“Fire,” I whisper, and yearn for the scorching heat of flames against my skin.
“We have to melt it out of her before it freezes her blood. It is going to hurt, but it has to be done,” the woman explains, her dark eyes filled with sympathy. She pats Golmarr on the shoulder. “I’m sorry, lad.” Turning from him she calls, “Enzio, come help this young man carry his wife to a wagon.”
A gangly boy about my age, with narrow shoulders and curly, dark hair, steps forward and carefully walks across the ice to us. He holds his arms out for me, but Golmarr doesn’t let me go. “Golmarr, I’ll be all right,” I whisper, running my stiff fingers through his hair. With a pained groan, he lets Enzio take me.
Despite his narrow frame, Enzio easily carries me to one of the biggest wagons. As the door shuts behind us, I can hear Mama giving orders to bring more blankets and hot broth to the wagon. Gently, Enzio lays me down on a bed and wraps the blanket securely around me, tucking it tightly beneath my feet. A woman enters the wagon with a brass bed-warming pan in her hands. She smiles at me and places the pan beside my feet. Another woman enters with a warming pan and puts it by my calves. More women come, each with a bed-warming pan, until I am surrounded on all sides. Next, they bring blankets and start layering them over me.
Enzio returns with Golmarr and helps him sit at a chair that has been moved beside the bed. Golmarr reaches beneath the covers and takes my hand in his.
“Your fingers are a little warmer,” he says. “How are your feet?”
I wiggle my toes and whimper as a gush of hot blood circulates through them. “They’re burning,” I say. Tears fill my eyes and trickle out of the corners. Each tear feels like fire on my skin. The scorching heat in my feet starts slowly flowing upward, making my legs feel as if the skin is melting from them. More tears fill my eyes, and then I start quietly crying. “It hurts,” I moan. “Get the covers off of me!” I start struggling against the blankets, but Golmarr stands and pins my shoulders down.
“You have to warm up,” he says, his eyes severe. I fight against him, but my body is still stiff with cold, and I can barely move. I wail and moan, and more tears burn their way down my temples and into my hair.
“It burns!” I shriek, thrashing against the covers. “Let me go!”
“I’m sorry,” Golmarr whispers, pressing more firmly against me. I arch my back and try to fling myself from the bed. “Enzio?” he yells. “Enzio! I need your help!”
Enzio steps inside and, without any instruction, pins my ankles to the bed. Kicking and shrieking, I try to break their hold until I am so drained I cannot find the energy to fight. Defeated, I close my eyes and sob while the heat pulses in time with my heart, and every pulse sends it higher up my body until it reaches my neck. When it gets to my face and scalp, the fire beneath my skin cools into comfortable warmth, and my eyes grow heavy. My body sags with relief, my eyes slip shut, and Golmarr cautiously lifts his hands from my shoulders.
“Here, have her drink this,” a woman says. Her voice sounds far away, but a moment later, someone lifts my head and presses a hot clay cup to my lips.
“Drink, Sorrowlynn,” Golmarr whispers. I part my lips and let a sip of hot, salty broth enter my mouth. When I swallow, I can feel the heat of it trickle all the way down to my stomach. I take another sip and turn my head from it. It is scorching my insides.
“We are warming water on the fire. When we have enough, we will put her into a hot bath.” I recognize that voice as Edemond’s. “Thank you for saving my people, Dragon Slayer. We are in your debt.” I crack my eyes open and peer through my lashes. Edemond is patting Golmarr on the back.
“I didn’t—” Golmarr says, but Edemond cuts him off.
“Of course you didn’t, Ornald. But whatever you and your love need, we will get it for you.” Edemond leaves the wagon, and it is just Golmarr and me inside. He leans forward and kisses my forehead, and I quietly sink into slumbering warmth.
“Bath time!” I jump awake and stare into piercing pale blue eyes. Melisande, Edemond’s wife, pulls my covers back, and I realize that for the first time in days, I am warm.
“I don’t want to get up yet,” I say, reaching for the covers. She yanks them away from me before I can pull them back on.
“We just spent an entire morning heating up enough water for you to soak in a hot tub. So get up.” She has her hands on her hips, and one of her toes is impatiently tapping the wagon floor.
She makes me think of Nona, and a smile pulls against my mouth. “All right.” I stand and stretch, and look for the tub. “Where am I to bathe?” I ask.
She grins. “Outside, of course. That way, when you are done, we don’t have to haul the water back outside to dump it.”