Page 125 of Of Sword & Silver

A river rushes and eddies in front of me, blocks of scuzzy ice on the quieter parts of the shoreline, all grey and white and deepest blue. I blink up at the sky, trying to figure out what time it is, but it’s too cloudy to tell, the sun blotted out by them.

“We’re at the River Blanst,” the Sword says, jogging over to me.

The horses are eating, tails flicking behind them and breath clouding in front of their nostrils in the cold.

“Blanst,” I echo, rubbing the back of my neck.

The Sword crouches next to me, fingers gently prodding behind my ear.

“Ouch,” I say, swatting away his hand and glaring at him.

“The swelling’s gone down.” He closes his eyes slowly, relief relaxing the furrow in his brow. “It’s better.”

“What day is it?” That’s not what I meant to ask. “How long?—”

“You slept for a day and a half. I woke you to give you the potions Caedia made for you, and we rode here.”

“And now we can do the ritual?” I ask.

Filarion, who apparently was acting as my pillow, stretches out long behind me, his tail twitching as he saunters off.

“We need to be in a certain place to do the ritual.”

“A place? Now we have to be in a certain place? What’s wrong with this place?” I hedge, looking around.

“There is a cavern, not far from here. It’s sacred. The spell will be more powerful there. I don’t want to risk—” he pauses, swallowing so hard his throat bobs. “We cannot risk it going wrong.”

“How far?”

“Not far.”

“Then let’s go.” I try to stand, but dizziness makes my knees weak. The Sword holds a hand out, steadying me.

“No,” he says, shaking his head.

I scowl at him and he sighs. “Why?”

“You need your strength.” He won’t look at me. He’s staring at the river.

“Fine. Give me some food and then we can go.” I jut my chin out stubbornly.

“You could make me take you, you know? With your powers.” The Sword finally meets my eyes. “Why don’t you just do that?”

My scowl deepens.

He doesn’t look away, just watches me carefully.

“I’m not going to use that on you.”

“Why not, little liar?”

I huff.

He waits, his calloused palm finding my cheek, barely touching me there. My eyes sting with tears, and I try to swallow them.

“Because I care about you,” I finally answer.

The truth of it, of my feelings for him, shines between us like a beacon, like it’s something I could hold and shape with my hands.

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