Sig and the others go quiet after a while. The woods are silent but for the lonely hoot of an owl somewhere in the distance. The noise in my head is relentless, though. The Saadella’s cries, the Kupari’s despair. The air is frigid, making my toes numb and my right hand tremble with the stabbing pain the cold always brings. The temperature seems to drop with every minute that passes.
A quiet moan comes from across the clearing. I peek from my cloak. The still forms of the wielders are scattered near trees or by the fire. Usko is snoring now, as is Jouni. Mikko and Tuuli are wrapped around each other. And Sig . . . his white-blond hair makes him easy to spot. He’s asleep far from the fire, shirtless on this winter night. His pale skin shines with sweat as smoke rises in lazy tendrils from the cloak on which he lies.
He’s burning from the inside out. He’s suffering like Oskar does, only from flames, not ice.
I could go to him and relieve his pain. I could take that inferno inside myself and tame it. He’s asleep, unable to hold it back. I sit up. When he twists, caught in the fire, I see the silver scars on his back. The pain on his face almost draws me across the clearing.
But knowing his plans for tomorrow keeps me where I am.
I won’t be used. I won’t help him sow chaos and misery in the city. Carefully, I rise to my feet. My cloak makes almost no noise as I pull it from the damp earth. My fingers fist in the furry garment as I take a step backward. No one moves.
They probably assumed I wouldn’t have the strength to run. Or maybe they know I have no place to go. But right now that doesn’t matter, as long as I’m far from here. I take another step back. And then I turn around and tiptoe out of the clearing. I move slowly, terrified of waking the sleeping wielders. The farther I get, the colder the air, and I shiver as I pick my way along.
I hear the soft footfalls too late. Someone barrels into my back, and I fall forward as his hot hand slams over my mouth. “No you don’t,” comes the deep sound of Jouni’s voice. “Sig said I should watch out for you.” He chuckles. “Stars, I feel it. Exactly what Sig described.” His palm flashes hot against my skin and flames shoot from between his fingers. “Who says I can’t manifest fire?”
My fingernails tear at the soft ground as Jouni yanks me up. I slap and kick with everything inside me, my screams stifled by his merciless grip. From the warm bursts of air around me, I think Jouni’s trying to subdue me with heat, but when he realizes it’s not working, his arms clamp hard and hurtful around me. He wrenches my head back. “There’s a stout length of rope back at camp, and it’s got your name on it.”
He starts to drag me backward, but then he staggers suddenly and drops me. I hit the ground face-first, and my hood flops over my head. I push it back to see a dark shape towering over Jouni’s hunched form. I shove myself to my hands and knees just as the fire wielder lunges, wrapping his arms around his attacker’s waist. But the man drives his elbow between Jouni’s shoulder blades, dropping him to the ground. Jouni rolls over as the other man descends—and closes his large hand over Jouni’s throat.
“Stop fighting me,” Oskar whispers as he leans close to Jouni’s face. “You have to stop, Jouni.”
But Jouni doesn’t. Pinned to the forest floor by Oskar’s powerful grip, he kicks his legs up, thrashing wildly, trying in vain to shout for his friends. His palms sizzle as he clutches at Oskar’s cloak, filling the air with the scent of burning fur.
Oskar shushes him, the sound full of desperation. “Please stop fighting,” he begs as Jouni’s eyes go wide. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
Jouni’s fingers push through the holes he’s burned in Oskar’s sleeves. His knuckles are bloodless. The glow in his eyes slowly dims. His heels leave deep grooves in the dirt, and then his legs go limp. But his arms stay anchored to Oskar’s until the ice wielder pulls away. I cover my mouth as Oskar rises to his feet, leaving Jouni on his back, his eyes wide and frosted over, his arms outstretched. The top half of his body is frozen solid. “I’m sorry, Jouni,” Oskar mutters. He turns around, his jaw clenched.
“Oskar . . .”
He holds his hand out. I take it, and he pulls me to my feet. “Can you run?”
I nod. He tugs my hand and breaks into a jog, and I lift my skirt and follow, praying the struggle didn’t wake the others. I’m shaking with what I just saw, with the knowledge that Oskar has killed again—and with the wretched understanding that he has done this terrible thing for me. My heart pounds in time with our footsteps. Finally we reach a wide trail leading south out of the woods, and I squeeze his hand. I’m stronger than I used to be, but I can’t run forever. Oskar slows. “Freya saw you take the road leading to the city. And then she watched as Sig ran you down.”
“How did you find me?” He found me. He found me.
“I went to Sig’s camp, but it was deserted, so I followed the trail to the city. I had just reached the square when the fire . . .” He pauses when he feels the tension in my grip.