A Heart of Ice

by Phoenix Briar

  I sigh and give a half-hearted smile before saying, “Go to sleep, Cara.”

  She looks at me with tired eyes before turning and heading to the stairs, saying a brief word to Heather when she comes in and collects the fussy Enté from his place on the bench to go and lay him down.

  Chapter Thirty Seven

  Scarlet

  “Sage!” My heart thunders in my chest louder than the scatter of hooves around me. A horse charges at me with a rider mounted for a kill, and I scream, ducking and throwing myself to the side just in time for one of my own to charge up in front of me with his sword at the ready to face my assailant.

  I breathe hard, my copper hair scattered across the ground, gathering dirt and leaves in its wake. “Sage!” I scream again when I pick up my head, dragging myself off of the ground and pressing forward again. I dodge fighters and horses, jump over fallen corpses or those who soon would be, fighting my panic. “Sage!”

  There is a cough, a sputtering of blood mixed in with the sound of my name. I throw my head to the side, searching for the sound. “La…La’c-centa,” my brother wheezes, struggling to sit up, a hand pressed to his throat to try and stop the bleeding.

  I hadn’t realized that I started running, but my feet are moving, and I tear across the battlefield to my brother. “Oh, Chelyah… Chelyah,” I plead in a whimper, collecting Sage into my arms, his burnt-copper hair spilling into my lap, dirty and blood-clotted. “Sage!” I sob, smoothing the hair out of his face.

  “S-Sorry…” he hisses, sputtering blood again.

  “No.” I smooth back his hair again, cupping his face. “You’ll be sorry if you die on me. Don’t you dare stop breathing, Sage. Stay with me. Stay with me, damnit!”

  A horse screams behind me, and I toss my head back to stare wide-eyed at the man charging me, sword thirsty for my blood.

  With a scream, I bolt up in the bed, terror seizing me and stealing my breath. I clutch the sheets to me, the poor cloth singed in places and burnt through with a few holes. It takes a few moments before the dark room comes into my view, thunder rolling in the distance and rain slapping the frail glass. Lightning lights up my world and the figure of a man sitting in the corner.

  I suck in a breath and scramble for my dagger. “Easy, Cara.” I go still.

  “Gabriel,” I sigh his name, leaning my head back against the wall. “For Chelyah’s sake. You frightened me.”

  He chuckles, the sound low and rich. “I do not think that it was I who frightened you, spitfire.” Silence greets him, and I turn my face to the window, staring out at the storm as my heart and breath slow carefully. “What were you dreaming about?” I can see the shimmering blue of his eyes.

  I bow my head, looking down at the way my bronze fingers clutch and rub at the sheets. “The day…the day my brother died…”

  “Sage?”

  “Yes.” I look up at him, giving him a sad smile. “Why are you in my room?”

  “I could not sleep.” He pauses a moment, then continues, “Normally…when I cannot sleep…I will stay with Enté…watch over him as he slumbers…that gives me some peace…” He sighs. “But Heather is with him now, and I have no wish to startle the old woman.”

  I sigh to myself, studying him. “You have been very lonely since your wife’s death, haven’t you?” He says nothing, but the blue of his eyes thins into a warning glare. My response is a tired ghost of a smile. “Come to bed, Gabriel.”

  His eyes shoot open, and he looks fairly alarmed. “To…bed?”

  I laugh at his expression, then cover my mouth and try to muffle the sound. “Do not sound so scandalized! Do your kind never share a bed?”

  He clears his throat and explains, “Only married pairs, and usually they even have separate beds if they can afford to.”

  “How odd.” I smile. “You have lain by me before… come and lay down with me, Gabriel. We will both sleep much easier.”

  Finally, he chuckles, shaking his head and asking, “Does nothing scandalize you?”

  “Never,” I challenge, and smile as he gets up and trudges over to my bed. I shift over when he pulls back the covers, ignoring the way my whole body aches. I can feel his cold instantly and realize that I am not going to sleep well between his cold skin and the chill pressed against the window from the outside storm.

