Cris curled around me, warm but silent. He offered no advice.
I couldn’t bring myself to move from this spot. Snow soaked through my layers of clothes, but Cris and the other sylph stuck close, keeping me from shivering.
Soon I’d have to go back to camp. To Sam, Stef, and Whit. And I would have to tell them that I’d seen dragons and I had no idea what to do now. The dragons were hunting in the forest below. They must have had keen eyes to see that deer. And unlike the roc, they had no trouble diving into the forest.
They could snatch us up, too.
“We’re going to need extra cover,” I whispered. “We definitely don’t want to be caught in the open. Even in the forest, we’ll need to avoid looking like food.”
Cris nodded, trilling softly by my ear. -We will protect you.-
“Thank you.” I lowered my eyes and didn’t try to stop the tears, but what should have been a torrent came as only a trickle. I’d trekked through the cold woods before, gone hungry, been beaten, but I’d never felt like this. I’d never felt broken, like my spirit had split in two.
What hope was there? Stef had been right about the dragons. There was no chance of talking to them. They weren’t people. They weren’t sylph, who needed something from me, or centaurs, who’d been satisfied to have their children returned unharmed, and cowed by the presence of the sylph.
No, now we were in a huge winter forest, far, far from home and anything familiar. We’d taken weeks to get here, and for what purpose? There was no way I’d be able to convince the dragons to help us. What was I going to do? Shout from the cliff and ask for their assistance? Ask if I could borrow this mysterious weapon they had? They’d swoop in and eat me whole before I finished introducing myself.
And worse, I’d pushed away Sam with my secrets. It drove me crazy when he hid things from me and didn’t tell me what was going on, so I should have known. Instead, I’d become a hypocrite. I’d hurt his feelings and dragged him into the land of his nightmares because I had a plan.
“I can’t help you, Cris.” My whisper came out rough, broken. “There’s no way I’ll be able to speak to the dragons. They won’t destroy the temple for us. They won’t use their weapon for us. They’ll probably eat us. Janan will ascend and Range will erupt. Sylph will be cursed forever.”
Only the crack of dragon wings answered.
“I wish you hadn’t put your trust in me. I wish you had sided with the others to talk me out of this plan. We should never have come here. I made a mistake.”
Cris hummed. -I believe in you.-
I sagged, too weary to hold myself up anymore. “I don’t.”
As I wiped tears off my cheeks, reflected sunlight caught my eye, drawing my attention north.
A white tower pierced the sky, brilliant and bright against the shadowed forest. Like the temple. And below it, a white stone wall ringed the tower, cutting through the forest like a knife.
It wasn’t perfectly white like Janan’s temple, though. Age and weather had dulled the shine of stone, and there were places the forest had toppled the wall, but this prison had certainly survived the millennia better than the one Cris had found in the jungle.
“We’re almost there.”
Cris nodded.
“It doesn’t matter.” I stood and brushed snow and slush off my clothes. There was no point to being here now. I’d seen the dragons. I’d seen the futility of my plan.
The sylph dried my clothes as I took one more look at the valley and the dragons moving farther away, still hunting in the forest. Their wings snapping the air grew distant.
I trudged back to where I’d left the water bottles, but there was only a shallow hole in the snow where they’d been. Someone had taken them.
“Did one of your friends go tattle on me?” I glared at Cris, who hummed with annoyance.
“It wasn’t the sylph.” Sam’s voice came from not far off, just a few trees away. He peeled himself out of the shadows and stalked toward us. “You were gone a long time. We came looking, and some of the sylph indicated you’d gone off with Cris.” He kept his voice low, even, but couldn’t hide the lurking power in there, or the disappointment. His gaze darted to Cris, and he tilted his head.
Without comment, every sylph left the area.
Sam turned on me. “I told you to come back if you saw anything.”
I prickled. “I didn’t see anything. I heard something and went to investigate. I had Cris with me. He wouldn’t let anything harm me.” That last bit was meant as a barb—Cris still cared about me—but if Sam noticed my intent, he didn’t react.
