“There.” Elia held the woolen band back and turned it between her hands, inspecting her work. It was less impressive than anything she’d done back in her cousin’s shop, but the sewing kit she’d found in their supplies had lacked more than the very basics. Two colors of thread, a few needles of poor quality, a single wooden button. It had been enough for the most simple of hems, but nothing more. Would Thea have been proud, or embarrassed by the simple strip of fabric?
Cass glanced over his shoulder and gave a nod. If he thought anything of her craftsmanship, he didn’t share it. “I’m almost done.”
He’d settled down with his back to her as soon as they’d retrieved food from their bags, hunched over something that sometimes made an odd rasping sound as he fidgeted with it. She had chosen not to ask, remaining focused on the wool they’d cut from the bottom of his cloak. She’d mended that edge, too, so the wool would not unravel.
“I’m afraid it’s not very fashionable,” she said, contemplating her own cloak. Should she have made another? Her curly hair helped insulate her ears, piled up under her hood like it was, but she suspected a good hat would have been a boon. Why hadn’t the palace staff packed properly? Perhaps it was just that they hadn’t had enough time.
“I don’t care what it looks like. If it works, it’s fine.” He leaned forward a little farther, as if inspecting something. Then he tucked his knife back into its sheath and brushed around in the snow. Hiding something, she thought, though it seemed a pointless accusation. Maybe he was just burying crumbs. They’d both eaten in a hurry.
The thought of food reminded her of water, and she checked her water skin to see if it had thawed enough to drink while she sat with it under her coat. If she’d had a place to keep it tied where it wouldn’t interfere with carrying her bags, she would have kept it under her coat all the time.
Satisfied by how much it squished when she pressed her fingers into it, she unfastened the stopper and took a drink. The water was cold even after she swallowed, tracing a frigid line down to her belly. She grimaced, but continued to drink. The water would freeze again, so this would be the only chance she got. “Are winters like this in Nylmeres?” she asked between draughts.
“No. Most of the country is warm and wet. The winds from the Gold Sea keep the snows away, save for up in the mountains. And a small region near the border of Lyrangroth.” Cass sorted a few things back into his bags, his hands moving so fast that she couldn’t see what he’d been up to.
“You must hate the winter here, then.” Elia found the robust seasons Kentoria experienced delightful, but they were strange and harsh to everyone else. The tall mountain range separating Kentoria from the neighboring Nylmeres kept all their warm winds at bay.
He shrugged. “It takes some getting used to. I like the cold.”
“Is that so? I wouldn’t have expected as much.”
“Do you know where Merol is?” He pushed himself up from the snow, leaving his cloak and bags behind.
She shook her head.
“Biggest settlement in the north part of Nylmeres. Where my family is from. Land up in the mountains. It gets cold there.” He paused, then added, “Not this cold.”
Elia wasn’t sure how to reply. He’d volunteered so little, she didn’t know why he was telling her this now. Was it supposed to explain something? Defend his need for something to keep winter’s bite away from his ears? She mustered a smile and climbed to her feet as he approached. “Well, maybe you’ll be able to get some more fashionable ear warmers in Merol, then.”
She held up the woolen band and he bent at the shoulders to make it easier for her to place it on him. It slid smoothly over his dark hair and she tucked the tips of his ears beneath it so she could position it properly. It wasn’t attractive in the slightest, but it wasn’t as if it would be all that visible underneath his hood.
Cass adjusted the band, then gave a nod. “Better.” He straightened, but stayed where he was.
For a moment, Elia didn’t know what to do. With anyone else, she might have felt a need to shrink, to step aside and give him space. Standing beside him was different. He didn’t expect her to shrink, to smile, to acquiesce to demands and work her skills to please anyone. He simply stood, and for the first time, she realized it was different because he expected her to be there. To stand her ground, to occupy her own space. Space held for her, unthreatened and unoccupied by anyone else.
Yet there was something else, too. A sense of hesitance hovered in the way he looked at her, a reluctance to move away. She thought of the way he’d held her, how his arms tightened around her and refused to let go. It had been unexpected, yet not surprising, and she was ashamed to admit she hadn’t wanted him to let go, either.
