“It’s cold, Jack. Really cold, and I—”
I round on him, livid for reasons I can’t put into words. “That’s what you wanted, wasn’t it? More snow, longer winters? You wanted to be the biggest, baddest Winter around. Or was that all a show for Gaia’s benefit?”
“That was different! It wasn’t real.”
A layer of frost pushes its way to my surface. “Real for who?”
“Idiedout there!”
I shove his chest through the thick foam of the life vest. “That doesn’t mean you died in here!”
Through the window, the others are waiting. The inflatable boat is packed to the brim. There’s no room for any one of us to ride in it without sacrificing food or survival gear. There’s nothing more I can do for Chill. This is something he has to face on his own. I touch his chest again, gentler this time. “The only person holding you under the ice is you.”
I pull the door shut behind me. Water slaps the hull, and the wind whistles over the mast.
Fleur shivers as she hands me a life vest. “Where’s Chill?”
“He’ll come.” I move quickly, casting off the extra lines to the lifeboat. All I can do is keep moving us forward and hope Chill finds the courage to keep up.
Poppy’s long hair blows across her face. She scrapes it back, her eyes glued to the closed door. “Why isn’t he coming?” She starts for the cabin and I take her gently by the arm.
“Don’t,” I whisper. “He’ll come when he’s ready.”
Amber corners me as I move to secure the last remaining line to the lifeboat. “How the hell are we going to sink the boat if Chill’s still on it?”
“We won’t.”
“If we don’t sink the boat, the Coast Guard willfindit.”
“And Chill can get a ride to shore with them.”
“Are you out of your mind? Then Gaia and Chronos will know exactly where we...” The rest of Amber’s thought trails as the cabin door creaks open.
Chill stares down into the ink-black water, his hands shaking as he reaches for the buckles of his life jacket. He drags down the zipper and climbs onto the gunnel, his knuckles white around the rail. The others exchange anxious glances, but I know this precipice he’s standing on. It has nothing to do with conquering the cold. It’s about shedding fear. It’s about proving to himself that he isn’t afraid of dying anymore.
He shrugs off his life jacket and drops it over the side. With quick, shallow breaths, he watches it drift farther from the boat, and with a strangled cry, he plunges in. We all rush to the railing, the boat leaning precariously as we struggle to make out his shape in the dark. Julio leaps onto the gunnel. I grab his life jacket before he jumps.
I point to a shadowy figure in the water. Chill’s orange vest bobs between the moonlit waves like a raft. One arm holds it tightly to his chest. His other hand holds his glasses in place as he kicks steadily toward shore.
“Let him go. He’ll be okay,” I tell the others. To Julio, I whisper, “Stay close. Just in case.”
Julio jumps in, swearing when his body breaks the frigid surface. Three more splashes, as Poppy, Fleur, and Marie follow. Woody unhooks the stern line from the lifeboat and jumps in after them, towing our supplies behind him.
Amber and I are the only ones left. “Are you ready?” I ask her.
Her eyes are bright and alert as they follow the group’s progress. Then past it to dry land. “Definitely.”
I switch off the bilge pumps and reach inside, summoning frost to my hands until the hull splinters and cracks, leaving gaps so the sea can trickle in and claim it. It’s the first time I’ve used my magic since wefled the Observatory, and it feels like I’m running a marathon without a warm-up. When the hull begins to flood, I fall back against the deck, too exhausted to move.
Amber hauls me to the gunnel, checking the buckles on my life vest before pitching us both over the side. She grabs my hand, pulling me behind her through the murky water. Hers are every bit as warm as I remember them, but somehow not unbearable. Only once we’re swimming side by side does she let go.
25
Downwind
FLEUR
Chill stands alone at the water’s edge, his dripping life jacket limp in his arms, staring out at the darkness he just waded through. The rest of us crumple on the sand, listening to the waves breaking as the ocean swallows our boat whole.