“What would Cris do if you got into trouble?” His dark eyes narrowed. “What if a dragon carried you off? Or you slipped and broke a bone? He can’t catch you. He’d have to go find help, and you’d have to wait.”
“It doesn’t matter!” Shouting felt good. I didn’t fight it. “Nothing happened. The point is, he was there. I didn’t go alone. You’re just angry I didn’t run back and tell you.”
“Is that what you think?” He advanced on me, expression hard and fists curled at his sides. “You think I only care about knowing where you are and what you’re doing?”
I backed away, wary of the set of his shoulders and that dark look in his eyes. He looked like a creature barely contained.
I hated the way my voice shook. “You don’t seem to care about much else lately.” Not that I could blame him. My heel hit a tree trunk, then my shoulders and my spine. I’d backed away all I could. “You barely talk to me. You let Cris go out and find me the night I got lost.”
“I asked him to find you.”
“It was still dark.” I tried to edge away, but Sam pressed his palms to the trunk on either side of me, caging me. I steeled my voice. “You don’t speak to me. You barely look at me.”
He was looking at me now. His face was so close we could kiss, and all his weight leaned toward me, making him seem bigger than he really was. “What do you want me to do?” he rasped. “Say it doesn’t matter that you hid something so important from me? Say Armande’s death isn’t ripping me apart? Say I don’t care that we’re traveling back to the place I died so you can make friends with the things that killed me?”
“I know—” The words came out wispy and weak. “I know this is the last thing you want to do.”
“But I’m here, Ana. For you. Because you said you believed this would work. But you can’t expect me to be cheerful about it.”
“I don’t.” I felt like I was hardening, like ice. Without the sylph nearby, cold nipped at my nose and cheeks. Even the heat of Sam’s glare did nothing to warm me. “But you don’t have to suffer alone.”
That was the thing, though. He wasn’t suffering alone. He had Stef and Whit, even if he was still upset with Stef for hiding the truth. She’d hidden it at my request. They both understood how awful this was for him in a way I would never be able to comprehend.
I wasn’t worried about him suffering alone. I was worried about my suffering. My loneliness.
Before he could see the shame in my eyes, I turned my head. My voice was pale and weak, almost snatched up by the wind cutting around trees. “I made a mistake. Lots of mistakes.” Avoiding him was one of them. Sarit had told me to take action, but I’d been too afraid. I’d kept my distance and made little effort to comfort him when he needed it, too.
He didn’t move. With my head turned aside, I could see only his forearm at my shoulder, and even with his coat on, I could see the strain and tremble where he held himself up.
“I shouldn’t have hidden the truth from you, but I hoped you wouldn’t have to know, because you shouldn’t have to feel guilty about something you did five thousand years ago when you were young and scared.”
“Of course I have to feel guilty.” His tone softened. “Because of my decision, a hundred newsouls have been—” His breath caught. “It could have been you. I died shortly after Ciana. You and I were born only weeks apart. Everything was so close, you might have been th
e soul exchanged for my rebirth. You could have been one of those souls in the temple, paying for my selfish decision. I think about that every day. I think about it every time I look at you. How can I not feel guilty? How can anyone live under the weight of so much guilt?”
From the corner of my eye, he looked pained and passionate, like it took everything in him to stay together.
“You’re trying to absolve me so I won’t think about what I’ve done. What we all did. You’re trying to keep your friends good and blameless so we can continue on as we’d been before, but that’s not going to work. Let us accept the blame for what we’ve done. Let us deal with that blame. It’s not pleasant for any of us, but you can’t—and shouldn’t—try to stop it just because it makes you uncomfortable.”
Without another word, he spun toward camp and vanished into the woods.
17
DEFIANCE
HE WAS RIGHT. I’d been making decisions based on what made me most comfortable.
Forcing them to come north with me. Not telling them the truth about reincarnation. Keeping my silence with the group. Avoiding Sam.
