I don’t react when the first thread returns to the Oracle’s body, wrapping gently across her back. Then the next. Then more.
One by one, they steal around her, reattaching themselves to each other, slipping through the gaps I’m careful to create between her body and mine while I make sure she remains secure and in no danger of falling.
Finally, the silver threads cover her body again, forming a tight-fitting suit of armor, leaving only her neck and head exposed, along with her right arm, where the blood bind has sullied the white ribbon.
I’m not surprised that the Lethian armor avoids contact with those runes. I’ve avoided touching them myself, although I won’t be able to keep that up forever.
The continuing silence behind us is unnerving. The number of vampyrs I killed on my way to the Oracle and the number that the Lethian threads slaughtered can only be a drop in the sea of the vampyr’s full population.
Perhaps they saw what happened to their brethren and are finally willing to forego the promise of blood so they don’t meet the same fate.
Or perhaps there is another reason…
Far,farbehind us, I detect the ringing clash of iron blades along with the rush of billowing flames.
Too far away to tell for sure, but the darkness that spread across the Frost Kingdom may well have extended into the Iron and Ember Kingdoms too.
Whatever the reason, the air remains clear and quiet around us, a reprieve I sorely needed.
But now I face new problems.
Ahead of us, only a hundred paces away, the sky above the Frost Kingdom sparkles with new snow. The bloodlands’ northernmost side sits right at the southern border of my kingdom. Night was falling when I left, and now that it’s taken hold, a flurry of snow brings freezing temperatures.
The Frost kingdom is never so cold as it is at night.
I have no furs to cover the Oracle, nothing to keep her warm, and barely any body warmth to share with her.
My kingdom is most vulnerable to attack at night when even we Frost Fae retreat into our homes—a fact the previous Iron King tried to use against us, only to the detriment of his troops, most of whom died of hypothermia.
I am the only Frost Fae who can walk these storms at night, withstanding even the sharpest freeze. I do not feel it.
A gust of wind brings a hint of the icy temperatures that will hit us the moment we pass across the bloodlands’ border.
The Oracle immediately shivers in my arms, the heaviness of her body confirming she’s still unconscious, but her sudden shudder warns me she won’t survive long in a snowstorm.
Equally dangerous is allowing her to go much longer without hydration and healing.
But what choice should I make?
Do I stay within the bloodlands until morning and hope she’ll survive the night, rather than risk carrying her into a snowstorm?
Or do I rush her to the nearest tower, many of which have a healer, and hope she’ll survive the long and treacherous minutes it will take to get there?
Even the nearest tower is set back five hundred paces from the bloodlands’ border, a deliberate distance to allow visibility and time to mount a defense in the unlikely event of a vampyric attack. Unlikely because the brightly lit sky above the Frost Kingdom has always deterred the dark creatures and even during snowstorms, the starlight is made brighter by countless reflections off glistening snowflakes.
If we do make it to a tower in time, what will happen?
Until this moment, I’ve ignored the fact that I don’t trust any of the healers. It’s for that reason I didn’t seek help when an assassin’s knife hit so close to my heart two nights ago, leaving me with damage I’m certain diminished my icy power during my fight with the Iron King.
Or…there could be another way.
A far more dangerous option that would force me to open my mind to yet another memory I’ve long buried.
I snarl into the wind, furious at my choices.
With the next gust of freezing wind that breaks across the border, the Oracle’s shudder draws her closer to me while the frozen teardrop continues to cling to her pale cheek.
Despite her convulsion, her heartbeat is dangerously weak.
