by Amber Argyle
She noticed blood soaking through his sleeve and motioned toward his forearm. “How bad is it?”
He shrugged. “I’ve had worse.”
“I remember.” She helped him out of his torn coat and rolled up his bloody sleeve to reveal teeth marks. Elice pulled one apart to gauge its depth as he hissed through his teeth. “I don’t see any torn muscle, which is a relief,” she said. “But you could use a few stitches.”
“Shall we ask your mother to fetch your supplies from the cave?”
Ignoring his comment, Elice took his dagger and cut a strip from her hem before handing back the knife. She bandaged Adar’s wound and rewrapped his sling, which had come loose at some point. “You know, I’ve lost a lot of clothes because of you,” she told him.
“This coming from the woman who left my clothes on the bottom of the ocean. Also, you vomited on me. I can still smell it,” he said, his tone light.
Blushing, Elice sat back and looked up at the pale light filtering in from above. They were in a narrow crevice in the ice. The walls had been carved by the ebb and flow of flood water, revealing subtle bands that varied from pale mint to deep jade that formed curving outcroppings of rock in fantastical patterns.
“This reminds me of home,” Adar said.
Elice turned to him. “It does?”
“I grew up in caves that opened up to narrow fissures of red rock. In the wider fissures, we planted crops along the basins, watering them from irrigation we took from the subterranean lakes.”
She sighed as she looked around. “It’s actually kind of beautiful.”
“Elly, please, this is no time to be flirting with me.”
“You always manage to twist my words.”
“You like it. Don’t bother denying it.” She was actually starting to like it. But if he knew that, he’d become insufferable. “How are we going to get out of here?”
She glanced far above them. “We could climb out.”
“Back up to the bears?” Adar sniffed. “Besides, fairies hate being underground. We’re safer down here.”
“Good point.” Elice nodded to the tunnel where the river disappeared. “We could try that again.”
“I’d rather not be thrown up on again.” He looked toward the second, higher tunnel. “What about that one?”
They trudged to their feet, scaled the sloping wall, and peered down the darkened tunnel. It was narrow at the top and bottom and wider at the sides, which were slick and shiny.
Elice swallowed nervously. “Think it will take us where we need to go?”
“I bet in the summer, this whole cavern is full of water and this is another river. All rivers lead to the ocean, which is generally south. If the sun crossed the sky like it’s supposed to, I could figure out if we were going east or west. But here it just does useless circles around the horizon.”
Elice thought for a moment. East would lead them back to the palace. They needed to head southwest. “All this water has to come out somewhere. If it came out to the east, we would have crossed a river before we fell into the glacier.”
Adar smiled. “Well then, onward, my good woman.”
She laid down a path of snow to even out the bottom of the uneven tunnel, and they stepped inside. It wasn’t long before the tunnel grew pitch black, and even with Elice forming a perfectly smooth path, her steps were halting and unsure. Adar seamlessly took the lead, which helped, but only a little.
“Elice,” he finally said. “What’s wrong?”
She used her free hand to wipe away the sweat on her brow. “Nothing.”
“It’s not nothing,” he growled. “Your hand is all sweaty, which is ludicrous considering how cold it is, and you’re shaking.”
She let out a shuddering breath. “I—I’m afraid of the dark.” She bumped into Adar before she noticed he’d stopped.
“But . . . don’t you live in complete darkness for two months out of the year?”
She nodded before realizing he couldn’t see her. “Yes. But my mother always leaves an aurora in the sky so I’m not afraid.”
He let out a long breath. “You have no idea how much I want to help you with that.”
Why did he sound so sad? “There’s nothing you can do. Nothing either of us can do but keep walking.” She suddenly wished she was as strong as her mother, for then she could call on her own aurora to light their way. But then she had a sudden memory. When Chriel died, Elice had been so furious she’d forgotten that her mother was stronger. At that moment, Elice had pulled from winter harder than ever. And she’d managed to dissipate her mother’s ice faster than Ilyenna could make it.
