Amid the Winter Snow

I slept on and off all day. Ami sent Skunk to help me, the young guardsman irritatingly cheerful about his own injuries. Still, he had the strength to brace me to use the chamber pot—a good thing as I was weaker than I’d thought. Standing up nearly had me on the floor. Would have, if he hadn’t caught me.

Preparations for the Feast of Moranu—already the following night—sounded to be well underway. And Windroven wasn’t as badly staffed as I’d feared, or as Ami had made it sound. Could be that had been a product of my fever-muddled brain.

That first venture out of bed exhausted me enough that I crashed into sleep as soon as Skunk got me back in it. When I woke again, I remembered that I’d driven Ami off before she could unwrap my arm to check it. The light had dimmed considerably, likely late afternoon sliding into evening, the blizzard raging unabated. The sound had leaked into my dreams with its roaring and howling.

It only makes them want more when you scream. When they can make you cry and plead.

The worst possible time for those ugly old memories to rear their monstrous heads. I’d put all that behind me. Maimed and scarred myself to do it. Taken refuge with the monks and a vow of silence to quiet that howling within. Wretchedly unfair that they should return to haunt me now.

Perhaps Glorianna had determined to punish me for my infidelity to Her. When I’d broken my vow, it had been—at least in part, I’d justified to myself—to help Her avatar. And the goddess had seemed to be in favor of that. But I’d strayed from Her exclusive service too long. Overstayed my welcome with Ami and tested Glorianna’s patience.

The goddess had reminded me that I remained a savage, twisted beast in my heart, and there would be no healing from that.

It was awkward to do alone, but I got the bandages off, studying the arm in the low light. A bruised and bloodied mangled mess. More purple and black now, and distorted with swelling. But I could at least wiggle my fingers, if not fully flex them. The movement pulled with agonizing tightness. No fresh blood welled, however—and no sign of pus or the black ichor. The flesh seemed to be knitting together well enough.

The chamber door creaked, opening a hand’s width, and a mountain lion cub strolled in on too-big paws, surveying me with predatory eyes the same color as her mother’s. “Heya, little Nilly,” I said, surprised to see her back already. I’d figured she’d avoid me for days yet. “Have you been a cub all this time? You know that’s not good for you.” I wondered if Ami knew.

She padded over and leapt onto the bed, craning her neck to sniff at my arm, and I braced myself. Her muzzle wrinkled in feline disgust. But she climbed up onto my lap, nudging my good hand with her head, so I rubbed her ears. A purr welled up and she draped herself over my lap, nudging at the wounded arm, which I’d moved aside. She reached out a cupped paw, tapping my arm, trying to pull it closer.

“Silly Nilly,” I whispered. “What are you doing?”

She purred louder and determinedly wrapped both paws around my forearm, rolling onto her back and dragging it to lay across her furry fawn-colored belly. I winced in anticipation of her going into a feline attack of hind claws and biting, but she licked my arm, rubbing her whiskers against it.

And the pain eased. So much so that the sudden abatement startled me. Drowsiness followed, irresistible and dragging. Unable to resist, I fell into a deep sleep.



“Here you are. Bad kitty!” Ami was whispering, trying to be quiet. She had been—it was Nilly’s growl that brought me to instant alert. “I mean it, Stella,” Ami hissed. “You come here right now, young lady. You know you weren’t supposed to come in here.”

“It’s all right,” I said, and Ami glanced up, startled. She had hold of two of Stella’s paws, trying to ease her out from under my arm. “Though she’s probably been a cub long enough. I’ve lost track of time.” I squinted at the clerestory windows, which had gone dark, white flakes hurling themselves against the glass and into the shadows again.

“We’ve been searching the entire castle for hours.” Ami planted fists on hips, glaring at her daughter in exasperation. “Someone isn’t getting any dessert if she’s still a cub, I know that.”

Stella popped into human shape again—wriggling and naked toddler—throwing her arms around my neck and planting a kiss on my cheek. “Ash,” she proclaimed.

“Yes, sweetheart,” I gave her a one-armed hug. “Go with your mother now.”

She planted one more kiss on me, jumped off the bed, neatly ducking Ami’s grab with shapeshifter speed, and darted out the door, black hair flying and tiny butt twitching. Ami stared after her in dismay. “I’ll be so happy when she learns the Tala trick of shifting back with something to wear. She’s a princess, not a naked hoyden.”

“She’s a baby,” I replied. “She can run around naked for a few more years before she has to worry about her gowns all the time.”

The wrong thing to say because Ami fixed me with a withering glare. Oh—that’s right—she was no doubt still mad at me from before. “She is not a baby,” Ami informed me. “Not anymore. And you spoiling her won’t help her character any. I should know.”

“You’re not spoiled, Ami.”

“I was—something you pointed out any number of times.”

“Well, I was wrong. How many times do you want me to apologize for how badly I treated you?” I needed to get up and move. I threw back the covers, and swung my legs over.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“If we’re going to fight, I want to do it standing up. I’m tired of lying abed.” Like a weakling. I didn’t say it but Ami’s expression softened. “Plus I have to piss, so you might want to absent yourself.”

“Do you need help?”

“No, I don’t need help.” Though once behind the screen, I leaned against the wall. She didn’t say anything, which made me think she’d left. But when I emerged, she was sitting in the armchair she’d slept in while keeping vigil, looking forlorn and far too young.

“I don’t even understand why we’re fighting all the time,” she said, sadly enough to wrench my heart.

I blew out a breath, sat heavily on the side of the bed. “Because I’m an ass.”

She smiled a little, as I’d hoped, but grew solemn again. “You are an ass, but that’s not it. We just can’t seem to stop taking bites out of each other and I don’t understand why.”

“Maybe because we’d resolved to part ways and now we’re forced together again because of this.” I lifted my arm as I said it. “We know in our hearts that we shouldn’t be together, and so—”

Ami’s eyes had grown wide. “Ash!” she interrupted. “Your arm.”

I looked at it, ready to see whatever new damage had appeared, but it… looked so much better. No longer so bruised, the lacerations more knitted together. Experimentally, I flexed and curled my fingers, finding I could very nearly make a fist. I met Ami’s astonished gaze.

“Stella,” I said. “Guess she has healing abilities along with the empathy.”

Grace Draven, Thea Harrison, Elizabeth Hunter, Jeffe Kennedy's books