  Gabriel’s movements are awkward and uncertain, and I try hard not to smile at him. He looks up at me, blue eyes curious and tired. I am quite certain that if he were not so exhausted and desperate for sleep that he would never have joined me.

  Still as he pulls the blankets over him, pushing off the heavy wool blanket and the quilt on top of that onto me, I shift down so that I am laying again, and I lay on my side so that I face him, arms curled up by my chest.

  Chapter Thirty Eight

  Gabriel

  I woke so late in the night. Forgetting where I am, I almost panic before finally getting up. I debate going out into the rain, but while I enjoy cold rain, the thought of coming in with my clothes soaked and mud on my entire bottom half does not sound comforting.

  Instead, I walk the halls, barefooted and in only my slacks. A guard notices me and puts a hand on his sword but stills when he sees me and inclines his head politely. I nod back to him and he begins his walk again, quiet. I find myself pacing the halls and pause when I hear a sound.

  At first, it sounds like the coo of a bird, and then a soft gasp and the creak of an old bed. I wonder if the guards bullied the working women into staying the night with them and my fists clench to go and deal with them, but when I open the room, there is only one person in the bed, and her copper hair spills out over the sheets.

  She wakes, and I don’t know if from me or whatever had her gasping and searching madly for a weapon. I wonder if this is how she slept in the barracks or in the field. When she camped out with her men, did she keep her weapons by her, ready to strike down any opposition? What horrifies me most when she asks me to come to her bed isn’t that she asked, it is that I am already moving to get up. I never had a woman call me to her bed before, and it is a rather… delightful experience.

  Catherine would come to my bed at times, or she would tip her chin just so to let me know that she wanted to be kissed. But she never welcomed me into her room. That was her home, her space, and she guarded it fiercely.

  Cara doesn’t fully settle until I am in bed with her. The sheets are warm, the bed feeling a bit singed, but I find that I do not horribly mind. She just lays there, watching me with a coy little smile on her lips, as though she finds me to be a curious puzzle, and she wants to explore. Her golden eyes are rich and bright, and I can nearly see my refection in them as I study her. I keep my body rigid, still, my face lacking in any expression.

  But then she closes her eyes and shifts a bit. I tense, wondering what she would do, but she presses her warm, little body against mine and snuggles close. Her head tucks up under my chin, and one hand touches my chest while the other slides between my arm and my side, thoroughly caging me to her. For a moment, I don’t dare to move, just laying very still.

  Cara, however, seems to fall asleep immediately. Soon, she breathes slow and deep, and I watch her for a long while. I shift, rolling onto my back since I can never sleep on my side, and she comes with me, half laying on me. She is hotter than usual, and I push the sheets further off of me and debate opening the window, but I feel a tremor go up her spine. So instead, I draw the blankets and quilt up over her, tucking them around her carefully. In her sleep, she makes a face and mumbles something before going still again.

  I find sleep easily after that.

  Chapter Thirty Nine

  Scarlet

  “Jay’let, it is beautiful!” I cry, trying not to squeal like a child. It had been a year since my moon-blood started, and Sage’s wife always tells me that now I am a woman and cannot act like a child any longer. But I am so excited.

  I hold up the beautiful orange and gold dress as though it is made of glittering jewels. Perh
aps if I liked jewels, Jay’let would have found a way to purchase them for me, but I prefer cloth to gems.

  Jay’let is two years older than me, although he still looks like a lanky young boy. His hair is a bright orange with flecks of gold on the ends, and his rich, brown eyes smile at me. He is lounging in a chair by the fire, trying to look as though he isn’t paying attention to me opening the gift, but I know better.

  It’s two months before the festival, and I will be performing with the other dancers. I have grown much in the past year. I am taller, while my bust and hips have widened. I am still young, not quite a woman, but I have been married for one year, and I am happy.

  I hear Jay’let stifle a laugh as I start pulling my other dress over my head, and he shakes his head, eyes on me now. I grab the velvet cord that goes with it and hurry to the fire where Jay’let is already sitting up to help me. I turn around, and he starts lacing up the back, and when he finishes, I move to turn around, but he puts his hands on my hips and holds me there.

