But it’s getting harder and harder to lie to myself.
I’ll end my watch early, hand over to Astrophel. He’s recovered enough to sit here quietly for a few hours – and I need to breathe, to think. To clear my head. Most of all, I need to get away from Blayze and the impossible draw he holds over me.
I stagger up to where my betrothed lies sleeping. Shame sours my stomach as I shake him awake. I didn’t initiate that kiss with Blayze, but I didn’t pull away either. And though we’re not bound yet, though I never sought our union, I can’t shake the feeling I’ve betrayed Astrophel. And while I don’t feel for Astrophel what I feel for Blayze, I do care for him. I don’t want to hurt him. He opens his eyes and stares sleepily at me. My cheeks burn. After everything Astrophel did to save me from the hoarclaw, from the Arx Magnum, from those frostfangs on the ice, is this how I repay him?
I crawl into my own furs, too tired and heartsore now to check the perimeter, but I’m plagued by disquieting dreams, haunted in wholly different ways by two pairs of stricken, amber eyes.
The eyes morph the longer I dream. The fire drains out of them. In its place, soft grey depths rise, etched with a wholly different kind of pain. I know these eyes.
‘Mother!’
I sit up, hugging my arms around the terror in the pit of my stomach, wrenching back to consciousness. I reach for the silk of her dress, forgetting it was lost on the ice.
Did I scream aloud? The soft murmurs to my left and right suggest the others are still asleep. I focus on their rhythmic mumble, try to unsee my mother’s beautiful face wracked, contorted into ugliness. Something shifts inside me, yanks out of alignment, like a dislocating joint. The change I’ve feared, the one the healers have warned of for moonscycles.
The end – her end – it’s finally here. Or very close.
A dream. Just a dream. I curl my knees to my chest and bury my face in them. But the vision doesn’t fade. Instead, threads of light stretch before my eyes, forming pictures, a glittering tapestry of the future. Part of me doesn’t want to look, but I have to know. I reach with my mind’s eye for one of the silvery strands. Terrible, vivid images flood my mind.
The bare bones of my nightmare acquire flesh.
This vision is no dark mirror. The Arx Magnum’s letter has arrived. Or rather, it arrived some time back, but my mother has just learnt of its existence. This is what caused her sudden relapse. Worrying about me.
My fault.
Monster, they called me. And monster I am. Constantly lying, kissing other people’s lovers, betraying those who’d risk their lives for me, hastening my own mother’s death… I shudder. Perhaps Shadow has seeped deeper into my marrow than I thought. Or perhaps I’ve been wrong all my life, and it’s not magic that makes me monstrous. It’s some defect in my makeup.
My fingers brush the Celestial Chain, cool beneath my shirt. I lift it into the open, cradling the pendant, peering at the faint cleft Izarius made when he spliced a fragment away to create the distillation that, at this very moment, is allowing me and the other members of the Quaternity to breathe the mountain’s cursed air. I can only pray that taking that chance, making that tincture, exposing myself to Shadow, hasn’t compromised the Sister-Stones. That if I succeed in finding the lost sceptre, I’ll still be granted my one wish. That fragile hope is the only thing standing between my mother and death.
But I no longer have the space of half a sunring – nothing close to that.
It might already be too late, and there’s a mountain yet to climb.
I only realise I’m crying when I taste salt. Then, a dim awareness of an arm around my shoulders, soft, soothing words murmured close to my ear, and the scent of sweet hay and leather. Astrophel. Here when I need him – again. I lean into his warmth but can’t focus on his words. Can’t hear what he’s saying. There’s a buzzing in my ears, and I can’t catch my breath.
And where earlier, I didn’t have the strength to resist Blayze, now I don’t have the strength to resist the dark currents of panic as they pull me under.
THE STAKES
ASTROPHEL
‘IT’SNOUSE,’ Tansy mutters from the other side of the sleeping platform, dusky head bent low over Briar’s. ‘The salves aren’t working. I wouldn’t ask unless I had to.’ Her bloodshot eyes drift to the lower floor of the ice-cabin, where Maris is squeezing snowmelt on the Clanschief’s still-fevered brow, Serafine perched on the furs beside him keeping eternal vigil, while Delphine watches on from the shadows. An unnatural stillness pervades the cabin, but outside, the wind howls over the mountain, pummelling its walls.
In the fifteen risings since the lightning strike, there’s been no real change in Blayze’s condition.
Leilani frowns from her seated position at my bedside. The air seems to weigh with the tight press of her lips. Her eyes are fixed on the Clanschief too. The uncharitable part of me wishes Tansy wouldn’t ask this of Briar. I flex my bad hand, forgetting my injury. Pain shoots to the elbow, but I swallow my groan. I’d only add to her worries.
Briar nuzzles Tansy’s cheek, offers up her front leg. As Tansy delves into her basket, drawing out a blade and earthen vessel, I look away. I can’t see Briar bled again. I never thought I could care for another creature as I care for Silvermist, but Briar has claimed a piece of my heart. Seeing her in pain brings back memories of the awful things I was party to in Galtair. No matter that Briar agreed to play along… the piteous whickering, the fear in her widening eyes, will haunt me forever.
In doing this, I know a choice is being made. Briar is sparing the Clanschief’s life, but at what cost?
‘It’s the only way to save him,’ Leilani whispers, as if reading my thoughts. I stare up into her fathomless lilac eyes. Perhaps she truly is reading them? I shift my weight against the furs. Which of my current thoughts would I have her know? The real reason I’m not champing at the bit to see Briar go through with this?
Leilani’s brow creases. ‘You ought to be resting. We’ll get Tansy to change your dressing after…’ She trails off when a sharp whinny from Briar snaps her attention back to the sylvanmare.
The poor creature is trembling. Tansy has made the incision and moss-green blood is fast brimming the vessel she holds to it.
Leilani grips the furs. I cover her clenching hand with my good one. ‘They might rally.’
