Chapter Twenty-Four
Rydian
The northern half of Autumn was dying. Not the slow death of the season for which it was named. The kind that spread like ice across a poisoned lake, a disease for which there was no cure. I could smell it in the air—cold and rot, pine needles gone brittle, frost creeping down the trunks of trees like veins of glass. We marched through it anyway. Step after step, breath after ghosted breath, the land surrendered a little more to Heliconia’s brutal influence.
By the time we’d reached the foothills of the Concordian Mountains, even the birds had stopped singing. The silence made every creak of armor, every boot against half-frozen soil, sound like a horn announcing our presence.
Slade walked beside me, his cloak snapping at his heels. He wasn’t quiet often, but this morning he’d managed nearly half an hour without a word. I should’ve known it wouldn’t last.
“So,” he started, tone casual as he adjusted his crossbow strap, “you told her.”
I didn’t look at him. “Told her what?”
He scoffed. “Don’t play dumb,Shadow Prince. The secret you’ve been brooding over since we left Grey Oak. She knows now, doesn’t she?”
I kept my eyes on the path ahead. Frost crunched underfoot. “She knows both of them.”
He faltered. “You told her about the oath?”
“I did.”
“And?”
“And what?”
“Come on.” He kicked a stone into the ditch. “Did she throw you into a firepit? Curse your bloodline? Try to kill you with her bare hands?”
“No.”
Slade gave an exaggerated groan. “Gods, you’re impossible. Fine, I’ll guess. She doesn’t hate you. You were terrified she would, and instead, it had the opposite effect. Am I close?”
I didn’t answer, which was answer enough.
He grinned, sharp and knowing. “See? Not so bad, then.”
“Doesn’t change anything,” I said quietly.
Slade studied me sidelong. “Sure it does. She knows what you are and still looks at you like you hung the stars.”
“She shouldn’t.”
He snorted. “Tell that to her face. Or better yet, keep pretending it doesn’t matter. I’ll enjoy watching you both unravel.”
I gave him a look that should’ve shut him up for good. He just smirked and jogged ahead to bother Daegel instead.
The frost thickened as the day dragged on. Patches of white spread between the roots of trees that hadn’t known winter in centuries.
Legends claimed all of Menryth bore changing seasons up until the moon split. I suspected the change had more to do with the gods’ negotiation for power than it did the moon itself. Now, if Heliconia had her way, the entire continent would be buried beneath winter’s weight forever. I refused toimagine a world like that, mostly because it suggested we had failed entirely.
Eirnan’s scouts returned every few hours with grim updates—the ice was spreading faster than Autumn’s fading magic could stop it. A curse made visible, crawling south like a living thing.
Aurelia took the news with a sort of grim determination. Her hood remained down despite the cold, sunlight glancing off the streaks of gold in her hair. Every now and then, when she brushed her hand against the trees, the frost melted. Leaves turned gold where her fingers trailed, the ground thawing faintly in her wake.
I wondered if she even knew she was doing it. Or if it wasn’t simply an expending of her magic but the land itself reaching—and taking what it needed to heal.
I kept my distance, though I caught myself watching more than I should—how she moved, how she carried herself as if the weight of the prophecy didn’t crush her with every step. She’d buried her grief somewhere deep, beneath armor and fury. But it was there. I could feel it humming through her like a blade held too tight, her gaze always carefully averted from mine.
By afternoon, we reached the scorched remains of another village. The smell of ash still lingered despite the winds attempting to carry it off. Blackened rafters stuck out of the ground like ribs. No bodies left—Heliconia’s army didn’t leave corpses behind. Fire took them, same as it took everything else.
