READY OR NOT
LEILANI
AMIMAKINGthe right decision?
I run my nail along the indentations I’ve gouged in the ice, next to the ramp leading to the sleeping platform. Thirty-three. One for each moonsrising we’ve spent on the mountain. Thirty-three long, monotonous nights cooped up in this cabin, a refuge that grows more like a prison with every line I carve.
Thirty-three moonsrisings since Blayze survived the lightning strike. Thirty since I kissed him, then received that terrible vision of my mother. Thirty moonsrisings spent in torment. Twenty since the breathlessness began in earnest, and I understood what it meant. Eighteen since Blayze’s fever broke. Eighteen moonsrisings spent counting the hours till he’s strong enough to make the ascent. One, since I decided that, ready or not, we’re not waiting anymore.
‘Stop fussing. I’m not a flaming child; I can feed and water myself.’
I snap my head to the other side of the cabin, where Blayze sits close to the door, pocket-knife in hand, the pine branch he’s whittling into a proper walking staff crosswise in his lap. He’s recovered the use of his legs, but now lumbers with a heavy limp. He bats away the waterskin Maris holds to his lips.
‘And if you hadn’t let your creature conjure that damned storm, I wouldn’t need you at all.’
Hurt flickers over Maris’ face. Delphine scowls at Blayze, ocean-eyes flashing as she moves to comfort her charge. Heaving to his feet with a grunt, Blayze rests heavily on the stick as he hobbles away, staggering past Tansy in the centre of the cabin, who’s busy packing away her medicinal stores. Her eyes are pink-rimmed and puffy, and Briar is curled at her feet. My chest tightens looking at them. I wish we didn’t have to leave Briar behind. Blayze shuffles to his corner of the cabin to pack his things. He shouldn’t be climbing anything in this condition.
Am I making the right decision?
Blayze turns, and I drop my gaze, reverting my attention to the open pack at my feet. I take out the box containing the mooncrystal, setting it carefully to one side. I can’t use it again, not now I suspect it opens a mind-bridge between me and Arden. I don’t understand her connection to the crystal, or what forces I might be unleashing, what information I might be revealing, if I scry its depths. But there’s a chance it could reveal something more about my mother’s condition, and that’s an itch almost impossible not to scratch, especially since my brandsong stays maddeningly silent on the subject, no matter how many visions I beg for, how many prayers I offer to the Dawn Sister.
I’d have to wait for the next full moons, though. Five risings to decide if it’s worth the risk.
Blayze is staring at me. I feel his gaze like the scorching sweep of his finger against my jaw that night we kissed. Does he remember what passed between us? My cheeks burn and I dip my head lower. Blayze was delirious, or he’d have said something. Though there’s been precious little opportunity to talk without others overhearing in this star-forsaken cabin.
I still need to ask about his brand, but Maris is a jealous caretaker, refusing to leave his side, however much he seethes at her. I won’t reveal his secret to the others – not yet. But I have questions and the Clanschief owes me answers.
My fingers close around the ice-shoes. I fasten the thick leather buckles around my boots. The toothed, metal contraptions are heavy and cumbersome. They’ll slow us down; the last thing I want. But it’s a blessing Astrophel was able to recover them in Galtair – the mountain is steep and slippery, and we’ll need ropes and climbing axes too, soon enough.
Maris sits on the furs beside me. She’s carrying the bandages Tansy asked her to re-roll now and the potions she’s been administering to Blayze, which need to be packed before we leave. Her shoulders slump. It can’t be easy, putting up with Blayze snapping all the time.
‘Are you all right?’
She nods. ‘Just dizzy.’
It’s the altitude. It’s hitting all of us in different ways. But I don’t say this aloud. We haven’t admitted the truth to each other, but the tincture is wearing off.
‘You didn’t deserve that, by the way,’ I whisper. ‘And Blayze doesn’t mean it. He’s not used to accepting help, that’s all. Not built that way.’
Maris keeps her eyes on the bandage she’s rolling but gives a small sigh.
‘Are you sure about this – about leaving now?’
‘Delphine thinks we’ll have a window with the snow. If we keep good pace, we should reach the second ice-cabin before the next flurries hit.’
She shakes her head. ‘That’s not what I meant.’
I stiffen. I know exactly what she meant, but I don’t want to justify my decisions. Not again. It’s almost three moonscycles since we left Meissa, and my mother needs me.
Maris loops the bandage around her fingers. ‘If you’re not thinking clearly, I understand. I know what it is to lose a parent.’
My throat tightens. It’s so much worse when someone else speaks the words aloud.
Maris’ eyes glaze over, misting with memory. There’s more here… She never talks about her mother, only mentioned once in passing that she died some time ago. But I won’t press her. That story is hers to tell – or not.
She lowers her voice, eyes flicking to Blayze.
‘But look at him.’
