Page 80 of Of Sword & Silver

Without the shelter of the hills and woods, there’s an uncomfortable bite to the air that even my cloak doesn’t quite keep from nipping through.

A grey thicket of clouds blankets the sky, and before long, tiny dots of ice-cold snow prickle along my cheeks and nose.

“It’s going to get worse,” Morrow calls from the lead. “We need to push harder so we don’t lose any more time.”

Time. We all feel the weight pressing down on us of making it to Nyzbern in time for the distraction of the midwinter masque.

I cough, the tension in my chest ever tighter. Before we set off, Caedia handed me a flagon of some kind of herbal drink and I swig from it now, the taste bitter.

“He’s right,” the dryad calls from her white horse. “This storm is coming fast. I can feel it.”

The Sword nods, as distant as ever, hardly sparing me a word today, even after our… mild truce last night. Well, maybe not a truce, but we weren’t at each other’s throats for once.

I’ve caught him looking at me, though. Throughout the morning, and even now, his gaze weighs heavy on me.

Fil the direcat was nowhere to be seen when I woke, but the ground was still warm where he’d been lying. Even now, trying to outrun the snow, I can’t shake the feeling he’s not far from us.

The world turns quiet as the snow begins falling in earnest, smothering out color and making the horses steam with their efforts.

There’s no time for chat as we do our best to outrun the worst of the snow.

“We need to find a place to stay for the night,” Lara yells, the wind nearly drowning out her words.

The horses’ hooves sink in the snow. To our left, the Hiirek Mountains hide behind a veil of icy lace, a bride of jagged peaks. I blink through the snow gathering on my lashes. The tip of my nose went numb an hour ago, and the reins feel frozen in my hands.

“There,” Morrow booms, and one of the horses screams in terror at his sudden sound.

Lara’s right. The sooner we get our animals out of this storm, the better.

I squint, trying to make out whatever Morrow’s seen, but my horse slips, losing her footing on the icy frozen ground.

“Fucking hells,” I yelp, grabbing fistfuls of mane and trying to stay upright. My horse squeals, a high-pitched noise of pure terror. My heart jumps into my throat.

I don’t want her to break a leg. Gods, I don’t want to break a leg, either.

“Woah, girl, it’s alright, it’s alright.” I’m shouting, the wind so loud I can hardly hear myself.

Finally, I regain control of her and she stops prancing, her sides heaving. I slip off her back, determined to lead her on foot, but one look around tells me the worst.

I’ve lost sight of everyone else.

The storm’s only worsened, and all I can see are white sheets of snow in every direction.

I blow out a breath, the air so cold now it’s sharp against my lungs. The horse nudges my shoulder.

Well.

Maybe it won’t be the curse that kills me after all. I huff a laugh, but there’s no humor in it.

“Kyrie,” a voice bellows to my right. “Kyrie, where are you?”

It’s the Sword.

Of course it is. He’s stalking towards me, his hair so bright it shines even against the snow, his black clothes a blot of inky night against white.

I’m so happy to see him, I could cry. Except my tears would freeze in my eyelashes, and that would be truly embarrassing because he would know without a doubt I was crying.

“Don’t think for a minute you’re getting out of this that easily,” he says roughly.

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