It’s just past dawn when I leave the inn and step out into the cold Thermian air. It’s winter in Vernallis too, but I swear the moment we crossed the border the temperature dropped by half. I’m glad to have the red cloak, and wrap it more tightly around myself as I march down the empty street heading north.
Before I’ve walked ten paces, a low whistle cuts through the frigid air. “Going somewhere?”
I stop, turning to find a figure leaning against the weathered boards of the inn. Fox smirks at me, one boot propped against the wall, arms folded across his chest.
“What did you do, run all the way back to Vernallis to get your clothes?” I ask sharply, taking in his familiar armor and the twin swords strapped to his back. “That’s insane. You should have just stayed there.”
Icy gaze still fixed on me, he pushes off the building and closes the space between us in two strides. “If you’re insistent on this suicide mission, I’m going with you.”
“No,” I snap, too tired to think of anything more intelligent to say. “You can’t. The wolf was bad enough, but I’m not okay with this.” I gesture vaguely at him, indicating his very male, not at all wolf-like body.
“What are you going to do?” he smirks. “You can’t beat me in a fight, you’re never going to convince me?—”
I put a hand up to cut him off. “Alright, I’ve got it.”
He presses his lips together in a flat line, which I swear is hiding a smug smile.Asshole.
I throw my hands up. “Fine, do whatever you want, but Thermia is a big place. You don’t even know where I’m going or why.”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“It should,” I snap. “Did Beatrix put you up to this?”
His brow furrows. “Does Beatrix know where you are?”
“Yes. If she told Daemon and Alix and they sent you or…”
“No one sent me.”
“That’s worse! What will everyone think when they notice we’ve both disappeared? What about the army?”
“The army can run itself for a while,” he says flatly. “And if they can’t, I’ll know they’re never going to function in a real battle.”
“What about everyone else? Daemon and Alix, Jett, Kas and Odessa…”
“You’re right, they’ll worry,” he says sardonically. “That seems like a good reason to go home.”
I scowl. “I don’t like…whatever this is.”
“What?”
“This,” I gesture vaguely at him again. “You. You’re in a surprisingly good mood considering I am telling you I do not want you here. I do not want to talk to you. Please leave me the fuck alone.”
“And you’re in a surprisinglybadmood,” he retorts, disregarding the rest of my statement. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say ‘fuck’ before.”
“Oh, really? I wonder what could possibly befuckingwrong.”
He can’t keep himself from smiling at that, and the dimple appears in his cheek. It only infuriates me more.
My mood doesn’t improve as I trudge through the woods, Fox following closely behind me.
We walk for hours, the frigid air seeming to grow colder by the hour. Eventually, it begins to snow. The wind tears through the skeletal branches overhead, a mournful howl that seemsto chase us between the trees. Enormous white flakes quickly accumulate, and our boots sink with every step as the snow piles up around us.
Despite my cloak, the cold seeps through to my bones, sending an involuntary shudder rippling across my shoulders.
Fox glances over at me. “You’re cold.”
“No,” I lie. “I’m fine.”
