Colden slices that black gaze across the room and arches a perfect brow. “As well as you know me, do you really think I fear the Eastlanders for myself? If they come for me, I’ll turn their army into ice statues for courtyard decorations, hang the Prince of the East’s icy balls on Winterhold’s gates, and dance on the shards of his pathetic,frozen bones.” Jaw clenched, he turns back to the fire as though some answer to our predicament lies in the flames and ashes. “It’s the Northland people I’m concerned about, Alexus. I can’t be everywhere at once.”
I raise a brow. To anyone else, I’m sure his threat would sound convincing, but I know better. The truth that Colden won’t speak aloud is that the Prince of the East scares him, for more reasons than he cares to admit.
For one, the prince is said to bear the stains of walking in the Shadow World—another rumor, and one I don’t believe. It’s been centuries since someone crossed the Shadow World’s dark shores. He was no mere man and wouldn’t have survived otherwise. For two, Colden’s feelings for the prince are…complicated. They always have been. It’s a subject I haven’t broached with him in some thirty years and a topic I gladly avoid.
I’ve often wondered what might happen if Colden ever found himself forced to stand against the Prince of the East, though. If their past is any indication, I fear he would fail, terribly, at being as vicious as he claims. Years of pent-up bitterness can lead to hatred. That’s true enough. But I know my king. His bitterness toward the prince is a mask, one meant to hide a broken heart that has never healed.
I hold my hands up in mock defense. “I’m only trying to ease your mind. It’s hearsay. There’s no need for upheaval until we have more evidence.”
He drops into the chair beside me, and his irritated expression morphs into concern. “I also worry foryou. I’ve had dreams,” he says, his brows pinched. “No, not dreams,” he clarifies. “Nightmares. For a while now.”
We’ve been back and forth about this situation since he arrived, but this is the first time he’s mentioned nightmares.
I gesture toward him. “Go on.”
“It’s like the Ancient Ones are warning me that danger is coming,” he says, “yet I don’t know how to stop it. All I know is that I fear the Eastlanders have discovered what I’ve been hiding, and that you don’t need to be in the vale tonight.”
Though I consider asking what he saw in his dreams to lead him tosuch conclusions, I lean over and rest my hand on his bouncing knee instead. His foot stills.
“You can’t have it both ways, my friend. We can’t get the truth without a seer, and we can’t consult a seer if I don’t go to the vale. I must get the girl. It’s the only way to end this worry.”
The girl with no voice and no witch’s marks. The so-calledseer.
Raina Bloodgood.
Of all the names I might’ve written on my list, hers has never been a possibility. Not until this morning, anyway. Now that Nephele has decided to turn her sister into an asset.
Nephele has always been honest with me, or so I believed, but although she’s told me much about her younger sister, she’s never mentioned this valuable and hidden talent. Rather, she’s done everything in her power to protect Raina from ever making the journey with me along Winter Road.
I’ve always understood and agreed to leave Raina alone. In truth, I’ve never sensed strong enough power inside her to make her useful—not a witch’s mark one. But gods know a seer would’ve been a precious addition to Winterhold.
Why would Nephele deny the entire kingdom such rare protection? And if the girl is all Nephele claims, why isn’t her power visible with one glance?
I remind myself that Raina has long been a woman, not a girl. A woman whose face lingers in my mind when it has no reason to.
Colden fists his hand against his mouth, knuckles tight and white as snow. “She’d better be worth the risk I’m taking by allowing this.”
I pull my hand away from his knee. “You don’t trust Nephele’s word?”
I can’t blame him if he doesn’t. I even find myself doubting her, though the thought twists my insides. The truth I can’t ignore is that if Raina held such power, her skin would tell it.
Unless there’s greater magick at work.
“Of course I trust Nephele,” Colden answers. “But time blurs reality, or have you forgotten? Nephele and Raina have been apart for a long time. What Nephele remembers of her sister may not be the truth that exists now.”
Colden isn’t lying about Nephele’s wishes when it comes to Raina—I would sense it if he were—but it would help if Nephele were here. After eight years of swearing on my life to spare her sister the fate of duty at Winterhold, I don’t know how to feel about breaking my word.
I drag my hand over my beard. “The question is, are you willing to ignore the possibility that Raina has Sight, thanks to a bad feeling and a bad dream? If sheisa seer, and if the rumor about the Prince of the East betraying your agreement holds even a grain of truth, then we need her. Unwarranted concern for my safety cannot stand in the way of that. I’ve faced far worse things than another Collecting Day. I’ll be careful.”
“I could ride with you,” Colden offers, eyes unguarded. “Alone, you’re formidable. Together, we’re a force of nature.”
“Absolutely not. If there’s danger, we’re both safer if you’re home, and all of Tiressia is safer if you’re shielded by the Witch Walkers’ protections. Please do not argue with me on this. You will not win.”
He leans forward, resting his forehead on steepled fingers, and exhales a long, chilled breath that hangs in the air before floating away. I know his dilemma. I can feel his turmoil. It’s impossible not to worry about someone with whom you’ve shared so much.
We are, after all, like two halves of the same whole.
“Go then.” He lifts his head. “Ride fast. Go straight to Silver Hollow. Find the girl and get back to the forest as soon as possible. I don’t want you in the vale after dark.”
