“Will Thyra… The woman I love… The woman who gave me hope… The woman I would fight to the death to protect… Will she die because of me?”
Chapter Nine
Stellen
The Oracle is too light in my arms, as if the weight of her soul is already lifting from her body.
Her lips are white, and her fingers have turned a terrible shade of blue.
I slip from my wolf’s back, my arms shaking as they haven’t shaken in years, a nameless fear pushing at me.
The Oracle…Thyra… Her heartbeats are dangerously weak in my ears, the dying thuds wrenching at memories I can’t acknowledge because they have the power to tear me apart.
I tell myself: loss does not control me.
No more.
“Hold on,” I command her, a harsh order even if she can’t hear it.
The faintest flicker of golden energy shines across her exposed forearm, where it drops at her side, but whatever final pulse of magic caused it is quickly swept away.
I chose to cross the border and race into the snow, determined to reach the nearest tower as quickly as I could. I judged it the safest option, but that was a mistake. The momentwe passed into the snowstorm, Thyra shuddered, and her heartbeat stopped.
For too many seconds, I heard nothing within her chest.
Then her lips parted, the briefest exhalation of unexplainable warmth emitting before her heartbeats faltered to life again.
Now I lay her down on the snow, trying to sweep my cloak beneath her, not that it will keep the ice from chilling her bones.
Nara drops beside her, exposing her belly to share what little warmth she has with Thyra. My wolf’s soft whimpers tell me she knows she can’t do much to help, but still she tries.
I judge the distance to the tower, but it’s too far through this raging storm. Thyra will succumb to death halfway there.
The only way to save her now is to take the truly dangerous path.
“I have no choice,” I whisper to the Oracle, as if I could convince fate not to close its jaws around me as easily as the wind snatches away my words. “It’s the only way to save you.”
Theworstway to save her.
Carefully, I rest the fingertips of my right hand on her temple, then the fingertips of my left hand against the opposite side of her throat, pressing lightly to both pulse points.
This magic will require both of my powers. My frost power, along with a Lethian song so devastating, it was forbidden. My mother taught it to me in a moment of despair. She begged me to use this song on her because only with my dual powers could it work as she desperately wanted.
I refused. I was afraid I’d kill her. But I lost my family, anyway.
Closing my eyes, exhaling softly, I give myself a moment to allow the freezing air to leave my chest, a soundless expelling,before I draw the air in again, focusing solely on the way it flows past my vocal cords.
Rusty vocal cords that could betray me.
Once my breathing calms, I draw on my frost power, the smallest, invasive trickle forming in the fingertip I press to her temple, creating a needle-sharp thread to pierce her mind.
With it, I seek the smallest sparks of her warmth and heart, the glimmers of energy that transform her thoughts and experiences into emotions.
Joy…love…hope…sadness… Even anger.
To use my power to mess with her mind like this is perilous. I could accidentally paralyze her. Leave her unable to speak. Cause her so much mental damage, she might not function afterward.
I remind myself it’s the only way.
