Close friends.
Like me and Bee.
‘You’re like a sister to me,’ she said once, and it was strange to hear, because I had a sister, and she died before I ever knew her, and so I don’t mourn her, and then my mum died, and I had no one but this friend who called herself my sister.
I never had that sort of deep love in a friend before.
But Samick and this fae do have that.
I see it in the pair of them.
The dark-haired fae with ocean eyes, and Samick who stares back in an unwavering moment between them.
Brothers.
The thought lands heavy and hollow.
Then the moment is gone—because we pass.
And pass more fae.
And more.
Then the kuris at the end of the other unit.
The humans walk in formation, just like their warriors. In pairs.
But something’s different about them. Or the way that they are kept.
None of those kuris have been gifted with boots and jackets and extra food. They are tattered, in ruins, and barely upright as they stagger behind the warriors.
And I don’t see her among them.
Bee isn’t with that unit.
A sadness sinks my gut. And with it, the other unit passes by entirely, headed for the prison.
My chin brushes my shoulder.
The look of longing I spare them is noticed by Samick. Again, his grip flexes on the rope, this time to tug me that bit closer to him.
I look up at him.
And I know he reads it on me.
For some reason, I just thought I would see her with that unit. Maybe it was his tension before we passed the others, maybe it was stupid naïve hope.
But I thought I would see Bee’s face among them.
My face falls and I look ahead to the woods we’re advancing on. The icy terrain wobbles us all the way to the trees.
And once we’re in, spreading out just so we’re not tripping and tumbling over each other, a quiet rests over us.
The ground is the same in the woods—ice. Ridged, curving, rocky ice.
At least the winds don’t lash us in here, not with the covering of thick trunks all around us.
But that doesn’t relax me.
