Cole muttered under his breath, but his steps pounded after her.
As the ship came into view more clearly, Mistel’s steps slowed. The vessel sat pitched at an odd angle, half submerged and rotting. Completely frozen in the ice, its masts had splintered, its deck sagging. On the other side of the berth, the skeletal remains of a ship jutted from the ice like the broken ribs of a tanniyn.
“Thusk can’t ship from here,” Cole said. “No one can.”
Because the harbor had been frozen for years, which was why they’d ridden to Ice Island on the dogsleds. Why would things be any different here in town?
Mistel turned back to Cole. She had grown up in Sitna, far from any ocean. She knew nothing about ships. “But I heard soldiers talking about the Brierstar sailing back to Tsaftown. So, how does a ship sail here?”
“Ships are too big to sail straight into a shallow berth like this,” Cole said. “The Brierstar would have to anchor out in the bay where the water is too deep to freeze. They’d use longboats to haul cargo back and forth. My guess is, they take dogsleds across the ice, or there might be a longer pier out here somewhere from which they can launch longboats. Best head back. I’ll ask Kurtz about it.”
Mistel supposed there was nothing else to be done. “Well, that was disappointing,” she said, allowing Cole to lead her back toward the city streets.
A block from the Tipsy Taproom, Mistel caught the rattle of an approaching horse and wagon just before Cole yanked her into the shadowed alcove of a thatcher’s shop. His body pressed against hers, warm and unyielding, and sent a tingle racing through her belly.
A moment later, a wagoner steered two horses around the corner of the next block, heading down the street toward them. As the wagon passed by, Mistel caught sight of a series of runes painted in white along its side.
She sucked in an icy breath and tugged Cole’s hand. “Did you see those runes? They were the same ones we saw at the prison.”
“Are you sure?” Cole asked.
The wagon slowed at the next intersection, then turned left. Mistel ran after it.
“Mistel!” Cole whisper-yelled.
“One minute,” she called back, eager to get a better look at those runes. When she reached the corner and peeked around, she saw that the wagon had stopped halfway down the next street. The driver was nowhere to be seen.
Perfect.
She crept forward, her heart pounding so hard she could hear it between her ears. When she reached the wagon, she ran her finger along the runes. The first was a line with three shorter ones coming out its top. The second, two parallel wavy lines. And the third, a square balanced on one point with two concentric circles inside.
Yep. Same ones from the prison.
A snort made her jump, and she peered into the back of the wagon where three large cages sat in a row. Inside were boars—two regular brown ones and one white ice boar. She frowned, her excitement fading. Just more meat.
“Mistel!” Cole’s hissing whisper pulled her gaze to the corner. And here came her knightling, striding toward her, hand on the hilt of the sword at his belt.
My, he looked handsome and brave, all focused and determined to make sure she was all right. She started toward him, but a figure stepped between them, his back to Cole. A gruff man with a scar slashed across his face. His eyes locked onto hers, and something about that angry scar rendered her immobile. Mistel couldn’t breathe—forgot all about her skills in charming strange men. For a moment, neither of them moved.
“Hey!” Cole’s voice cut through the air, sharp and urgent.
The man turned his head toward Cole, and Mistel ran the other way.
Chapter 30
Cole
When the stranger swung his attention to Cole, Mistel scampered toward the opposite street corner.
Cole thought quickly and gave his best impression of Kurtz in a fury. He increased his speed, striding past the stranger with an urgency he hoped would prove nonthreatening. “Little minx stole my coin purse, she did.”
The man’s chuckle rang out behind him. “Best of luck getting it back, mate.”
The tension melted off Cole’s shoulders as he held his brisk pace.
Until a sharp scream rang out.
Cole’s stomach dropped, and he sprinted toward the intersection, his boots hammering against the icy cobblestones. He rounded the corner and skidded to a stop where Mistel stood facing a shadowed figure.