He searched her face until his gaze settled on her lips, and her heart set to thundering in her chest.
Would he? Did he want to? They’d already stood in such proximity so many times, yet he never moved, never acted.
Maybe it was nothing. Maybe he was only lost in thought, trying to decide what to say when his words got stuck, the way they sometimes seemed to do.
And yet, she swore she saw his breath quicken.
“Cass?” she asked softly.
He swallowed and turned away. “We need to keep moving.”
A thickness rose in her throat, but she nodded. “Of course.” She wouldn’t pretend to understand. It was foolish to think she did. She gathered her things and picked her way along behind him.
The soft patter of droplets hitting snow kept the air from silence. Now and then, big drops fell from the trees and left dark splotches down the front of her coat and across the shoulders of her cloak. She thought Cass walked faster than before, but if the snow was melting, she couldn’t blame him. The snow was all they had to show them the way. If it disappeared, so did the only trail they had to follow. Or did it? She didn’t know.
“Cass?” She twitched as his name left her tongue, reminding her too much of the unanswered question he’d left hanging between them.
He slowed enough to look back.
“What do we do if all the snow melts? Will we still be able to find them?”
His dark eyes revealed nothing. No urgency. No concern. “There are ways.”
It should have been comforting. It wasn’t. “Have you followed people through winter before?”
Now his face grew guarded. He resumed walking, though not quite so fast as before. “I’ve followed people everywhere.”
“Do you always follow people?” It sounded like a foolish question as soon as it was out, so she added to it. “I used to think spies did all sorts of dangerous things, but Thea and Gaius said all they do is collect information.”
Cass snorted. “Asking them about me?”
Heat rose in her cheeks. She hadn’t meant for him to take it that way. “Am I not allowed to be curious? I’ve never met… that is, I don’t know anything about… what you do. I thought it might be more like what Gaius does. He said it’s not, but the two of you…” How was she supposed to ask after whatever incident had led to him crossing blades with her king?
He shook his head. “There are as many types of spies as there are spies in the world. We’re all different. Your king’s a spy, too. Just one that finishes his work with a blade.”
“And you don’t?”
“Not unless necessary.”
A shiver rolled through her. She held the front of her coat tighter, as if it could trap more warmth just from her squeezing. The next question crept to the tip of her tongue and hovered there, laced with sweet curiosity and a bitter warning that asking was unwise.
She let it free anyway. “Were you supposed to kill him?”
His next step came slower. The silence that followed grew thick.
Then his pace resumed, steady as ever. “You have no idea why I’m here, do you?”
How could she? He’d told her he was there to work, to help with sap collection, maybe the boiling of maple syrup. She knew nothing but lies and a bitter truth the king had provided to cut through them. “Should I?”
The sound he made was hard to label. Not a snort, not a scoff, yet both and something annoyed and frustrated all at once. “Kentoria isn’t the only country dealing with disappearing people, you know. After what happened to Aleron’s bride, King Valdessic—my king—believed Kentoria’s assassin was responsible.”
Elia’s brow furrowed. “Aleron’s bride? What are you talking about?” Aleron had been one of the kings before Gaius, well-liked by his people, for all that his rule had been short. Most of the Rothalan kings had held the throne only briefly. She hoped things would be different for Gaius.
“She was Nylmerian,” Cass said.
“Yes, I know that.” Everyone knew that. Eccenthe had been chosen to strengthen the bond between their two countries, though the royal marriage had not persisted long before Aleron’s untimely death. Without any heirs born to Aleron, Lucan Rothalan had been next in line, and he had been swift to return Eccenthe to her homeland. Elia paused, her brow furrowed. “Wait. What do you mean, she was?”
He threw her a glance over his shoulder, his grim expression telling her everything she needed to know.
Her heart lurched.
