Not that I’m in a position to criticize. I was distracted by a pretty girl.
By the time we finally stop, we’ve gone at least a mile through the brush, and falling snow has trickled under my collar to make me shiver. This cold is piercing, and it assaults us all. The princess is clutching her arms against her body, her hands tucked under her biceps. None of us have a cloak. The only person with gloves is Asher, and even his breath is trembling as he shivers. I’m still wearing the fur-lined gear I wore on the ride here, but my bare fingers feel numb, and my ankles ache from walking with my bootlaces tied together.
I don’t know where I expected us to end up, but there’s almost nothing here. Just a small copse of pine trees encircling a tiny hut that’s practically buried in a snowdrift. If we hadn’t stopped, I might not have even noticed it. Asher kicks snow away from the door, tugging at the handle.
I stand at a bit of a distance, doing my best to calculate how much time has passed. Asher said we were a mile away from the palace when we stepped out of the sewers, so we can’t be too far outside the capital city. I hoped we’d hear evidence of search parties: shouting in the woods, mounted guards and soldiers trotting through. But there’s been nothing—and walking so far underground will make us impossible to follow. This falling snow will obscure our tracks, too, and rather immediately.
I close my eyes and think of my friend.Sev. Please. Find me.
I imagine him somewhere out in the world, equally desperate.Ky. Where the hell are you?
The door finally gives, and snow slides from the roof to land inside. Asher gestures for Jory to enter, then stands back and looks at me. I can only see the barest glimpse of his features under the hood of his coat.
“Don’t go near her,” he says. “Stay by the wall.”
I’m tempted to push him a little, to see how he’d react—but I suspecthe might just lock me out here in the snow. I walk past him, my tied bootlaces snapping taut with every step.
Once we’re inside, I hope for cloaks or blankets orsomething. But no, the walls and floor are bare planks that smell musty, with an old wood-burning stove taking up one corner. Dust and cobwebs coat the dark surface, but a small stack of aged wood sits beside it. I don’t need magic to know that it’s been a while since a fire burned in this room.
I sigh and lean against the wall beside a snow-covered window. I keep trying to flex my wrists, but there’s so little give.
The princess is in worse shape. Her gown is thick, because the palace was so cold, but it’s completely unsuitable for a hike in the snow. She tried to hold her dress out of the water, but the hem is soaking wet anyway, along with her boots. They’re slim suede riding boots, not army boots, and the water from the stream likely soaked through. Despite the velvet of her dress, she’s shivering so fiercely that I almost feel pity.
Asher looks at the stove for a long moment, then looks at me from under the hood. His tense deliberation practicallyradiates.
“Cold?” I say darkly.
“I’m fine.”
“The princess isn’t. Untie me. I can make it warm.”
“By burning me alive? No, thank you.” But he glances at the princess, then shoves back the hood and shrugs out of his jacket.
“Here,” he says to Jory. His tone is quieter. Gentler. “Put this on.”
“Th-thank you,” she says, slipping her arms through the sleeves, pulling it tightly around herself, even going so far as to draw the hood up, until it’sherface in shadow.
But I’m not looking at her, I’m looking at Asher. It’s my first chance to really see him, and I’m surprised to discover that he’s not some unkempt outlaw. He’s clean-shaven and sharp-featured, and a bit younger than I expected—closer to the princess’s age than mine. His white-blond hair is a shade I’ve never seen on a grown man. It’s longer on top, falling into his blue eyes in a way that makes him seem almost petulant. Dark vertical lines have been inked onto his left cheek, stretching from his jaw to just below his eye.
They must be significant. I saw a few men with something similar in one of Prince Dane’s battle camps, but those men only had one or two. Asher seems to have half a dozen.
He’s lithe and leanly muscled, not built like a soldier at all. It explains how he was able to leap onto that beam like he was weightless—and why he struggled to keep me pinned. I probably have him by forty pounds. Maybe more.
If he were a second slower, I could’ve broken every bone in his body before he even knew it was happening. If the princess hadn’t asked me to disarm, I could’ve cut that garrote and plunged a dagger into his throat before he pulled it taut.
I’m such an idiot.
Jory hasn’t stopped shivering, and I’m guessing it’s the soaked boots causing a problem. She’s begun to stomp her feet against the dirt floor, and a little whimper escapes her mouth. She glances around the tiny room desperately, likely looking for the same blankets or cloaks I hoped for.
I refuse to let it tug at my heart. I’m still bound, and I’m not sure I believe anything they’ve told me.
Irefuse.
“Take these, too,” says Asher, yanking his gloves free. His voice is still low.
Jory shivers, pulling them over her hands. Her clouded breath stutters with her voice. “Th-thank you.”
Oh, fine. I’m not heartless. “You need to take the boots off,” I say. “If your feet are wet, you’ll never get warm. Sit on the floor and wrap your feet up in your skirts so they dry.”
