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I wanted to tell him everything—every moment of the last three years—and close the gap between us. So. Very. Much. To have him give me some sort of absolution because he seemed to be the only one I would accept that from. But that wasn’t why I was there, and I needed to find the dark part of me that had kept me going for so long.

I focused on the dancing flames and the deep red embers in the hearth and took myself back to that night. “Frickel deserved worse.”

“Yes,” Aster said, his tone light but humourless. “He did. Most of the Barren do. And I believe you’ll be their reckoning, Feather.”

For one beat, the whole cabin went silent apart from the pop of firewood and the gentle pattering of snowflakes against the glass. Our eyes locked and lingered, saying with a look everything we couldn’t voice.

18

The cabin smelt of ointment and stew, and my mind was fuzzy with pain and hunger. Aster must have seen it, for he came to stand in front of me with a large bowl of stew from a pot hanging at the side of the fire and set it in my hands. Ignoring the burning of my tongue, I gulped it down and then dunked the bread in it and ate that. It was the simplest of foods and the best I had ever tasted.

He held out a strip of clean linen in his hands. But instead of wrapping it around my throat, he cupped my jaw and lifted it until our eyes met. “You’ll have to save your hatred for Torran. Right now, he’s the reason no one in that hall pushed for you to be handed back to the Barren. He’s the reason I have the codex.” He pointed to a bag I hadn’t seen him carrying.

“You can’t seriously want me to be grateful?”

“I’m asking you to stay alive,” he warned. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted.” He turned to stoke the fire, and once he had regained his composure, he tied the bandage at the side of my neck with deft fingers, careful not to brush too much skin. “Eat more.” He shoved the plate with bread and cheese toward me.

I ate fast at first, then slower when the first vicious edge of hunger had been satisfied.

Because once I could think, I remembered where I was, who he had become, and how little time we had.

“No one is out tonight,” I said, setting the cup down. “That’s why they wanted me washed and quiet and tucked away in here, isn’t it? Because even the bravest Earthworld fool knows not to wander on Yule.”

Aster leaned one shoulder against the mantel, arms crossed. “Doors will be barred. Fires banked. Most will stay with family.”

“Even Torran?”

At the question, his expression altered in a way I couldn’t read.

“Even Torran avoids unnecessary flying on Yule nights,” he said. “The sky is unstable. Over in the Wilds, dangerous things cross the veil. There is an old Sky Tower on the border that he and Kit will have flown to. They’ll be back at first light to get you and…”

I set the bread down. “So this is the only chance to get out of here and not be seen? I know I have to fix the codex, but I want to find the other Annatalians and get to Ember. She’s in trouble.”

Aster didn’t answer immediately, which was answer enough.

“What are you planning?”

His gaze sharpened. “I’m always planning something.”

“Don’t flirt. It doesn’t suit this version of you.” I pointed at the oath on his wrist.

That dragged my mind back to my oath and the codex. And then to the little book still hidden in my pocket, humming now and then as if it disapproved of how long I had left it untended. Then there was Morlan’s warning. And the way Bronwen and the Seer had stared at me as if I were a key they intended to turn.

“They think you need to go to one of the great libraries—the Phoenix Order power is still strong enough there for a book to be mended and for the words to come back. There is one far on the Borders. It helps that you’ll be out of the way, now you look like…”

“Me. Now that I look like me…” I frowned. “There is somewhere else?”

“Bronwen. The Seer. Torran. Kit. Word will spread, and as soon as more know who you really are, all the fools’ll be trying to work out how to use you.”

“And you?”

“We’ve used each other for mutual benefit.”

But that didn’t tell me what he wanted now.

I reached for the bread and ran it around the bowl to give my hands something to do. “So, this library?”

He pushed off the mantel and crossed to a shelf, pulling down a folded strip of leather, which, when opened, revealed a rough map inked in dark brown lines. He spread it on the table between us and anchored the corners with a knife, the salve pot, the heel of bread, and the cup.