“What if I could make an aurora?” she said quietly, almost to herself.
“What?”
She licked her lips. “I want to try something.”
“Well, we are running for our lives, but if you want to kiss me, I can’t see denying you.”
She threw a glare his way.
“Did you glare at me?” Adar laughed. “’Cause I swear I felt it, and I’d hate to miss one of your glares. You get this line between your eyes, and your nose wrinkles up. It’s adorable.”
Elice smacked him. “Be quiet. I’ve never tried this before.”
She closed her eyes and concentrated, pulling light and color from winter in ways she never had before. When she opened her eyes, the weird green lights of the aurora, tinged in purple, shimmered like ribbons above them. The light was faint, but it chased away the all-encompassing shadows.
“I did it!” She grinned in relief. She glanced up at Adar, but his gaze was fixed on the aurora, his mouth gaping. Something soft opened up inside her at the wonder in his expression.
Slowly, he turned to look down at her. “Sometimes, I wish you weren’t so amazing, Elice.”
She blinked. “What?”
He shook his head, the wonder in his eyes shuttered away. “Never mind. Let’s keep going.”
They walked on for what must have been miles, but Elice’s hard-packed snow made their steps sure, so they made good time.
The tunnel gradually lightened and widened, circling away from them in ever-widening arches until they stepped into a cavern. Elice enlarged her aurora, illuminating a hundred thousand icicles that dripped from the ceiling and every outcropping. They made the walls look as if they were made up of thousands of columns.
Some of the larger icicles in the ceiling had trickled water onto the floor, which had refrozen until it formed a mirror image. As Elice and Adar went on, some of these twin icicles met at a delicate point, creating hourglass shapes. Those shapes eventually fused into broad columns until it appeared that the travelers were wandering through a vast cathedral.
“Fire and burning,” Adar breathed out. “It’s like a temple of ice.”
“Fire and burning. You’ve said that before.” Elice turned to him with a quizzical look. “I thought it was an Idaran expression.”
He harrumphed. “Tribesmen were saying it long before Idarans.”
They couldn’t be sure how long they had traveled underground, but they were both exhausted. They spent a night in the cathedral of ice, the aurora shifting above them. The next morning, they passed into another tunnel, ducking beneath icicles hanging from the rim like daggers. Here, light filtered in from outside, the walls glowing a deep mint. They walked for hours before the tunnel opened up again.
Here, it was dimmer and colder. The walls were lined with bright-blue ice, water flowing through veins in the snow before freezing again. The resulting pattern reminded Elice of the vast roots of a tree. Eventually, those veins opened up, a thousand small waterfalls running through and down the walls, making the snow slushy. Puddles began to form. Those puddles met and merged into a vast mint-green lake, the surface a perfect reflection of the ceiling, which looked like rolling, puffy storm clouds frozen in place.
Elice and Adar crossed the surface of the lake on a floating bridge of packed snow. The lake was so clear and perfect, Elice couldn’t help but take a long
drink that tasted of minerals and snow. But her stomached ached with hunger—she and Adar hadn’t eaten anything since the morning before.
Though it was beautiful here, and safe, Elice knew they had to get out. So when the lake ended in a gentle river, they didn’t even discuss it. She made them another pod, this one a bit bigger than the last, and they climbed inside, curled around each other, and fell asleep to the gentle rocking.
Adar woke when he couldn’t fight off the pain any longer. His shoulder was an old throb he’d become somewhat used to, but his arm burned fresh and bright. And deeper still, a familiar ache, a spreading heat that felt cold. He was fevering, and without Elice’s touch, he knew the bitter cold would be unbearable. She was curled against his side, her right arm and leg thrown over him, her cheek pressed into his chest. Even in her sleep, she kept the aurora bright above them.
