its grounds hundreds of times, taken rest beneath its cool shade, hunted from within its shadows, traversed its floor in search of special herbs. It’s as much me as I am myself.
And yet, this morning, the wood is foreign.
Ahead lies a tunnel of trees and thorny brambles I can only discern thanks to daybreak’s weak light. Hundreds of interwoven branches arc across a leaf-covered path that leads to utter obscurity.
Or so it seems.
The magick radiating from the tunnel is so strong that the power prickles against my skin. The entrance all but writhes, like the branches only remain open to draw us in.
I pull back on Mannus’s reins, slowing him to a stop. So much for making it to my hunting shelter for better weapons before things get troublesome. This is certainly vast magick—a massive construct nestled in the wood.
A trap.
Mirroring me, Raina halts her mare. Both animals fall still with little effort. I’m sure they sense the magick too.
“This is not Winter Road,” Raina says.
“No. That it is not. It’s the darkness you saw in the waters, I imagine.”
She nods, but when wolves howl in the distance, sounding their morning wake-up call, she twists in her saddle.
“Aren’t you glad you didn’t run off alone?” I ask. “This is the land of the white wolf.”
I need to let it go, but even after our conversation and a few hours of sleep, I’m still bristling. It wasn’t Raina’s defiance that angered me. I like her fire—too damn much. Enough that it’ll burn me if I’m not careful. It was the idea of having to leave her to her fate that rattled me, and for no other reason than she’s too stubborn for her own good.
She glances to the right and left of the tunnel, where the wood appears ordinary and calm. Shafts of soft sunlight stream between the leaves and bare branches of the deciduous trees, glistening in the frost clinging to the evergreens. The morning is marked by birdsong and skittering animals, but I have a feeling that it won’t remain this innocent once we cross into the construct.
“I suppose you are going to tell me we cannot go another way.”
“There’s only one way, and that’s through,” I reply. “Even if we’d gone our separate ways, chances are we would’ve still ended up here. We just wouldn’t be together. This is the part of vast magick that can’t be changed if it’s meant to hold. The larger construct. It’s the smaller things within that the witches at Winterhold can manipulate as we pass.”
I know my witches. They’re cunning and strategic. I only hope they can hold this construct long enough to snuff out the Eastlanders. Vast magick is challenging to sustain for long periods. That is the true flaw in the plan.
Raina’s brow tightens with mistrust, but I’m right, and I know I’m right, so I turn Mannus to the left and guide him toward the peaceful woodland—an act of compromise and education. The tunnel shifts, heading me off, a gaping, lightless cavern waiting to swallow me whole. I redirect and head in the opposite direction, but again…
“The tunnel is everywhere,” I tell her. “That’s the magick’s design. To give the Eastlanders no other choice than to find themselves within the enchanted darkness of a hopeful tomb.”