So cold.
So unbearably quiet.
The road stretches on beneath us, swallowed by drifting snow, the only sound the steady crunch of hooves and the faint creak of the carriage as it sways. I wrap my coat tighter around myself, but it does little to ease the hollow settling in my chest.
Even though Luceran rarely spoke, his presence had been a comfort, something solid. I find myself missing the way his knees knocked irritably against mine with every jolt of the road, the way he took up too much space without apology. I miss the way he watched me read, as though it soothed something restless in him, as if my quiet joy offered him a kind of peace.
How can I ache for closeness from a male who has always kept me at arm’s length, even when our bodies were pressed together with no space left to breathe?
I stare out into the white blur beyond the window, lost in that thought, when a glow of amber breaks through the snow ahead. Gradually, the shape sharpens, and I recognize it at once.
The Wayside.
As we draw closer, the familiar sound reaches me. Laughter and music, the rise and fall of voices, carried on the warm air.
One of the sprites leans over the edge of the driver’s bench, tapping insistently at the window to get my attention. It chatters rapidly, a tumble of strange syllables that make my brow furrow.
Oddly, I understand.
Not the words exactly, but the meaning beneath them.
It wants to know if I wish to stop.
The inviting warmth and noise of the inn tug at me, but a stop would be a delay.
And I want to get home… I mean… get toCastle Frostwyn.
I hesitate only a moment before shaking my head.
The sprite nods in understanding. The horses press on, and the carriage rolls past The Wayside without slowing, the glow and music fading behind us until only the dark remains.
I lean back against the seat, exhaling slowly.
The steady turn of the wheels and the soft creak of wood begin to lull me. The cold seeps deeper, my breath misting in the air, and I curl into the corner of the seat, pulling my coat tight around me, arms tucked beneath my ribs, knees drawn up against my chest.
I do not mean to fall asleep.
But my eyes grow heavy all the same, fluttering shut just as the carriage slips from open snow into the darker hush of the forest.
The stillness does not last.
The carriage jolts hard, flinging me hard against the wall. The horses rear outside, whinnying sharply, the sound cutting through the night as my breath comes in a ragged gasp.
I lurch upright, grabbing for balance as the carriage sways beneath me. My gaze darts wildly from side to side as I wipe the fog from the window with my sleeve and press my face close to the glass. Towering silhouettes line the road on either side, long and warped, swaying unnaturally. Trees, I tell myself. Just trees. But then they move, closing in around the carriage.
A deep voice booms from outside. “Sprites! Quick! Get the nets!”
The sprites answer in a rush of frantic chatter, their sharp voices tumbling over one another. At first it sounds angry, defiant. Then it turns fearful. My fingers dig into the velvet cushions, knuckles aching as I strain to hear over the chaos. I catch the unmistakablesounds of men grunting, boots crunching through snow, and then, all at once, the noise cuts off.
I sit frozen, breathing hard, my pulse roaring in my ears as the quiet presses in until it feels heavy enough to crush me.
Move, Neve.
I scan the carriage desperately for something to defend myself with, but there is nothing. Only pillows, blankets, and curtains.
Then the door swings open. I do not think. I seize the only thing within reach, my book, gripping it with both hands as I draw it back over my shoulder and swing with everything I have. The impact lands solidly against the man’s face. He groans and stumbles backward, swearing, and that is all the opening I need.
I leap from the carriage, landing on top of him as he crashes into the ground. He buckles beneath my weight, falling flat on his back with a grunt of pain. I straddle him, pinning his arms with my knees, and scream as I bring the book down again and again, striking wildly, desperately, fear lending strength to every blow.
