Page 51

I didn’t dare try to readjust beyond pulling the cloak’s hood farther over my head, terrified I’d fall off the horse. Every small movement had me feeling like I was seconds away from falling onto my face. My hips were numb, the tops of my thighs soaked through where the cloak kept splitting open. The pants Shelby had put me in were warm, but they clung to my skin the more snow melted and seeped through them. My fingers were freezing, but every time I tried to wrap them in my cloak, Elyssian pulled and shook her head, disliking something I was somehow communicating with her. And, to top it all off, my ankle kept getting sharp pricks of pain any time I actually put weight on it in the stirrup. It was, hopefully, just from my hips being perpetually half-numb, but worry settled heavily in my stomach anyway.

My thumb started aching with cold again, and I dropped the reins, finally giving up any pretense of steering Elyssian. I eyed the thick rope that connected me to Callum’s horse by way of a sturdy knot on the horse’s halter. Bridle? I wasn’t actually sure what the piece of leather was called. All I knew was that my horse was obsessed with keeping as close to Callum’s as she could, sometimes bumping into the other horse and causing Callum to gently correct her path with the same confidence he’d displayed doing literally everything at this point.

My hands burned as they slowly warmed up, and I held back a violent sob by the skin of my teeth. I hoped Sloane had ended up somewhere warmer than this snowy mountain range. A piece of snow landed on my cheek, melting before I could brush it away. It dripped down my cheek like a tear, mirroring the actual tears that had fallen over the last half hour when I hadn’t been fast enough to blink them away.

My usual desire to fight was stuffed in a box, buried under trauma I had thought dealt with for years now. The group had become more wary of me since that first breakfast. Now, the only one not at least a little cautious around me was Joseph. I tried to sit next to him when I could, but that seemed to make people more agitated.

I was messing something up, some expectation I didn’t understand and didn’t have the words to ask because the moment I admitted just how out of my depths I was, questions would come that I couldn’t answer if I wanted to be able to get back to Sloane somehow. A scream built under my sternum, but I held it back. I just wanted to yell at them all that I had no idea what was happening, had no clue how I’d ended up on a horse in the middle of a mountain pass more intimidating than the freaking Alps engaged to a literal prince. But the moment I let even a syllable drop about that, all hell would probably break loose.

Another rider came up along Callum’s other side. It was one of the guard—he wore the heavy plate armor that covered his chest and upper thigh even as he rode. The adjustment forced Callum to close the bit of distance between us, his arm brushing mine again even as he leaned toward the other man. It left him close enough that the guard didn’t need to yell to be heard above the small chatter happening all around us.

Not that it would matter. The translation spell didn’t work on whatever was being said, that language they’d sometimes use that had the long, flowing syllables that reminded me of a lullaby. Callum nodded and said something back in the same language. After another minute, the guard sped up, returning to where he’d been before, flanking Elise and Tabitha in front of us. Callum guided his horse back toward the right to give us more room, but mine just followed him. His lips flipped in a small smile before he ran a hand down her neck.

Amaria came up on my other side, her eyes on me rather than the group in front of us.

“Amethyst?” she asked.

I swallowed and turned toward her. The hood of my cloak fell off again, catching on one of the metal leaves Shelby had woven into the bun sitting on the nape of my neck. Her lips twisted as she readjusted the fabric and then tucked a stray piece of hair behind my ear. The move was so similar to Sloane’s mannerisms. It was impossible to blink back the tears now. Amaria wiped a few of them away as her eyebrows furrowed with worry.

God, this was so embarrassing. I wasn’t the emotional sister. I hardly ever cried. And yet it seemed to be my new default since waking up in that little room nearly a week ago.

A week ago.

Amaria said something in that language, her gaze flicking from me to Callum. His leg brushed mine as he grabbed the rope between our horses and effortlessly pulled us to the side and out of the way, allowing the rest of the large group to pass by us. Vincent paused on the other side of the path, his eyes on the sky, worry in the set of his shoulders. One of the guards paused. I tried to remember his name, but it slipped from my hold.

Callum said something, and he nodded, quietly urging the group to continue without us. I shivered as the group disappeared deeper into the trees, the path curving around the mountain and out of sight. Vincent, Amaria, and Shelby were with us, their horses stamping with impatience. Or maybe they were cold, too. Emma had stayed, too, her hand running down the neck of one of the large pack horses that carried only bags of supplies. It was connected to her horse by a similar rope as my own. The guard who’d initially talked to Callum paused at the edge of the curve, his eyes trained on the forest surrounding the pathway rather than us or the larger group ahead.

Without a word, Emma dropped out of her saddle and pulled one of the bags from the pack horse, handing it to Callum.

“Thank you,” he murmured. “You’re free to go stand with Tegan. He’ll shield you from the snow.”

He didn’t move until she’d done just that, stopping just beside the guard who lifted his hands, forming an unseen barrier between them and the falling snow. Then, Callum guided my horse into the center of the pathway before dismounting, dropping into the snow with the grace of a snow leopard. He took out a small gold coin, glancing over his shoulder toward where the rest of the group had continued on. Then he set the coin in the snow between our horses. The air shimmered like it had on Magefall, the snow no longer falling around me and the wind ceasing.

“Why are you using that?” I asked, nerves twisting my stomach.

“In case there are nosy ears in the trees,” he said, “who have no right to hear my personal conversations.”

He draped the bag Emma gave him over his saddle, carefully digging through it. Vincent quietly approached, moving out of the way of Elyssian as she shook her head at his nearness. He took the bag once Callum had pulled a swath of fabric from it. Callum walked around Elyssian, palming her flank like he was letting her know where he was, before pausing just behind my hip. He held the ubiquitous brown fabric out to me.

I should just take it, should press it against my stomach and not ask any more questions that will add to the house of cards I was currently trying to keep from toppling. Over the smells of the forest, the wisteria scent that clung to Callum rushed over me. Why was he even giving me a piece of his clothing when there had been entire bags worth of options set aside for me?

I frowned and kept my hands tucked under the cloak.

He said something I couldn’t understand, holding the fabric out to me. I clenched my hands, my nails biting into my palms, as the urge to scream and cry and feel something shatter in my hands rose through me, swift enough it stole my breath. Angry tears lined my lashes. Callum frowned, worry overtaking his irritation. He wordlessly eased me from the saddle, keeping his arm tight around my waist as my legs buckled under me. The wisteria scent grew stronger.

“Steady,” he murmured.

My teeth chattered.

“Trying,” I whispered with too much anger.

He circled my wrist for a heartbeat and then held out the fabric. When I just stared at it, he said, “Take my sweater.”

I carefully held my hand out, and he set the piece of clothing in my palm. It was thick and heavy. It took me a minute to realize it was what he’d worn to sleep the night before. For some reason, I wanted to bury my nose in the fabric and breathe in that strange floral scent that clung to him. His eyes grew molten the longer we stared at each other, the color slowly swirling as our breaths mingled. I forced a swallow and looked down at the sweater.

He took a step away, and I canted to the side as I lost my balance. Those horrible pins and needles shot through my foot and shin, and I cried out. It felt nearly as bad as all the mending Reuben had done over the last few days. Tears blurred my vision.

Callum grabbed my elbows and steadied me without hesitation.