Page 25 of A Heart of Ice and Shadow

He heard Levian coming before she entered. The mage looked harried, dressed in a flowing mauve-and-purple wrap dress, her white braids haphazardly knotted up and falling into her face and neck. A pencil was lodged between a few on top. Another was stuck behind her ear, and she was nibbling on the end of a third as she pored over a stack of papers in her hand. When she glanced up and caught sight of him, she stopped short.

“Sirus,” she blurted. “I expected you downstairs hours ago,” she added with a scathing frown, quickly recovering from her start. “I saw Gwen down the hall,” she added suspiciously when he said nothing. “You two alright?”

“I startled her,” he confessed, hoping to end this line of questioning before it began. “She’d come to find a book.”

Levian’s brow kicked up, and she let out a little scoff. “You really must stop prowling around the way you do,” she scolded him, gliding into the library. “I know this is your home, but you’re going to scare the poor thing to death one of these days, creeping up on her like that.”

Sirus took one last errant glance back into the shadows of the hall where Gwendolyn had disappeared. There was a time not long ago when he might have thought the same, but more and more he’d begun to think Gwendolyn was growing to enjoy him sneaking up on her. He could sense the little rush of adrenaline that would pulse through her. The little hitch of her breath. The rise of color in her cheeks.

Levian sat in the middle of her stack of books at the table, that charred skull she so adored perched on top of one of the piles. She glanced up at him and scowled slightly. “Honestly, even I don’t want you sneaking up on me,” she admitted with unease. “And I’ve known you for centuries.”

Monster. Devil. Hound. Predator. Killer. Vampire. All the truth of what he was.

The others knew to keep their distance. Felt wary of him instinctively, as they should. Why couldn’t she?

Chapter Seven

The tips of Gwen’s fingers itched, and she rubbed them on the coarse, cool surface of her jeans to relieve the sensation. It didn’t work. She scratched her arm under her sweater, where another patch of tingling, mind-numbing itch had suddenly burst forward. With a groan of frustration, she stopped in the middle of the forest, her ragged breaths fogging her vision. She scratched that spot. Then one at her neck, and one at her lower back, until she was spastically scratching all over.

She stood still and satisfied, her eyes closed and her face turned up to the dreary, frost-laden sky. Then her fingers twitched, and that feeling started to creep back through the tips. The magick hummed and vibrated under her skin like it was fighting to get free. As if it were going to seep out of her very skin if only she’d scratch hard enough. She’d felt it before, but nothing like this.

This was maddening! She couldn’t take it anymore. With a snarl, she stomped further into the forest, barely recognizing the crisp, cool air between grumbles of irritation and twitching scratches.

If Levian were here, Gwen would have gone to her for help like she usually did, but the mage had gone with Niah to visit the Wizen Council of Mages. It was the most ridiculous name for a group of bearded old fogies she’d ever heard. Not that they were old fogies, necessarily—that’s just how Gwen had imagined them when Levian explained the Council to her. All she could envision were a bunch of ancient, liver-spotted old men with waist-length beards, pointed hats, and thick robes. She’d been amused by her own imagery. A convenient way to mask the truth.

Gwen was anxious. No one made a big fuss about it, but she wasn’t totally naïve anymore. She could tell this meeting was important. That Levian hoped to finally get some answers. During their time together in the library, the mage always seemed to have her face stuffed in a book or a scroll or some dusty ancient tome, frantically scribbling notes as she went along, nearly half a dozen pencils lodged somewhere nearby in case she had a sudden thought and needed to write it down. Gwen assumed the habit had developed because she couldn’t conjure in Volkov like usual. It was a little funny, actually, to see how someone who relied so heavily on magick dealt without it. Levian hadn’t said anything, but Gwen had caught her more than once mindlessly trying to summon something, only to remain empty-handed. Then she’d grumble a curse and get up to hunt what she’d been wanting.

Niah had gone with the mage for the meeting with the Council of Mages. They left last night, right at twilight. The itch had started this morning, near dawn. Just a slight annoying sensation at the end of her fingers. Barith and Rath had left early to run errands in the village, and Gwen had felt too out of sorts to go with them. She’d tried to read in the library. That hadn’t worked. She’d paced around the den where she and Barith and the others hung out most mornings and after dinners. That hadn’t done anything. She’d walked around the garden. Nothing but this itching. Then she’d gone to her room to take a bath. Itch. Scratch. Itch. She’d paced a trail in the rug by her bed, her fingers running over her body to satisfy each new blooming spot of irritation.