  I find my cheeks warm, and I look down at my feet as he slowly kisses up the open spaces in the back of the dress to my shoulders and my neck. He tugs me down into the chair with him. “My beautiful flower,” he murmurs in my ear before kissing it.

  I turn my head to look over at him and grin. “It is a lovely dress, Jay’let. Thank you.”

  “Anything for you,” he says with his boyish grin, and my smile widens before I kiss his lips.

  “Where is the prince?” he asks suddenly, his voice turning urgent.

  I sit up a bit, slowly beginning to realize that I am dreaming.

  “Where is the prince!” he demands, my heart sinking. I do not want to wake up…Jay’let, no…”Hurry! Search the corridors! Head to the barn!”

  My eyes crack open right as someone bursts through my door, and I gasp, grabbing the blanket to cover my chest. It’s a habit because at home I usually do not sleep with clothes, but here it is far too cold for such a practice. I feel the bed beneath me shift and realized that it isn’t a bed at all.

  Gabriel groans softly in his sleepiness, his cold body solid beneath me. There had been much commotion a moment ago as guards ran through the halls shouting, their insistent cries filling my dreams of my Dai’lyn, but now everything is very quiet.

  They stare at me, and I stare right back at them. Two, almost three guards, are trying to fit in the doorway to my room, and behind them, servants and help all try to peer over them to see what is the matter.

  Gabriel finally stirs, apparently having been sound asleep, but when he cracks open his eyes, he goes very still. He looks at me from the corner of his eyes and then over to the guards. He mutters a few choice words before roaring, “Out! Now!”

  I did not know that he could summon a voice so powerful so early in the morning, but he did, and it jolts the others into motion: hurriedly backing up, tripping over one another before slamming the door shut.

  I sink back into bed with a few choice words myself, sighing heavily and laying my head against Gabriel. “You’re in trouble,” I tease him, trying to lighten the mood, but he is clearly not in the mood, grunting and nudging me off of him. I try not to be hurt by the gesture, rolling over and bringing the covers with me so he won’t see me bite my lip to keep from voicing a complaint. What is Gabriel to me? He is my guardian, and on good days, my friend. I do not need his affection.

  But when I hear the door shut behind him, I suddenly feel much colder than when his arctic body was against me, and I make a soft sound in the back of my throat, closing my eyes.

  Chapter Forty

  Scarlet

  Morning comes too swiftly after sleep claimed me once again that night. I must have slept fitfully, for my shoulder is sore as though I tossed all night, and my hair is incorrigible from the mess I find it in when I go to my looking glass. With a sigh, I drag a bristled brush through my hair, wincing at how it pulls. It’s funny, really. I can fight until I am black and blue and bleeding from every square inch of flesh without wincing or stopping, but by the time I finish combing out my wild mane, my eyes are red and teary in protest to this self-inflicted abuse.

  I wait for Heather to come, although she never does. I sit on my bed for a long while, listening to the sounds around me. I can hear the old woman fussing at her charge in the other room, and the sound of guards and servants moving up and down the halls. I realize then that a bath had been drawn for me, and I wonder at how I managed to sleep through a servant coming in and filling it, but apparently, I had. Either way, I am grateful and strip off my dress and chemise, leaving them out on the bed rather than on the floor, which has become a rather irritating habit of mine for Heather, before sinking into the tub. It isn’t very hot, really, but it is warmer than the surrounding air, and so it brings a small comfort to me as I lay in its grasp, heating it up, soaking up the water and finally scrubbing my skin clean.

  I usually do not waste energy heating up my own body, but while the bath was pleasant enough, the day is still a fairly cold one, at least for me. I have stopped heating up my body temperature, because it makes me noticeably weaker, and the weaker I seem, the more Gabriel seems to criticize me. As my guardian, I do not like him any more or less than I had before, although I have come to understand him better. Somehow, he feels responsible for me, and as foolish as that notion is—and I have told him so many times—he is stubborn and refuses to relent or allow himself to relinquish his duty to me now as my guardian. As it is, I am irritated. My own father in Inferno was one of the hardest men to live with, demanding and particular about certain things. But even under his iron thumb, I had freedom to do and say as I wished. Gabriel treats me a though he could not possibly understand why I would not agree with his judgment.