He lay perfectly still, enjoying the weight of her body. Her breathing was rhythmic and deep, her face soft and open. This was the girl he’d known for only six days. A girl of contradictions, for she was innocent and tough, young and old, delicate and strong. He never would have defied a queen, not the way Elice had. More than anything, he felt a protectiveness well up within him, which was ridiculous. Here, she had all the power. And with his damaged shoulder, Adar couldn’t even fight off a drunk.
If he was honest with himself, the biggest threat she faced was him. He knew he shouldn’t want to hold her like this, shouldn’t feel this way at all—especially not about her. And he would stop enjoying himself. Eventually.
But then the blasted river began tossing them about. He wrapped his arms around her, not because he wanted to hold her—he was just trying to keep her from being jostled. And then they plunged down and popped up again. Elice’s eyes flew open and she reared back, smacking her head on the top of the pod with a crack. Her face screwed up, and she hissed through her teeth.
Adar’s arms felt strangely empty without her. “You really should be careful with your head. You only have the one, you know.”
She opened an eye to peer down at her body, which was spread along the length of his. She met his gaze, her face mottled with mortification, which made her even more adorable. She scrambled off him. “Sorry!”
Adar stretched his sore muscles. “Even in your sleep, you can’t resist me.”
She smacked him on the chest, his sickness making it hurt more than it should have. Not that he’d ever let on. She squinted a little and the aurora grew stronger, its beauty taking his breath away. “I think we’re going to make—”
The pod slammed into the river bottom so hard the ice shattered completely. Elice’s hand was ripped from Adar’s. The cold knifed into him so hard he sucked in a breath of water in shock.
Elice fought against the current—tried to swim—but the river spun her about like a too-eager child with a toy. She started to form an ice floe to lift her to the surface. The ice slammed into something, forcing her breath from her and sending her reeling. She gasped without meaning to, and water invaded her lungs. Then her muscles lost all their strength and she careened along helplessly. All she could think was that she’d failed Adar and proven her mother right. The blackness took her.
She was aware of something snagging on her belt, her body being pulled against the current. And then Elice felt hands on her, hauling her to the slushy shore. Those hands lifted her into a sitting position. “Breathe!” came a voice.
But she couldn’t breathe. She was dying. A hand came down hard on her back and she suddenly remembered how to cough. Water spewed from her mouth. A ragged, gurgling breath. Then she coughed more water. It was agony, breathing air and coughing water. But eventually her gasps slowed and her vision cleared.
There were three of them, all with dark skin and features. The girl who had pounded Elice’s back, an older man with a wispy mustache that fluttered all the way down to his chest, and another man with a large mole over his left eye. The two men were loading Adar’s shivering body onto a sled pulled by a dozen large dogs. Beside the sled was the carcass of a seal.
Adar turned his head and met Elice’s gaze with obvious relief.
The girl who’d helped Elice breathe was probably around her own age and was buried in furs so only her round face showed. She was dark-skinned, like Adar, but her features were round and her eyes almond-shaped. The girl draped Elice’s arm over her shoulder and helped her toward one of the sleds. But Elice’s legs weren’t working properly, and she promptly fell down again.
The mustached man ran back to them and lifted Elice in his arms, then deposited her on the sled. “Mush,” they cried to their dogs. The sleds moved out with a little jerk and steadily picked up speed as the dogs strained against their harnesses. Still dazed, Elice shifted to look at Adar. He was shivering so hard he seemed to be convulsing.
“We have to stop.” she said. “I have to help him.”
The girl didn’t seem to understand her but shouted over the wind, “Our hut is just there. It’s warm.” It was then Elice realized the girl wasn’t speaking Clannish, but Svass. Since the Winter Queendom was at the heart of Svassheim, Elice’s father had insisted she learn the language.
Elice peered ahead and saw a hut built in an alcove along the shore. Strung out on lengthy poles all along it were about a dozen seal carcasses in various stages of being butchered. These were highmen, she realized—the Svass who lived inside the Winter Queendom. How far had she and Adar come from the Winter Palace?
