“It’s not snowing,” I called over my shoulder.
“Who cares? It’ll start again as soon as we leave,” she muttered.
Shaking my head, I turned my attention to the fire. I stacked dry branches from the pile we’d gathered the night before, then struck my knife against the flint, aiming the sparks at the waiting tinder. Within minutes, a small flame took hold, crackling to life.
The tea brewed quickly. I poured some into our tin cups, fished a few pieces of jerky from the saddlebags propped against a tree, and carried everything back to the shelter.
Emily sat up, accepted the food and drink without a word, and ate in silence.
After breakfast, we packed up and mounted the horses, continuing north. The land was blanketed in patches of snow, and we relied on the sun, the terrain, and a map marking rivers, streams, and trails to guide us. We pushed the horses into a frantic gallop between short rests, the silence between us thick with unspoken frustrations.
When the sun peaked, we stopped beneath a cluster of maple trees—somewhere in New York, if my estimations were correct. I dismounted, dug through my satchel, and handed Emily a piece of jerky. She slid off her horse with a weary sigh, then pulled the map from her pocket, squinting at it.
“I think we lost the route, Olivia,” she observed. “This map is useless.”
“It’s not useless. It’s upside down,” I said, turning it around with a smirk.
“I know that,” she snapped. “I was just seeing if it made more sense upside down.” She scowled. “It doesn’t seem to matter.”
I exhaled, frustration curling in my chest. “Emily, what’s wrong with you?”
She threw up her hands, startling the horses. “Everything’s wrong! My husband is dead. I’m tired of traveling, tired of running, tired of being cold, tired of this whole damn journey!”
I stared at her, taken aback.
“I don’t think I can do this anymore.” She batted at loose strands of hair clinging to her face. “We don’t even know if we’re going in the right direction. We don’t even know if this Malik fellow exists. As far as I’m concerned, Balthazar can take me! I’m done!”
My jaw dropped. “You can’t mean that, Em.”
She huffed and collapsed onto the frozen ground, arms crossed like a petulant child.
My temper snapped. “Look, Em, I’m tired, too. I lost my child, my husband, everything. And at this point, you are the only thing holding me together!”
Emily began to shake. When she spoke again, her frantic voice rose. “Well, that’s a mistake! I’m so angry! We keep running and running, and everything is so damn hard.” She threw her arms out in frustration. “We barely have enough to eat. Every day gets harder. And for what? For someone we’re not even sure exists?”
I blinked, stunned. I had never seen my sister like this. Taking a deep breath, I softened my voice.
“Look, Em, I know we’re both exhausted. But I also know Malik exists. He’s the one who helped bring Roman back from Balthazar’s dungeon. And when I was in the teepee with Grey Feather, we did a ritual with my dagger… It showed me an image of Roman—alive—with a man standing beside him. I believe that man was Malik, and he knows where Roman is.”
I reached out, resting a hand on her shoulder. “I’m so sorry you lost Marcellious, Em. I truly am. But maybe—just maybe—he’s still alive. Balthazar is cruel, but he doesn’t kill without purpose.”
Emily lifted her eyes to mine, and what I saw there made my stomach drop. Her eyes looked hollow, lifeless.
“How can you still be full of hope, Olivia?” Her voice cracked. “I might be carrying a dead man’s child. I love Marcellious wholeheartedly but can’t have this baby without him.”
A few tears carved paths down her dirt-smudged face.
“Oh, no,” I whispered, my hand flying to my mouth. “You’re pregnant? How long have you known?”
“I haven’t bled since before our wedding night.” Her shoulders slumped, hands falling into her lap, motionless.
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
More tears clung to her lashes. “How could I? You just lost your child. I was afraid it would break you.” Her voice wavered, then gave way to sobs. “I’m sorry I’ve been so awful. I just… I don’t know what to do. I feel lost. Everything is so hard.”
I pulled her into my arms, and she didn’t pull away. She clung to me, crying into my shoulder, her body all hard angles and aching grief.
But I felt relief for the first time in weeks—because, at least now, she wasn’t shutting me out.