Eccenthe had been as loved as she was lovely. For the one-time Kentorian queen to have died…
“A rumor surfaced shortly after her return to the palace in Nythmar,” Cass said. “If true, and she really was with child, Lucan’s rule would have been threatened.”
“By the Light,” Elia whispered. Gaius wouldn’t have. Would he? She stopped in her tracks and gave her head a firm shake. No. Not the king she knew.
“So they sent me,” he continued.
Now her stomach roiled. To seek revenge? No wonder dealings with Nylmeres were so poor. Even her father’s merchant contacts had grown frosty toward them, when before, all their neighbors but Ranor had feared landing on Kentoria’s bad side. “To kill the king?”
He lowered his voice. “To find answers.”
“You can’t hold Gaius accountable for what Lucan did during his rule,” she protested.
His head lolled in a way she swore meant he’d rolled his eyes. “Your king was Lucan’s blade.”
To that, she had no argument. She blinked hard. Her eyes stung with more than just the cold.
At last, he stopped, seemingly realizing she’d fallen behind. He turned back and she expected a reprimand or some sort of difficult truth at the very least. Instead, he merely stood, his shoulders low.
“He’s a good ruler,” she said, knowing he would only think her biased. Her dear cousin was to be the king’s bride. How could she be anything but?
“And a good killer,” Cass replied. “But…” His eyes glazed and his brows drew together.
She clutched the front of her coat with both hands.
He stared at her for a long time, then exhaled hard. “They sent me for answers,” he said resolutely, “but I haven’t found any yet.”
Her breath escaped her in a rush, unexpected relief sapping strength from her limbs. “He wouldn’t have done that,” she insisted.
“I don’t believe he did.”
At first, Elia thought she’d misheard. She cocked her head to one side, inviting him to repeat himself.
He didn’t.
“I don’t understand,” she said. “You think he’s innocent?”
“No one is innocent, except maybe you.”
Her cheeks heated.
“But I don’t think he did this,” Cass went on. “I haven’t found any indication he had anything to do with Eccenthe’s disappearance. And the timeline for the other kidnappings doesn’t work. Most have happened since Gaius took the throne.”
“Which means he wouldn’t have been free to commit them,” she concluded. “I suppose people vanishing in Kentoria makes it less likely, too. He has no reason to kidnap his own people. And the group that took Peretor… They’re Nylmerian, aren’t they? Like you?”
The corner of his mouth drew back, not quite a grimace. “Not all of them. I think they were willing to accept me because I was, but there are Kentorians among them. A few Ranorsh, too.” Not that the Ranorsh looked that different from Nylmerians. They both tended to be dark of hair and eyes, with richer golden and olive tones in their skin.
Elia puzzled over the blend. It didn’t make sense. Ranorsh bandits might have; Kentoria bordered five countries, and until things had soured with Nylmeres, only Ranor had held the indomitable Kentoria in poor regard. Even then, they’d merely been mildly antagonistic, not outright hostile, and after Gaius had been given a proper coronation, his friendship with one of the Ranorsh princes had improved those relations.
Her cousin’s story of meeting that prince sprang to mind now, and Elia found herself looking at Cass with a more vibrant red blooming in her cheeks. She’d had a girlish crush on Prince Rilion once, as many young women had. She’d been jealous to learn Thea had not only met him, but had stayed in one of his guest houses. Since their ordeal began, she hadn’t thought of that envy—or the prince—even once.
“What?” Cass asked, an edge of irritation making that one word sharp.
She was staring. She hadn’t even realized. Now her face and neck burned so hot, she thought she might burst into flame. “Sorry. I just… I can’t make sense of it.” Nor could she understand how easily the man before her had come to dominate her thoughts. Perhaps it was just part of being on her own adventure, having something fresh and new and exciting for her to focus on.
That very handsome, serious face she got to look at was simply an added bonus. She reminded herself sternly of the work they were meant to be doing, then gathered her skirt in her hands and marched forward in the snow.
“Sense comes later. It’s like a wood block puzzle. Can’t put it together if you don’t have the pieces.” He fell in step beside her, neither trying to lead nor letting her wander off without guidance.