But now I knew what to do.
It was a terrible plan, but as I stood there with my spine against the tree, my breath misting on the frigid air where the heat of Sam’s body had already dissipated, I knew it was the right plan.
My eyes closed and my face lifted to the treetops and sky beyond, I whispered, “Please,” to nothing. To everything. To something greater than me. “Please let this be right.”
Only the wind answered, howling through the valley and around the trees. Ice clattered and hoarfrost trembled. No wonder the phoenixes had built a prison this far north: dragons, freezing weather, and utter solitude.
I shivered and pushed toward camp again.
Inside the tent, Stef glanced up from the tray of rabbit jerky as she dropped the finished strips into a bag, but she didn’t speak. The sylph assisting her hummed and twisted darkly, and Sam, with his knees pulled up to his chest, rested his forehead on his arms.
Unbidden, my mind conjured an image of the three of them in the temple’s skeleton chamber, offering their wrists to Janan’s Hallow. Silver chains clattered and gleamed. A million souls said yes to the exchange. A million souls traded countless lives for their own infinity.
My friends wore chains inside the temple.
I shook away the dark fancy as Whit met my eyes, offering a weak smile. “We need to get moving soon,” he said. “We’re already behind. Only four weeks until Soul Night.”
“We should turn around.” I startled at the sound of my voice, breathless and rough with chill. “We should return to Menehem’s lab for the poison.”
Sam looked up.
“Just . . . go back.” While they stared at me, openmouthed, I retreated to my sleeping bag and pulled out my notebook, but Stef didn’t give me a chance to get lost in my work.
She slammed her tray on the ground. “Now you realize what a stupid plan this was? Now, after we’ve come all this way?”
I spoke to my notebook, monotone. “I’ve put you in enough danger. And like Whit said, we have only four weeks before Soul Night. We don’t have time to linger up here. We’ll be more useful in Range.”
“I can’t believe this.” Stef surged to her feet. “What about this weapon you were so convinced we needed?”
The dragons’ weapon? I had no idea what it was. Or how I’d request an object I couldn’t even describe. The temple books were next to useless on the subject, too.
“How long have you been thinking we should go back?” Stef went on. “One week? Two? You’re right: we could do more in Range. We could have been doing more in Range. But you said you had a plan. Then you dragged us up here. And now you say it’s time to turn around, having accomplished nothing but wasted time.”
There was no way to respond to that, so I just frowned at my notebook and bit the insides of my cheeks. Still, my eyes prickled with tears and I had to turn my head away from everyone.
“Are you satisfied?” Stef’s voice broke. “Are you happy that you’ve steered us so far off course?”
“Stop.” Whit heaved a sigh and gathered an armful of lanterns and battery chargers. “Just stop. Yelling won’t help.” He took everything outside to let it charge in the sunlight.
Stef marched after him, and a moment later their voices came, arguing about the best way back to Range.
From behind the shield of my notebook, I caught Sam watching me from the corner of his eye. But I didn’t acknowledge him, just lowered my eyes and began writing.
Sam had always believed in me. When I’d thought I was a nosoul, he’d insisted otherwise. He’d encouraged me until I believed, too. And when I’d thought there was no way I could help rewrite “Ana Incarnate” after Li had burned it in a fire, Sam had told me I could do anything. His belief had made me believe.
When he said he’d go anywhere with me, I’d suggested the moon and the bottom of the ocean. He’d liked that I thought big.
Now he was here with me. In the north. With dragons.
And my plan was too big, too wild. It was crazier than going to the moon.
I didn’t blame him for not believing in me anymore. It hurt, but the truth was that he’d put up with a lot more than anyone would have expected. But his anger earlier and his silence now spun a thread of defiance in me.
I would reach the dragons. And I’d convince them to help.
The others spent the day discussing routes and gathering enough food to last a few days, because clouds threatened snow. Sylph helped wherever they could, but kept shooting me little whines of disappointment.
