The Ruin of Snow

by Lacy Sheridan

  I shivered. “When did it break?”

  “When the lords said it could, or when there were too few of us alive to make it a battle worth fighting.”

  Another long silence. “Would you teach me to fight?”

  They paused, blinking. “Teach you to fight?”

  The question surprised me as well, and I stared at them, trying to wrap my mind around it. Had I asked Kye—Kye, the former child-warrior—to teach me to fight? Someone who, on pure physical ability, could kill me in an instant? It was true I couldn’t fight, not in that way, not beyond the few pieces of defensive technique Mother had insisted we learn. Logically speaking, Kye was the surest option to learn from; they were highly skilled.

  I’d never asked anybody for such a thing outright. Not in my life.

  It had to be my imagination that I saw something in Kye’s golden eyes when they looked at me. “Alright.”

  Eighteen

  “I hear you’re learning to fight,” Aurynn said, folding her arms as she reclined against the wall across from me.

  “I know enough basics,” I said. “Kye is refining them. In case.”

  “In case your magic fails you, you mean?”

  Instinct said to brush it off, but I didn’t. “In case,” I repeated.

  “Well, you can’t go practice dressed like that.”

  I lifted one brow, looking at my dress. It was battered from my adventuring, and I couldn’t deny that my upbringing had spoiled me with fresh clothes every morning—now I got no better than hand-washing it alongside the others’ every few days—but it was wearable. Aurynn’s smirk spread to an amused smile.

  “Pants, Neyva. I have an extra pair if you want to use them.”

  I wanted to smack myself. I wasn’t used to dressing for practicality any more than when I’d left Acalta; as a Morningspell I had to put on a show no matter what my true intentions. “Thank you.”

  Aurynn nodded and pushed off the wall. “No need to thank me. We take care of each other here. That’s the deal, even for you.”

  Ten minutes later I was at the entrance, waiting for Kye. The loose shirt and pants Aurynn had given me were strange but comfortable, easy to move in and less likely to get in the way than my dress. There were no mirrors here, but between the clothes and the lack of makeup I would be unrecognizable as Neyva Morningspell.

  Good. I didn’t want to be her anymore.

  “What happened to the princess?” Kye asked as they appeared from the flickering shadows of the tunnels, a wooden practice sword in each hand.

  I tugged at a strand of hair, then forced my hands to my sides. “Dresses aren’t made to fight in.”

  “Fair enough.” They gestured to the entrance but didn’t wait for me: they never did. I wasn’t sure if it was because they didn’t care to or they knew I preferred not to have any one behind me, but I stared at their shoulder blades as we walked. No fear of me, though the very real knife they’d given me hung on my belt and I could put it in their spine at any second.

  They knew I wouldn’t.

  I hated it.

  “Why me?” they asked surveying one of the little clearings dotted around the tunnels.

  “Why you?”

  “Why ask me? Why not Rayick? Or Idris? They’ve both had formal training, and Rayick would be a much better teacher than me.”

  A good question. I wasn’t about to admit the request had been half-impulse. “Idris was trained by Acalta’s guard. They’re good enough at their job, but I happen to know the guard rushes training to get more men out. It’s sloppy. And your way of fighting suits me much better than Rayick’s.”

  “You’ve never seen me fight,” they said.

  “I’ve seen you move. It’s close enough.”

  The way they tilted their head, a loose piece of hair sliding across their brow, made me ensure my hands were in place in my pockets. I drew a breath of the sharp cold air, but if Kye knew why they didn’t comment, just asked, “How?”

  “Rayick is strong. You are, too, but he’s beyond you. Not to mention taller and bulkier. That’s his greatest advantage in a fight. You’re lighter on your feet, and more observant than he is. If you survived so long in the North, you must have put those to use. And both of those translate well to someone with less physical strength.”

  The composure I was wrestling with surged into a little beat of triumph with how Kye blinked, then nodded. I’d taken the child-warrior of all people off guard, and I couldn’t stop a slight smile.

