“She’ll starve if we don’t find milk or gruel.” The words came out more sharply than I intended, but Grace was not a chubby baby. She was too tiny to miss three days of meals.
“Then we go to Takir.” Remy surprised me. I’d expected him to argue. Mainly because I was the one who’d asked. Maybe he cared more about Grace’s welfare than he did about thwarting me.
We rode, Remy holding Grace. If I had her in my arms, I’d be terrified of dropping her. But Remy made cantering down a snowy road while holding a baby in one arm look effortless.
Grace fussed as the wind picked up, her tiny cries cutting through the cold air. Without missing a beat, Remy adjusted his hold, doing his best to protect her from the cold and singing—actually singing—a low, soothing lullaby I’d never heard before. The baby quieted almost immediately.
This was the same man who’d mocked my every move? I rubbed my disbelieving eyes. Yet here he remained, comforting an orphaned child.
The wind swirled around us, blowing snow and erasing our tracks.
A woman appeared on the path ahead of us. She sat atop a white horse, wrapped in a white cloak. Her hair, as snowy as abasajaun’s, whipped around her pale face. Her features were austere, and her eyes were the color of ice chips. She watched as we approached.
“Friend or foe?” I asked Zane.
He frowned. “What do you mean?”
“The woman up ahead.” I pointed.
His brows furrowed. “Haven, there’s no one there.”
“Yes, there is. She’s dressed in white.”
Remy snorted, and my shoulders tightened, anticipating a snide remark about my sanity. “A trick of the light,” he said, gesturing toward the swirling snow.
“No trick,” I whispered fiercely, pulling my cloak tighter around me.
Zane shifted in his saddle, his horse stepping closer to mine. His brow creased with worry as he studied my face. “How long has it been since you slept, Haven?” His voice was gentle, concerned. “The mind can play tricks when we’re exhausted.”
I wasn’t seeing things because I was tired. The woman was real. I could see that plain as day. I could make out the intricate silver embroidery on her white cloak, the way her breath formed small clouds in the frigid air, and the frost clinging to her horse’s mane.
But Remy and Zane rode past her as if the path were empty, their eyes focused on nothing but the snowy trail stretching between the dark pines.
The woman’s thin lips curved faintly, an amused smile playing at their edges. She seemed to delight in their blindness. Or maybe it was my impending mental collapse that amused her.
She turned her horse and fell into step beside me.
“Gladys sends her regards,” she said, her voice icy.
I clenched my jaw. “Should’ve guessed. What do you want?”
Hearing my voice, Zane glanced over his shoulder. “You okay?”
He couldn’t see the woman. He couldn’t hear her either. It appeared as if I were talking to myself. I forced a bland smile. “Fine.”
“They’re going to think I’ve lost my mind.” Nothing brightened my day like a supernatural stalker who made me look like a lunatic.
She snapped her fingers; the sound was sharp to my ears, but Remy and Zane didn’t react. “There. They can’t hear you. Happy?”
“Not remotely.”
“Talin is that way.” The woman pointed west.
“We’re not going to Talin,” I replied coolly.
“Why not?”
“We need food for the baby.”