After supper, everyone found their sleeping bags and tucked themselves in for the night. Sam gave me a long, weary look, and I remembered again that he’d stopped believing in me.
“Get some rest,” he whispered. “Tomorrow will be a long day.”
As if they hadn’t all been long. Yet still too short.
I burrowed into my sleeping bag, zipped it up all the way, and muffled my sobs with my mittens. How could this be so physically painful? We hadn’t touched. We’d barely spoken. I wished myself back in time, back to the first moment I met him. If I could start over again, I’d open up to him immediately. I’d have kissed him in the kitchen, rather than being disappointed he hadn’t kissed me. And after the masquerade, I’d have rushed him home before we could be attacked, then told him we’d be sharing a bedroom from now on.
But I wasn’t back in time. I was now. In my stuffy sleeping bag with all my things packed and a short note to leave in my place. Well, all my things except for the temple books. They wouldn’t help where I was going.
An hour later, the tent was filled with soft snores and deep breathing. I peeked my head out of my sleeping bag and checked, but no one stirred. Only the shadows shifted, their attention falling on me.
I pressed my finger to my lips. “Shh.”
Cris floated toward me, curiosity in the way he writhed like flame, but he was soundless as I pulled out my letter and reread it one more time before leaving it by Sam.
My friends,
By the time you wake, I’ll be gone. I hope you won’t follow. It was selfish of me to ask you to come this far. This isn’t your duty.
I don’t know if I’ll succeed, but I’m going to try to find answers, to find help. Someone told me he believed I could do anything, be anything I wanted because I’m new. He made me realize that one of my best qualities is not listening to what other people think I should do. He made me believe in myself.
If I have only one life, I’m not going to waste it. I’m going to fight for what I believe in. I believe in this.
I hope you can believe in me too.
I love you all,
Ana who Has Life
Quietly, I rolled my sleeping bag and strapped on my flute case, then secured my backpack over my shoulders. Cris and a handful of sylph followed me into the winter night, questions in their quiet songs.
-Where are you going?-
“To the prison,” I whispered.
-We’ll go with you.-
“Half of you stay with them. They’ll still need sylph.”
Cris bristled. -We are your army. We follow you.-
I crept away from the tent, careful where I placed my feet. My flashlight beam was weak, dimmed with the end of my scarf covering it. I didn’t want anyone to wake and notice the light. “You’re my army, so you’ll follow my orders, right?”
A few of the sylph grumbled, but finally Cris nodded and handful of shadows peeled away, heading back for the tent.
After one last look at the tent and my friends inside, I walked north, uncovering my flashlight once there was a thick layer of trees behind me. “Is there an easy way down the cliff that will get me to the prison wall?”
A few sylph darted ahead to scout a path.
-Sam will be angry.- Cris stayed beside me, keeping me warm. Snow drifted through the forest, melting away in my sylph’s heat.
“He’ll live.” I watched my step over a tangle of roots, listening hard for sounds of pursuit or animals in the forest. Dragons aside, other creatures were unlikely to bother me with sylph so near, but Sam had been right when he said I could fall or get hurt, and sylph wouldn’t be able to help. I had to be careful.
I could go back. I could sneak into the tent, crumple up the letter, and go to sleep. No one would ever know, except for the sylph, and they would keep my secret.
But I pressed on through the deepening night, following the sylph to a snowy path. My boot skidded, sending me to my butt and knocking the air out of me. I found my feet again, wincing at a new bruise as one of the sylph heated enough to dry my clothes.
“Can one of you—” I waved at the steep path that wound down the slope. It looked like a dragon path, all the branches above shredded and the ground littered with sticks and fallen evergreen needles, creating traps beneath the snow. “Melt it? Harden it?”
Sylph eased into a line, singing softly to one another. Steam rose around them, hot and hissing like a part of their melody. Heat billowed around me, smelling of ozone and ash; a trickle of sweat crawled down the back of my neck.
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