42
Maren
On the third day of our ascent into the Sylus Mountains, the cold air began to truly seep into my skin.
The mountains here were different from the ones in Leihani. Water lingered in the wind, unwilling to answer my call, the air too dry. When we dismounted for a bite to eat, I dug out my woolen blanket, tucking it around my front and under my legs. Then wound Kye's scarf around my neck, hauling my new fur cloak back over my shoulders.
Built into the side of the mountain, tiny cabin shelters hugged the trail. Rock had been torn away, Kye explained, by catapults fifty years ago when Calderians routed the pass and carved the resting points out of the mountainside. The open wounds lay visible in the scars and craters left behind. I marveled at how a catapult had been hauled to this height—and the higher rest stops as well. The Calderians must have aimed them almost vertically.
The fourth morning, I woke up to the mountain covered in ghostly mist.
The sun had risen but hadn’t yet come into view. Dawn was a long-awaited development in the high mountains. Wisps of light peered through the cracks of the trailside cabin we’d found. We’d been cautious at first, knowing the Rivean guards were behind us. But in the days that had passed, we hadn’t seen a soul. Perhaps they thought we’d fall into the army hands. Perhaps they thought the mountains would simply kill us.
Kye sat awake beside me, leaning on the wall, his legs still tucked into his bedroll. The mountain wind had whipped the skin of his cheeks raw and red, reminding me painfully of what he looked like when I’d first seen him on the beach of Neris Island.
Even with his skin abused by the cold, he was almost too beautiful to look at. I gestured to his face. “Should’ve waited to shave.”
He smiled, running a hand down one cheek where blunt grew. “Aalto knows I regret it. This porcelain skin wasn’t made for such abuse.”
“Baby,” I teased. “The skin of a pampered life.”
He winked at me. My heart skittered.
I leaned into him as he strung an arm around my shoulder. We listened to the wind outside for a moment, then he sighed. “We should get moving.”
“I know,” I said, though I didn’t want to. But it had been my demand that had brought us here. I could hardly complain about the cold. The wind. The damp, and somehow, insufferably, thedry.
Not that I enjoyed the cabins either. Wood, wood, and wood. At least the wind here roared differently than the jealous sea. There was something lonely about the voice of the Sylus Mountains. Haunting and sad. Like a woman torn from her fate, left to wander and cry without purpose or reason.
And something deep within me spoke to it, though I didn’t know why.
Kye pressed a kiss into my temple and stood, shaking his legs free of his wrappings, then crawled out of the cabin to start the fire outside. I wrapped my furs around myself, immediately lamenting his exit. Flint scraped, followed by soft, crackling whispers from beyond the door, and I marveled at how he’d been able to persuade flame into existence here, in the wet cold of the mountains.
When Kye thrust his head inside a few minutes later with a cup of piping hot tea, I gave him a look of profound gratitude.
“Horses are ready,” he said, taking a sip before handing our single cup to me. “Let’s go.”
The trail was wide enough for only one rider at a time, the edge barricaded by nothing but open air. One wrong step would be all it took to find the bottom.
I followed Kye slowly, gazing across the deep mountainside in heavy thought. The meadows at the base of the cliffs hid under the mist like dust under a rug, their size and shape visible only askance. From far above, I silently pressed the clouds away, shielding against the water droplets in the air as we forged ahead. At least the mist was wet enough to respond. Moisture bounced away under my command, affording us the thin ability to watch our footing under the sweep of rock ahead.
It was draining work. Leading Kolibri, scaling the gradient, and dispatching the fog left me dragging behind. We avoided speaking unless necessary, passing warnings of unstable ground or hidden patches of ice. Although I’d opened a pathway, the rocks and grasses remained slick with frost that I couldn’t swipe away as easily as water. And the snow grew deeper, crunching under the horses’ hooves.
I waited for the trail to disappear under the rumored avalanche. I knew we’d reach it soon. Breathless from riding upthe mountainside and warding off the windchill, a sharp scent reached me.
“It's going to rain. Or snow,” I amended, unsure if the scent would be different.
Kye stopped, tilting his head back and holding his palms up, waiting for his own evidence. “The sky is blue through the fog.”
He was right. The sky was blue, deep and pure. I frowned and began climbing again.
Twenty minutes later, dark clouds crept in over our heads. Thirty minutes later, the first delicate flakes of ice kissed our heads and shoulders.
Thirty-five minutes later, we were lost in a flurry.
Darkness pressed over the sky. Snow blanketed the rock in a thin layer of white, growing by the minute. The mist became opaque, a mixture of wicked vapor and angry snow, swirling all around us.
I couldn’t see Kolibri’s ears. Wind howled, stealing all other sound. The water in the air had grown too cold and thick to answer my call.