The sleds eased to a stop, and the two men hauled Adar inside the hut. With the girl’s help, Elice managed to stand up and follow after them. Inside the smoky, dark shelter, the fire had burned low, but it was warm—warmer than Elice’s cave had ever been. More warmth than she ever remembered feeling.
The men immediately set about pulling off Adar’s clothes, while the girl dumped more of what looked like dung onto the fire. Once he was stripped to the skin, they piled furs on top of him, but he was shivering so hard they kept slipping off.
The girl set some kind of cookware directly on the fire and then came to Elice. “Your clothes are frozen solid.”
Without thinking, Elice thawed them. The girl’s mouth came open. “Winter Queen.”
The men eased to their feet and moved toward the door. “Sakari,” said the one with the mustache, motioning for the girl to come with him.
Elice wasn’t surprised by the fear in their eyes—she should have been more careful. She held her hands up, trying to appear harmless. “No. I’m not the Winter Queen. I’m her daughter, Elice. We’re trying to escape.”
“Sometimes, Elice, you want to keep your next play hidden,” Adar said through chattering teeth.
“You speak Svass?” she shot at him.
“Grew up in a library, remember?”
“The river spewed you from the glacier,” growled the mustached man.
“Please, we need help,” Elice said.
The men hesitated, sharing a long look. “How can we help you?” the mole man asked warily.
Elice pointed to Adar. “He needs to be warm. I can keep the cold from him, but I cannot keep him warm.” She dropped her head, ashamed at how often she had failed him. “And we’re hungry. We haven’t eaten in over two days.”
Silent communication passed between the two men. The quiet one nodded. The mustached man squatted and looked at them. “I am Anuniaq, this is my brother, Kiviuq, and that is our niece, Sakari. We will give you food and shelter, but tomorrow you must move on, for we will not risk the wrath of the Winter Queen.”
Elice let out a grateful sigh. “Thank you.” She returned her attention to Adar. “How’s the bite? You seem to be favoring your right arm.”
He studied her for a moment, his expression indecisive. “I’m more concerned about the hat I lost. I loved that hat.” Knowing he was trying to distract her, she shot him a stern look. With a grump, he obediently held out his right arm. Elice unwrapped the dirty bandage as carefully as she could, but Adar still winced and gasped a bit
. When she reached his bare arm, Elice was alarmed to see the puncture wounds were swollen and red. They smelled bad, too.
She fought down her panic. “Can you bring me some saltwater?” she asked Sakari, who quietly slipped outside. Her passing let in a burst of cold air that made Adar cringe.
“I should have thought to bring some medicines,” Elice murmured. “I’m sorry.”
Adar’s eyes were closed, his face red. “We were sort of in a hurry.”
“I’m going to help your body flush out the infection, but it’s going to hurt,” she warned.
Anuniaq handed Adar a bit of bone to bite down on. Sakari returned with some seawater in a bowl carved out of bone.
“Get it hot,” Elice told her.
“I have some medicines I can put in it,” Sakari said softly. “It will help with the swelling.”
Elice nodded. When it was just short of boiling, she poured the water, floating with some crushed seaweed, back into the bowl. “Rest your arm in there,” she ordered. Adar did, wincing as his wound seemed to swell even more. When his skin was hot to the touch, she lifted his arm from the water and stretched it out straight.
“Hold him like this,” Elice said to the men. They held his arm while she rubbed toward the open wounds. Watery pus squirted out, and she rubbed again as it oozed and then clear fluid ran down. Adar hissed through his teeth, his whole body locking up and the cords of muscle and sinew standing out in his dark skin. Elice tried to think only about clearing the wounds, not about the pain she was causing him. When she was done, she cleaned the puncture marks with the water from the bowl.
“No need to wrap it just yet,” she said, her hands shaking only a little. “Best to let it breathe.”
Adar cradled his arm to his body. Elice reached forward, laying her fingertips gently on his arm and letting just a trickle of cold spread into his arm, until some of the redness and puffiness eased.
“It’s sore, but it actually feels better,” he said in relief.