  “I knew you were clever, but I’m impressed,” they murmured, then held one of the practice swords to me. “Alright, I’ll teach you what I can. But the warlords didn’t exactly inspire us to be teachers.”

  “As long as it does the job.” I took the weapon, testing its weight. It was heavier than I’d expected, rough but solid; it may not have an edge, but it could do some damage. I’d never handled a sword, only knives, but I mimicked Kye’s grip. Their eyes, shadowy in the dark, raked over me, studying every inch of my form.

  “Weight on your toes,” they ordered, and I shifted accordingly. “You’ll move faster. Have you ever used a sword?”

  No point in lying when my inexperience would be obvious when we began. “No.”

  “Not proper enough for a noblewoman?”

  I tried not to scowl. “Not inconspicuous enough for a witch. My father had some, but we weren’t to touch them. Our training was in magic and knives, in case we should need them.”

  “Your sisters will be using knives?”

  “If they don’t use magic, yes.”

  One corner of Kye’s mouth quirked up, and they tossed their wooden blade aside and stepped toward me. I kept still as they adjusted my fingers, their touch warm. “Hold it like this,” they said, then pulled back, studied my stance again, and corrected my shoulders with both hands. “Obviously a sword is bigger and heavier than a knife, but it can be as quick and versatile if you know what you’re doing. We don’t have time to make sure you know what you’re doing, but we can get a start.”

  “Do what you can.”

  “I know how well steel works against magic, and I’m sure you do, too. No matter how good you are it won’t hold out long. So work fast and smart.”

  “I’m good at that.” My arms were beginning to burn from holding the sword , unused to the position. A glint in Kye’s eyes said they were well aware and choosing not to say anything. I had no doubt they could stand like this for hours with no trouble. “Now how do I work fast and smart with a sword?”

  “We’ll get to that. For now, get the stance and grip down. Swing it. Feel it. Get used to it. I’d rather you not slice yourself.”

  I scoffed but swung the sword experimentally. The weight of it whooshed through the air. Kye backed up another step, watching.

  “Don’t let it go so far. Control it.”

  Another swing, more careful this time. I had to lock the muscles of my arms to keep the wooden blade from soaring past where I wanted it to stop.

  “Better. Keep working on it. And don’t grip it so tight. It doesn’t need strangled.”

  I gritted my teeth, adjusted my grip, and tried again. And again. And again. Each swing was met with a correction—my control, my grip, my feet, my balance—and each left my muscles aching. Mentally I was dangerous and well-honed, but physically I didn’t have such an advantage. Years of luxury had established that. But I persevered, refusing to let my arms tremble, refusing to slow. Despite the temperature, sweat slid down my temples, and my spine and arms felt like jelly. Kye stepped forward again.

  “How does it feel?” they asked, scanning me for the thousandth time tonight.

  I lowered the sword, letting my raging muscles rest. “It feels…strange, but better than at first.”

  “Good. A sword has the advantage of reach. A knife has the advantage of its smaller size. If one of your sisters resorts to a knife, your best chance of surviving will be to keep them away from you.” They checked the knives on their belt. “Far away.
”

  “I figured.”

  “But if you want to stick to your knife, because I won’t lie, it is easier to walk around with…” They pulled one of theirs out and inspected it. The blade caught in the moonlight—no dull wood this time. “Make sure you’re quieter and faster than they are. We need to work on that, too.”

  I put my practice sword aside. “Quieter?”

  Kye shrugged and faced me. “I’m not a thief like Wesley. I don’t deal in stealth. But being loud doesn’t tend to help your chances.” That was fair.

  “Don’t draw blood,” was all the warning I got before they moved.

  My heart leapt into my throat and my feet stumbled, taken off guard. My fingers fumbled to get my knife loose as I ducked Kye’s blade, but then they were on my other side. On instinct, the first whispers of my magic rose, but I stamped it down. This practice was to prepare for if my magic failed me, and I had to act as if it had.

