HarperCollins Publishers
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Mather
CONFRONTING THE CORDELLANsoldiers must have been the final blow to William’s resolve, because ever since, Mather had been swarmed with tasks. Menial, mundane tasks, when for the weeks prior, he hadn’t been missed. William gave him chores sent through other channels—Finn telling him that planks of wood needed sanding, Greer recruiting him to scrub dishes. Mather didn’t see William at all, and in not seeing him, he grew more infuriated.
Mather deserved to have William shout at him for the defiant thing he had done—not that he regretted it, but had they been back at their nomadic camp and Mather had stood against him, William would have made him learn firsthand the meaning of the wordobedience. That was how he punished them—well, mostly Meira, in all honesty: by making sure they learned how each soldier needed to beperfectfor a mission to be a success.
But in this new life, William did not reprimand him. He didn’t scold him or revisit what had happened—he just moved on from it, dismissing the event without a backward glance.
This was the final blow to Mather’s resolve too. The final bit of proof that he was exactly where Winter needed him to be: building a defense. Because with leaders like William avoiding everything, it wouldn’t take more than a handful of soldiers to tear down Winter.
And they already had far more than a handful of soldiers among them.
Mather ducked down a narrow alley out of some lingering instinct to make his path scattered and chaotic so he couldn’t be followed. Not that it would be difficult to figure out where he had been going every night after he finished his list of chores—there were only so many inhabited streets. But he still took his time until he popped out two buildings down from the Thaw’s cottage and allowed himself a small sigh of relief.
His sigh bit off when he noted the figure slouched over the steps, shuffling around, metal clanking. A Cordellan soldier? Had someone finally found their secret trainings?
Readiness calmed Mather’s nerves, the still of attack. He launched forward, grabbed the person’s neck, and flung them out into the darkening street.
But he had felt long hair on the person’s neck. And not armor on their shoulders, but linen, and when the intruderhit the ground they released a cry that sounded much too . . . feminine.
Though the sun had started to fall toward the horizon, enough light remained that when Mather’s eyes locked on the intruder’s face, he sprang forward and swooped her to her feet.
Snow, not a soldier at all—Alysson.
She blinked in a daze, her eyes catching his and crinkling in an unspoken question.
He grimaced. “I thought you—” he started, bit back the end of it. “I’m sorry.”
Alysson put one hand on his shoulder like she wasn’t steady until she touched him, made surehewas all right. “You thought I was a Cordellan?”
Mather frowned as the door to the cottage burst open. Phil stumbled out, everyone else behind him, but he didn’t get far before his foot caught on a bundle leaning against the top step. The bundle Alysson had been crouched over.
Phil stopped, one of their mock swords clutched in his fist. They must’ve heard Alysson’s cry of surprise during their self-led training, and as Mather looked up at them, all the blood in his body surged downward. Alysson was here, staring up at Phil and his wooden sword, and she would see just how much Mather had disobeyed William.
But Alysson didn’t seem the least bit aghast. In fact, she seemed amazed.
Her hand went slack on Mather’s shoulder. “You’vegotten these results usingsplinters?”
Mather’s jaw swung open, shut, open again. “What?”
“Hey!”
Rattling, the dull thump of iron. Phil bent on the top step, rustling through the bundle. A thick blanket fell away, revealing weapons. Swords, daggers, a bow, and a fistful of arrows.
Everyone gazed at the weapons spilling in a deadly waterfall down the stairs. Mather especially, his hungry eyes calculating how many swords, how many knives. Seven swords. Eight daggers—four sets.
He turned back to Alysson, who now had her arms crossed as she watched the Thaw pick their way down the steps, maneuvering around the weapons as though disturbing them at all would cause them to vanish.
“Where did you get these?” Mather asked, his hands shaking as if he already knew her answer, already felt the repercussions wafting through him. “How did youknow?”
Alysson turned a soft smile to him and opened it in an almost mocking laugh. “I spent sixteen years in a camp surrounded by fighting. You think I can’t recognize when a group of children, who should be just as scrawny as the rest of the malnourished Winterians, have the beginnings of muscle definition? When they should be unsteady and weak, but hop down the street with, dare I say,grace?” She clucked her tongue. “I know I never picked up a sword myself, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t pay attention.”
Mather choked. “You knew? Youknow? Who else—and where did you get—”
Ice above, just finish a sentence.