Eventually, she felt like she was going to claw out of her own skin. Relief. She needed relief. And there was only one thing she could think to do. Only one place she could think to go. Anything to stop this torture!

Gwen found her way to the hot spring without hardly thinking. Her body had simply homed in on it like a beacon. The moment her eyes fell on the steaming water, her skin trilled with anticipation.

Relief. Relief. Relief.

She threw the towel she’d brought over a large rock and frantically tore off her boots, then peeled out of her clothes. When she was in nothing but her underwear, she dipped her foot in the water. It was hot, but not so hot she had to brace herself. Her skin skittered with gooseflesh as the frosty air caressed her bare skin. It was pleasant. Anything was pleasant compared to that damn itching.

Gwen slipped in her other foot and balanced her way along the rocks until she was knee deep. Already she felt the waters working over her skin in soothing, caressing relief. The moment she realized she wasn’t going to scald anything, she dove her entire body in.

Wonderful warmth enveloped her, and she groaned at how good it felt. She’d been right. The hot spring was just what she needed. Her skin tingled where it had itched just moments ago, and she savored the simple pleasure of it, dunking her head below the surface. The tingle spread over her face and scalp. It was absolute heaven. When she surfaced, she let out a breathy, raw laugh.

She should have come here ages ago. It was amazing. Though she knew exactly why she hadn’t.

Her eyes darted around the shifting trees and forest brush. It was well into morning now, but the sky was dark with dense gray clouds threatening heavy with snow. The air was frigid and moist, the winds soft but enough to stir the shadows. She swallowed her nerves, turned her back to the trees, and stepped along the rocky surface below to draw deeper into the pool until she stood with the water up to the middle of her neck. The spring was surprisingly deep for how small it was. If she went much further, she knew she’d have to tread water and swim. Gwen scanned the tree line again over her shoulder, half expecting Sirus to come gliding out of the shadows at any second. When he didn’t, she relaxed and tensed at the same time.

She’d not come back here since the day he brought her to this place. When she stood staring into the woods long enough that her hair and ears grew cold, she grumbled with frustration and pushed herself into the center of the pool. She swam for a while, loving the feel of the water against her skin. She’d never been much of a swimmer, but this wasn’t any ordinary pool. Gwen splashed around, enjoying the strain and stretch of muscles she rarely used. Enjoying the way her muscles, which were already sore from training, seemed to relax and loosen under the healing touch of the waters.

She swam lightly to the back of the pool, where it butted against a flat slab of rock cut from the hillside. Giant boulders and several other rocks were nestled around it. She was surprised there were no carvings in the rock since it seemed like everything else around Volkov was carved and crafted for beauty.

As she drew closer, she could see that a bench of sorts had been cut out of a giant boulder. It was tall and oblong, almost like a natural throne. A perch to rest and relax beneath the surface. Gwen nestled into the seat, tilting her head back against the warm stone behind her.

It made sense, she supposed, the longer she sat there. This place was beautiful in its own regard. It didn’t need the touch of chisels or the mark of artistry. If was a wonder of nature and magick, and anyone who spent time here would understand why it was best left as it was.

Gwen kicked her feet delicately and ran her arms wide just below the surface, enjoying the rush of the water over her tingling skin. It took all of two seconds before she started thinking about Sirus again.

Their training had been tough. Way tougher than it had been with Niah. He pushed her. Frustrated her. Drove her nuts, honestly. Gwen nibbled at her lip, trying to stifle the smile that threatened. She’d wanted to chuck her sword at his head more than once when she was bent over heaving air into her lungs and he told her to get back into position. It was insane, but in a week she’d already learned most of the basic forms and movements he’d taught her. She was also getting stronger.

Gwen had been worried she’d overstepped that night in the library, but Sirus hadn’t mentioned it since. To her surprise, he’d even started joining them all in the den after dinner every night. Mostly he drank wine and corrected Barith and Levian when they recounted some of their wild stories from working together. It was her favorite part of the day. More so the part after, when Sirus would walk her back to her room on his way back to his study. He never tried to touch her or linger at her door.

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