She bristles, as though the sound of my voice offends her. “I’m not good at fire magick.”
Her tone is harsh and bitter. Rude and quick.
“You don’thaveto be good.” I grit the words through cold teeth. “I just need you to help me get a fire going.” I glance at Raina, shivering beneath my cloak against Helena’s back, and jerk my chin toward Mannus. “There’s a rocky overhang over there. I’m hoping this is Nephele’s doing.”
I have to believe it is. Even if I don’t feel her here, I have to believe she will somehow protect us from freezing to death out here.
As I stalk back toward my horse, the blacksmith’s daughter scoffs and speaks two words she isn’t wise enough to keep quiet. “Foolish man.”
Perhaps I’m only tired, or perhaps I’m irritable from the blistering cold. Whatever the culprit for my easily roused temper, I halt and turn around, lifting my lamp so I can see Helena better in the darkness.
She knows nothing about me save for that I am the Witch Collector, a title I’ve never wanted. But in moments like these, the legend surrounding me often dampens the bravery of those who consider speaking so unguardedly as Helena. I suppose I’ve become used to such deference, because her blatant disrespect pisses me right the fuck off.
“I’m wiser than you think, girl. You would do well to remember that.”
Clenching my teeth, I bury my irritation and find shelter for the horses beneath the tallest part of the stone overhang. It’s the shape of a crescent moon, perfect for shielding much of the wind.
After the animals are settled, I gather any dry wood and brush I can find, which proves to be a task though not impossible. When all is said and done, I’ve collected a hefty armful of under-limbs from a dying tree, broken branches shielded by needly boughs from the weather. Some are damp but will hopefully light.
Back at our makeshift camp, I dump the kindling on the ground where Raina has cleared the ground. She sits an arm’s length away, huddled beneath my cloak. I can feel her watching my every move as I shield the oil lamp and begin the work of taking flame from the wick using the wool from the tinder box. When a rough wind sucks away my flame, I try again, but the wind blows the tiny fire to nothing.
“Gods’ death.” I snap the glass door on the lamp closed. “I can’t risk losing the only light we have.” I take a seat beside Raina, sensing her attention moving toward her friend who sits across from us, oddly silent. There’s an easy way and a hard way to survive the cold tonight. The easy way lies with her, yet she makes no effort to help.“Fulmanesh,”I say to the girl, trying to prime her into action. It seems unlikely, but perhaps she’s still in shock. “That’s the word for summoning fire,” I remind her. “Iyumaif it needs urging.”
“I told you, Witch Collector,” she all but hisses. “I’m no good at fire.” She gets up and, without another word, heads to the far corner of the overhang. Wrapped in the gambeson, she turns her back to us amid the shadows, as though she’s going to sleep.
Raina scrubs her hands over her knees, then starts to push off the ground to join her friend. I can sense her concern, but I sense something else in the air, too. Something that screams at my instinct.
I reach out and capture Raina’s dainty wrist in my grip, halting her from leaving my side. But the moment she turns those dark blue eyes on me, I let go. Not because I see anger there, but because something dead inside me flares to life when I touch her, let alone when I look into her eyes at the same time. It’s too much connection, a dangerous combination that might make me want to do something I have no business doing when it comes to her.
I’d give just about anything to understand what I’m feeling for her, but there’s no explaining it. No reason for it. It’s ridiculous and overwhelming. I tell myself she’s only awakening an old part of me, the man who could become a master player at seduction when seized by the sultry gaze of a beautiful woman. But I am no longer that man.
“Let her rest,”I sign, a little too uneasy about her friend to insist she help us.“Perhaps she needs to sleep it off.”
“We need fire,”Raina replies, her hands and fingers moving stiffly.
“We’llgetfire. Even if we have to conjure it ourselves.”
I tug the blanket tighter over my shoulders and attempt to build a fire with the contents of the tinder box again, but unfortunately, it’s no use. My hands are so cold they’re shaking, and the wind that slips under the overhang makes the effort impossible.
To save what light we have, I close up the lamp and shove the tinder box aside, burrowing beneath the blanket as an idea strikes me. “I can show you how to summon fire,” I offer. “You might not like it, but I can show you. One time, that’s all it takes. After that, with some practice, you should be able to seek out fire threads for yourself.”
In the pale light, I swear her cheeks grow pink with warmth.“I know what must be done to see them,”she signs.
I can’t help but lift my brows at that. “Yet you don’t know how to summon fire? Who taught you how to see the threads but didn’t take the time to help you master them? Or is this another skill I had no idea you possess?”
I glance at Helena, buried under the gambeson, sleeping as though we aren’t in the middle of a frozen nightmare. She must’ve taught Raina a few things when it comes to fire magick. Or maybe it was someone else. The lover she lost to the fire. It doesn’t matter. I feel a strange dislike at the thought of anyone but me teaching her anything.
“Not a skill, and I cannot see them,”Raina clarifies.“I only know what is necessary to do so.”
“Or you think you do. I fear you might’ve had an inadequate experience.” The moment those words leave my mouth, an image of her staring up at me, face soft and lips pillowy, hungered eyes reflecting golden candlelight, flashes through my mind. It’s so fast—there and gone. Not a memory, but perhaps a longing.
It’s the last thing I should do considering the struggle I feel when it comes to her, but I open my arms anyway, holding the blanket out, and spread my legs. “Come here. Let me show you.”
Her reservation is obvious, a war in her wide eyes and turmoil on her face. But after several moments of indecision, she moves toward me regardless. It seems I’m not the only one doing things I shouldn’t be doing.
To make the position more comfortable, I scoot until my back is against the stone behind me, and Raina carefully fits herself between my legs. It’s unnerving how much I want to draw her to me, to feel every curve of her body against mine. But the blanket and closeness will provide much needed warmth for us both. At least that’s what I tell myself as I fold my arms around her.
“You can relax,” I say near her ear, smothering a small smile. I know she loathes being so close to me, but I sense her thawing when it comes to the idea, so I can’t resist poking fun. “This is far easier if you’re not stiff as a tree. As long as you don’t try stabbing me like you did that scarecrow.”
