“By these charts,” Caspian muses, “it’s a tunnel.” He looks up at Irahn. “I could move the briars for you.”
“These paths were important to the assassin. Otherwise, they wouldn’t be marked on the map,” Rosalina says. “We need to see what’s beyond.”
Irahn lets out an exasperated sigh, then shifts his gaze to me. “You want me to take the man who betrayed my people and ripped a hole in the bloody world down into the chasm? The chasm where his folk are fighting to make their way up and wreak havoc on our lands?”
“I do,” I say.
“Do you trust him?” Irahn asks.
I glance at Caspian. Never in my life did I imagine saying anything but a shrieking “no” to such a question. But I felt it, back in Hadria. The anguish in his heart when Dayton died. Not just her pain filtering through our bonds buthispainather pain.
“I trust him,” I say.
Caspian makes a breathy sigh, but I don’t look at him. I can trust someone without liking them.
Irahn claps his hands and walks over to grab his coat. “Then get ready, briar boy. We’ve got work to do.”
26
Dayton
Ibloody hate Winter. Why does all this stuff have to behappening in the land of cold and ice? Heat, I can handle. Balls dripping in sweat, sand so hot it sears the skin from your feet—no fucking problem. But if I have to spend one more moment on this icy slab of a mountain, I swear my dick is going to freeze off, and then I’ll really be pissed.
“You doing alright, Day?” Farron looks over his shoulder at me. He’s wrapped in a heavy woolen coat, dark maroon fabric flecked with ice crystals. The hood has flown back to reveal his windswept hair.
“Oh yes, just peachy.” I force a grin on my face. “At least when we had to climb a mountain in Spring, we could ride goats.”
“They were ibexes.” Farron smiles. “It’s too steep and icy to take horses up here.”
Sucking in a mouthful of air, I try to focus on the walk. If I have to look on the bright side—which Rosie always tells me to do—I suppose it’s nice to use my body after so long cooped up at Keep Wolfhelm and on the airship. I need to concentrate on my steps, can’t let myself get too lost in my thoughts.
It’s easy to forget everything when I’m buried deep in Rosie or when Fare’s fucking me so hard, I see stars. But in other moments, the rare times I’m alone…that’s when it all creeps in.
You were dead.
Of all the people in the world, it was damned Caspian that saved me? He did it for Rosie, obviously. A part of me thinks I should be grateful. He saved Delphie from having a burden forced on her that she doesn’t want, from parting me from Rosie and Fare. He gave me back the life I love.
But another part of me feels…wrong.
I wrap my scarf tighter around my face. “Hey, Fare, distract me with some facts about this volcano.”
A smile lights up his pink cheeks. His voice cuts through the biting wind. “Mount Rhuvenmark has been dormant for thousands of years,” he begins, “but there are old stories that tell of how it once erupted so violently, it carved valleys and rivers into the land around it. All of Winter was born from its fire.” He glances up at the peak towering ahead. “The mountain used to be taller until the top blew clean off. The blast was so strong, the ash fell for miles. Or so the stories say.”
“Or so the stories say. Well, I’m glad old Rhuvenmark blew his load thousands of years ago,” I say. “Saves us a bit of a climb.”
Farron waits for me to catch up. Pulling off his mittens, he holds them in his teeth, then digs out Pointy’s map. “The entrance to the mountain should be somewhere around here.”
I snatch the gloves from his mouth. “Put these on so your fingers don’t freeze.”
He grins up at me, looking adorable as always. “Alright, then find the entrance.”
Narrowing my gaze, I stare at the rocky cliffside, trying to see past the blur of snow. “There,” I say, pointing. “The rocks are darker. I think that’s a way in.”
Grabbing Farron’s arm, I lead us closer. There’s a small opening, barely visible. We both have to duck, but inside, the cavern opens up. Before us, a tunnel stretches, gray stone flecked with veins of shimmering frost. Stalactites hang like frozen teeth from the ceiling, but some of them are…dripping.
“Is it supposed to be this warm?” I ask, working on the buttons of my thick fur cloak.
“The rock blocks the windchill,” Farron murmurs, scrunching his nose.
