He rubs his hand over his face and pulls his fingers through his dark hair, which falls loose to his shoulders. “How long have you been there?”
I completely lost track of time while I was touching him. “Only a few minutes? Oskar—”
He pulls his knees to his chest, like he needs to put a wall between us. “Did you see . . .” He clenches his teeth. “Why did you come out here? Can’t you respect a man’s privacy?”
“I wanted to help,” I say, edging a little closer.
His brows lower. “I don’t need any help.”
“It looked painful.”
He grips the fabric over his shins and looks away. I can tell he’s thinking about the ice, how it waits for him to slip into dreaming so it can carve the meat from his bones. But then his eyes narrow as his gaze abruptly returns to me. “Did you just do something to me?”
“Why, was something different?”
“Why are you answering my question with a question?”
Because I have been holding them in for so long. Too long. I wipe my palm on the sleeve of my gown. “I merely touched you. I wasn’t trying to hurt you.”
He glares at me. “It might have hurt you.”
If Raimo is right, it can’t. But Raimo also told me to tell no one. “I didn’t realize touching your face could harm me.” I try to sound teasing, but my voice is too unsteady for that.
He grabs a tie from his satchel and pulls his hair back. “What possessed you to touch me at all?”
“I saw what was happening to you, and I wanted to make it better.”
The corner of Oskar’s mouth twitches, and he gives me a bemused look.
It makes me bold. “It’s getting worse, isn’t it? I can tell.”
The look becomes a scowl. “It’s none of your business.”
“Tell me what you are.”
He groans. “I’m nothing,” he says, rising from the ground and holding his hands over the fire.
I get up too. “I don’t have contempt for magic, Oskar. I might be nonmagical, but I don’t have any prejudice against magic wielders. Surely you’ve seen that by now.”
“I need to hit the trail. The snow will make it slow going, and I want to be back before the sun sets.” He tries to step around me, but I don’t get out of the way.
“None of the other wielders are suffering like you.”
His mouth draws tight. “I’m not suffering.”
“I would never hurt you, Oskar.”
“I don’t know you. And you don’t know me.”
“Why are you trying to hide what you are?” I blurt out.
His gray eyes turn hard. “Why are you so nosy?”
“Why are you so scared?”
“Why are you being such a pain in my arse?” he snaps.
As I gape at him, he lets out a harsh chuckle, takes me by the arms, and starts to move me aside. But anger flashes in my chest. I have no right to his secrets, but I’m driven by the memory of his agonized expression, of the ice freezing his skin, of how terrifying his dreams truly are. And if I’m right about what just happened, then I can help him. I grab at his hand, clamped around my upper arm. My fingernails dig in as I try to get free.
His skin flashes cold, and then his eyes fly wide. “No,” he whispers, grabbing my sleeve and pulling my hand from his. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to do that. . . .” He flips my palm over.
He slides his finger over my skin, then gives me a searching look.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“Tell me why Raimo didn’t heal you with magic.” His voice is low as he moves even closer, towering over me.
“I asked him not to—”
“You’re lying.” He grabs my left wrist and tugs my palm toward him, then touches the center with his fingertip. I understand that it’s cold like I understand that grass is green, but I don’t feel it. What I do feel: the danger. I rip my hand from his grasp and stagger back.
He tilts his head, staring at the spot he touched. I squinch up my face and rub at my palm. “Ow,” I whimper.
“I didn’t affect you at all,” he says, reaching for my hand again.
I cradle it to my breast and retreat until my legs hit the stone wall that surrounds the shelter. “Of course you did.” I moan, wishing I was a little better at pretending. “I—”
I stare at his broad chest as he gently takes my left hand in his considerably larger one and turns my palm upward again. The only things that mar my skin are my hard-earned calluses. The center of my palm is soft and smooth and warm as he traces it with a cool finger. “Tell me what you are,” he whispers.
“Nothing.” Tears sting my eyes. You could be their most powerful asset—or their worst enemy, Raimo whispers in my thoughts. Why did I risk revealing myself? So stupid. I clench my fist, as if hiding it will make him forget. “Oskar, I’m sorry for touching you, sorry for asking questions, sorry for everything, but I can’t—”
He holds up his hands. “Stop.” My mouth snaps shut. He smiles at my obedience. “Wait here.”