  Knife free, I found my grip and slid into the same stance I’d taken with the sword, knees bent, weight on my toes, angled away from Kye as much as possible. A small, quick-moving target. My feet slipped in the snow and ice, struggling to find their footing, and every time I dodged a strike Kye found another place to aim. They were everywhere, swift and near-silent, always gone by the time I managed to think of a counterattack.

  My mind spun in the chaos, and I aimed for Kye’s shoulder when they left it in my sights for a fraction of a second. But then their arm was fastened around mine, twisting my wrist. I swallowed a yelp of surprise and made to spin away and twist their arm in return—but my vision turned into a blur of white and black, and a jolt ran through my body.

  I wasn’t sure if they had knocked my feet from under me or I’d slipped, but I glowered from the ground. Kye had followed me, knees pinning my arms, and knife pointed straight at my throat, held a safe handful of inches away.

  “That wasn’t fair,” I managed through my gasping breath.

  “Anybody trying to kill you won’t play fair,” they countered.

  “You didn’t let me get ready. And you’re used to fighting in the snow.”

  “Don’t be a sore loser.”

  My pulse skittered along my bones and through my chest as they looked at me, but the cold and wet soaking my clothes chased it away. Kye stood and held a hand to me.

  They’d held their knife inches from my throat. I’d been an easy kill, if they’d wanted to take it. Others would have, no matter what kind of agreement we had, and yet I hadn’t thought of it until they moved aside.

  I took one more breath and grabbed their hand.

  “I’ll let you have your knife out this time,” they said with a wry smile as I brushed snow from my pants.

  “Do you need to knock me onto the ground twice in one night?”

  “We can switch back to the sword if you like. They leave some nasty bruises.”

  My arms almost gave out at the suggestion, and the look on my face must have said it. Kye laughed and slid into that light, ready stance again, their footing enviably sure on the frozen ground. “You asked for two hours of my time tonight for this,” they reminded me.

  I sighed and copied their position. “Lady help me.”

  When our two hours finished, Kye vanished to replace the weapons and I staggered to my bed. Every inch of my body screamed and I didn’t want to count my scrapes and bruises. The endless work had checked the cold until I’d started the walk to the tunnels, and now my sweat was frozen and I was shivering in my wet and dirt-streaked borrowed clothes.

  The tunnels were silent except for the distant crackling of a fire, and I stripped Aurynn’s clothes off, tossed them in a corner—I promised I’d wash them in the morning before returning them—and pulled on my dress and cloak. Then I made a beeline for the main cave, where I gulped down a cup of water and found a place near the fire.

  My fingers and toes were thawing out when a shadow slipped into the entrance, features impossible to see. I straightened, magic whirling and alert, but the firelight caught on Aurynn’s red-blonde hair and I let out a breath.

  “How was training?” she asked.

  I rolled an aching shoulder. “It went well enough. I’ll wash your clothes in the morning.” She had a lantern in one hand and a cloak was slung on her shoulders, and I knew this wasn’t about my training. “What do you need?”

  “We shouldn’t talk here. Come with me.”

  I followed her through the caves, the single lantern lighting our way. It illuminated the craggy walls around us, appearing too narrow in the dead of night, and threw shadows over her fair skin and bearskin cloak. She walked with a purpose, not quick but commanding, and as much as I tried to swallow my apprehension, it snaked through me. I shouldn’t have left my knife with my pack and bedroll. I was getting too compliant, too trusting.

  We walked out of the caves, into the forest, until we were standing under the moonlight among the silvered trees. I tensed as Aurynn faced me.

  “You’re a witch.”

  That was not what I’d been expecting, and a waste of worry. “Yes.”

  “You work with plants?”

  I relaxed and scanned the forest, searching for any movement, any night-dwelling dangers that might have come out now that the noise of mine and Kye’s training had ceased. I found none. “Plants, stones, fire, water…everything in the natural world holds power in it. When one is born with the ability to feel and touch that power—a witch—they can borrow it.”

  “Do you work blood magic?”

  I met her eyes, flickering violet in the lantern light. “I have.”

