“Sure,” Nash said, brushing past them.
Cole followed him out, then waited for Kurtz to join him. Once Nash was out of sight, he leaned toward Kurtz. “What am I supposed to do?” His voice cracked, and he hated himself for it. “I can’t save them both.”
Kurtz gripped his shoulder. “One of us goes to Ice Island. The other stays here and finds the way down.”
A strange hollowness spread through Cole’s chest. “How can I choose between them?” He was supposed to be stronger than this. Strong enough to protect the people he loved. But he’d let his guard down, and now Mistel was gone, and his father, a man he’d never even gotten to know, was about to disappear forever.
Kurtz’s gaze didn’t waver. “Who did you make a promise to?”
“Mistel,” Cole said hoarsely. “I told her I’d keep her safe. But I also told Crispen I’d get him out.”
“You stay here and find Mistel. I’ll go get your father. Keep your mind open to me, and let me know what’s happening. I’ll do the same.”
“But we’ll lose the connection,” Cole said. “Once you step into that tunnel, the runes will cut off your magic.”
“Right. Forgot that, I did. I’ll message the king. He can help you.”
Cole blinked. “It’s the middle of the night.”
“Bah! He won’t mind.” Kurtz beamed, and it felt almost out of place in the tense moment. “I’m glad I thought of it, I am. The king is good at this sort of thing.”
The knot in Cole’s chest loosened. Yes, Achan could enter the Veil and find any underground chambers in moments. “Good idea.”
“I have to go,” Kurtz said. “Zanna will be waiting for me.”
“Go,” Cole said. “Thank you.”
“We can’t let the enemy win this one.” Kurtz clapped him twice on the shoulder. “I’ll message the king from the road. Don’t forget to pray.”
“You either,” Cole murmured.
Kurtz started away, then paused and turned back. “One more thing, poet. If you come against something ugly, don’t get stuck there. Remember the good, eh? What Arman has done.”
Cole nodded. “I will.”
With that, Kurtz left Cole standing alone in the empty room, the weight of Mistel’s absence pressing down on him. He stared at the floor, searching for any sign of a trapdoor, but all he could see was Mistel bound and gagged in the hold of a ship bound for Jaelport.
If he was a hero, he wouldn’t need the king’s help to save her. If he was strong enough, she never would have been taken in the first place.
He shook the thoughts away, forcing himself to move, to keep looking. He could do this. Mistel was out there, somewhere. Arman would send the king to help. And Cole would not fail her again.
Chapter 38
Mistel
How had it come to this?
Mistel sat huddled in a cage meant for animals, iron bars cold against her back. A coarse layer of straw lined the bottom, scratching her legs and reeking of urine and damp rot. She curled her fingers into the folds of her skirt, trying to steady her trembling hands. She wasn’t sure if it was the cold or her nerves making them shake. Maybe both.
The bitter chill of the room turned her breath into pale clouds that vanished in the dim light of the warehouse. A different warehouse. Cole had been right about Thusk having a second. This one stretched higher and had alcoves, rather than long shelves.
Memories came back to her in jagged flashes. Drustan Fawst’s cruel sneer as he shoved her into this cage, his heavy footsteps retreating, leaving her alone in the suffocating darkness.
But she wasn’t entirely alone.
She squinted through the murky room. To her left, several cages held boars. One pale ice boar with massive tusks rooted at the hay, its snout wet and glistening. Across from her cage, a man lay in another, his head tilted against the bars in what looked like fitful sleep, flaxen hair leaking out the gaps.
Drustan’s parting words repeated in her memory. He’d said he was going to buy her, as if she were no more than a sack of grain. Her throat tightened at the thought. This will not be my life, she told herself. She would belong to no man, especially not that brute.