  Sighing, I pull on my chemise, and then my skirts, before pulling the heavy dress over my head and lacing up the back. I am quite certain that I would have done better with Heather to help me, but I manage just fine on my own. I also can feel knots twisting in my stomach. If Gabriel, being as used to me as he is, was scandalized at the prospect of sharing a bed with another, then I am quite sure that the guards who stormed into my room in the middle of the night would be twice so. And regardless of what anyone says, soldiers gossip worse than ladies. Sighing at this, I know that tensions between the Crystalice surrounding me and myself are only going to become more strained. And here I am trying to be on my good behavior. A groan escapes me at these thoughts, and I rub my face irritably.

  Outside of my room, everyone moves about, trying to get ready to leave. I make my way downstairs, dodging a maid who is bringing up clean linens. Enté and Heather are sitting at a table downstairs, the little prince munching on what looks like cold cuts and cheese. I go over to him and smile, ruffling his hair and kissing the top of his head. “Good morning, little prince. Good morning, Heather.”

  “Good morning, Scarlet,” Heather replies with a particular tone.

  I wince and smile at her, feeling like when Sage’s wife had chastised me for teaching her oldest girl an inappropriate word when I stubbed my foot on the chair. “Did you sleep well?” I ask politely and realize very quickly that was the wrong question to ask.

  “I did, tank ya,” Heather replies cordially. “I ‘eard dat ya slept quite marv’lously as well.”

  I shrug, refusing to feel guilty for something that, in my culture, is perfectly acceptable. “Fair enough. Gabriel woke me up, and he’s awful cold to sleep next to, but well enough I suppose.” Heather quirks a brow at me and I raise my chin up a bit to answer the challenge.

  Finally, she gives a gentle smile and replies, “Dat’s bonny, ma dear. Ha’e ye eaten yet?”

  “No,” I reply, and accept the silent invitation, sitting down at the table with them and beginning to eat as well. Chilled breakfast is not nearly as comforting or enjoyable as a hot meal. I would rather eat stale bread so long as it’s warm. But I need the food and silence my complaints, eating idly as I watch everyone wander about in and out of the inn. “What i
s everyone a fuss over?”

  Heather looks up from her food and then to Enté’s, beginning to cut up more of his meat for him. “A team wenta get an extra wheel so tha know what size ta make tha new un.”

  “I hope it won’t take too long,” I reply, knowing that some carriages can be very elaborate and difficult to reproduce.

  Heather shakes her head and smiles wryly. “Nay, lass. Jus’ a simple wheel. Blacksmith said he’d ‘ave it finished by tha morn.”

  “So long for one wheel?” I ask incredulously.

  Heather shrugs. “The only blacksmith here be a Crystalice. Crystalice blacksmiths work with a lower heat, so it takes longer to soften the metal.”

  I wrinkle my nose. “That’s ridiculous. I’ll take care of this.” I finish eating my food quickly and get up, much to her curious expression as I move outside. Gabriel stands outside with his hands on his hips, speaking to one of the townsfolk. I consider trying to slip past him to where I can see two men carrying the broken wheel down the street. However, I am somewhat of a black ink stain on white parchment in this area. I am glad for the climate change, but the mess that became of the roads is horrible even though the rain has stopped.

  When I had just begun thinking that I might be able to slip past Gabriel without being noticed, he turns his head and looks straight at me. He frowns, and I already feel tired before even arguing with him. “What are you doing out?” is the inevitable question.

  “I didn’t realize that I was confined to the inn,” I retort. Gabriel doesn’t deserve my immediate angst, but it is terribly cold, and I am sick of the cold. My head hurts, everything is freezing, I don’t want to eat, and my consciousness feels like it’s in a fog. I am not in the mood. I just want to do what I want and be left alone.

  Gabriel’s eyes harden a bit, and he replies coldly, “You are not. But it becomes my concern when you are intentionally putting your health at risk.”