  She held my gaze. “Magic is an insult to the Lady and gods.” There was no accusation in her voice, only simple, cool fact.

  “One of the Lady’s own daughters was a witch.” She said nothing, just continued to watch me, and I asked, “Did you bring me out here to kill me? For being the abomination I am? You’ve had weeks to do it, why now?”

  She paused, like she was considering it, but shook her head. “No. I brought you here because I don’t want the others to hear this.”

  “Hear what?”

  “You’re a Morningspell.”

  The ice beneath my feet leaped straight through me and my eyes widened. But she made no move toward me. No move to shout for anybody to come for me. I kept silent, lost for words, and she continued. “I’m not a witch, but my mother was. She told me about your family. Cruel, ambitious, self-serving—all witches are, but your family is the worst of the worst.”

  “What happened to your mother?” I asked.

  Her smiled was pained. “I killed her, before she lost use for me. She never loved me, but I made an acceptable tool.”

  That sounded too familiar. I stifled a wince and looked away, to the shadows of trees and rocks and snow drifts. “I’m not like my mother and sisters,” I murmured.

  “Any witch would say that.”

  “I am, in many ways, of course—and I’d suggest you remember that well, in case you consider discussing this conversation,” I added with a sharp look. “But I don’t mean anybody here harm. And I will do all I can to break your curse.”

  It wasn’t a lie. These people were good—better than anybody I’d met. Better than my family or myself. They didn’t deserve their curse. I didn’t know if I could do anything for them, but it wouldn’t hurt to give it a genuine try.

  Aurynn watched me with narrowed eyes. “How do I know I can believe anything you say?”

  She would. Maybe she knew what witches were like, and maybe she didn’t trust any of us as a rule. That was fair. But she wanted to, and that was enough. I flashed her a smile. “You don’t, but neither of us have much choice, do we?”

  “No, we don’t,” she said, clearly cursing every word.

  I tried not to let the tension in my spine show. “Why tell me you know who I am? You could keep it to yourself and use it. I’m sure my mother would pay a hefty price for my return. You could use that.”

  “I can’t leave thi
s forest to alert anybody looking for you,” she reminded me.

  “There are other ways.”

  She looked aside. “I don’t want to like you, Neyva, but I do. Enough, at least. I won’t betray you to your family or anyone else. And you and Kye—you’re dangerous together.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means you should know that somebody here knows who you are. In case.”

  “Was that a threat?” If I was going to get one from anybody, I thought it would be Aurynn, but I couldn’t deny that I was impressed she’d managed it—not to mention that she’d figured out who I was. The thought made my heart pound in the base of my throat and my palms itch.

  “Not a threat,” she replied, eyes sliding over my shoulder. A thread of my magic prodded in that direction, searching for somebody behind me. No danger I could sense, but something warm and quiet in the distance. “Just a reminder to be careful with one of my friends.”

  I twisted to see what she was looking at, and my gaze landed on a point of light in a tree. A lantern, the shadowy edge of a figure on a bare branch. There was the crunching of footsteps but when I looked back Aurynn was gone.

  I turned to the light, pulling my cloak closer. Kye was going to get themself killed staying out so long. Aurynn’s reminder played through my head as I started for the tree. I couldn’t say I was careful with Kye, but I wasn’t doing anything to hurt them and I didn’t intend to. I liked Kye, as much as I wanted to deny it. There was something about their quiet stillness, about the way light and shadows danced in their eyes.

  Stop it, Neyva. You sound like a silly schoolgirl.

  So Kye was attractive and intriguing. They were also dangerous. As dangerous as I was.

  Maybe that was why, of anybody I’d ever met, I would choose to spend my time with them if I had to choose anyone.

  I hauled myself onto the lowest branch, shivering as sharp wind crept beneath my cloak. Kye looked like they couldn’t care less about the cold; they sat against the trunk, notebook in their lap and ink balanced on their knee. They’d hung the lantern on the branch above them, so it cast a warm glow on their work.