“Do you like puzzles?” The question was out of place, given the gravity of everything they’d discussed, but she’d let herself grow flustered and didn’t know what else to say.
He gave a soft sigh. “Not this one.”
After that, a silence fell, and they trekked on for what had to be several miles before he put out a hand to stop her. “Before we go any farther, there’s something we need to discuss.”
She twisted the edge of her coat in both hands, but stopped with a reasonable distance between them.
To her surprise, he took a step forward, putting them face to face.
“Did you notice the tracks?” He kept his voice down, but she had seen footprints here and there and knew they were the reason he was quiet.
She nodded.
“There may be a lot of people in there. Don’t know how this is going to go.”
Elia wasn’t sure where there was. She scanned the area, but saw nothing but stray footprints in the snow. What else had he seen that told him they were close? “How do we get in?”
He hesitated.
Right. The man who’d tried to shoot him with a bow had called him a traitor.
“You’re with them?” she asked, careful to keep from sounding judgmental.
“Almost. Helping you may have set me back.”
It wasn’t fair to think poorly of him for infiltrating a group in search of answers. Was that not what she was doing? Yet thinking of him working among the same people who could have kidnapped her alongside her friend put an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. She didn’t know how to reply, so she just nodded and moved on. “What should I do?”
“Cooperate. It’s probably better if you don’t know what to expect.”
That didn’t bode well, but she nodded again. What else could she do?
Eventually, he lowered his eyes. “I made something for you.”
Elia couldn’t keep her mouth from dropping open. That was the last thing she’d expected. “You… made…?”
“Probably should have given it to you sooner,” he muttered as he dug in his pocket and held out his other hand.
Unsure what he wanted her to do, she rested her hand atop his, palm up to receive whatever he had to offer.
Instead of laying it in her palm, Cass stripped off her glove and turned her hand so her palm was toward him, her fingers raised. He brought his other hand up, turning something in his grasp for a moment before he fitted it over her index finger and slid it down. The narrow wooden ring caught against her knuckle and he made a sound of displeasure, then moved it to her middle finger instead. There, it slid to the base of her finger, and a suffuse warmth flooded outward to wash over her whole body.
She gasped softly. “What is that?”
“Magic.” He settled the ring securely on her finger, then turned her hand as if to inspect his work. The ring was primitive, but showed skill in its simplicity. All he’d had was an ordinary knife. Something made with proper woodworking tools might have been beautiful. “To protect you from the cold. If things sour, you’ll need it to get back to Samara. If this doesn’t work, I can get you out. I can’t promise I’ll be able to go with you.” Apology filled his eyes, twisting her heart until it ached.
Elia raised her hand to touch his face, his beard coarse yet soft beneath her fingertips. Her thumb brushed the bare skin of his cheek and he exhaled.
“You’re warm now,” he murmured.
“You should have made one for yourself.”
He lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “I like the cold.”
She quirked a brow. “I suppose you don’t want my fingers on you, then.” She was warm; her coat suddenly felt stifling, but she couldn’t bring herself to move.
“Didn’t say that.” If anything, he shifted so her hand cradled his face. His eyes locked with hers and stayed, dark and intense.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
Without warning, he leaned down and claimed her mouth with his.
Heat bloomed from her heart this time, filling her to the tips of her toes. His arms snaked around her ribs, pulling her closer, and she leaned into the kiss. He was strong, solid, immobile even when her full weight fell against him. His lips were cold against hers, refreshing in the wake of the ring’s magic, and when she let hers part, he needed no further invitation. A low growl escaped him, fierce and possessive, such hunger in his kisses that she thought he might consume her then and there.
Then he broke free, breathing hard, a strange savagery in his eyes that made her shiver with anticipation instead of fear. Her heart beat so hard that she thought it might choke her, with the way it tried to leap into her throat.
He brushed a hand against her face, sweeping hair from her forehead to tuck it behind her ear. “When we get out, I’m doing that again.”
Somehow, she mustered a nod.
Oh, Light, she prayed he did.
