Page 25 of Court of Bone and Amethyst

Just past sunset, we reach the ruins of an ancient fortress, which will be our home for the night. The locals all think the place is haunted, so they steer clear. No doubt it is haunted, but I’d sooner face off with a ghost than the nightmare that hunts us, not to mention the army. The guardians have long used this place as a safe haven, so I’m not worried about a few specters.

I do a quick sweep on my horse while everyone else waits beyond the crumbling walls, just to make sure there aren’t any corporeal terrors lurking within. But, as suspected, we are alone. I call to the others and dismount my horse, patting him onthe neck. He’d certainly earned his grain today. Leading him forward, I weave between the half-walls and crooked pillars and broken archways to a place that we guardians had made into an enclosure for our mounts, with a fence made of stone. There, I take off his saddle and bridle and offer him a small portion of grain from one of my satchels.

The others find me soon enough, and within a few minutes all the horses are taken care of. A chilling wind cuts down from the north, a warning not to travel closer unless we desire ice and pain. But I’ve spent so much time in the northern climate that it’s as familiar to me as my home.

“How old is this place?” Sarielle asks in a hushed tone as I roll a big rock across the entrance of the enclosure to keep the horses in. She’s standing a few feet away, rubbing her arms vigorously to stay warm.

“I have known this place more than six hundred years,” I say, “And it was ancient even then, the first time I saw it as a young guardian.”

“I forget sometimes how old the fae are,” she murmurs. Then, as if realizing how that sounded, her eyes widen. “I mean—not that—”

I can’t help the smile that turns my lips. “I have lived a very long time, it is true.” My eyes spark against hers. “Besides, I forget sometimes how much of a baby you are, in terms of years.”

She rolls her eyes, but a small smile plays over her face, too. It feels good, just for a moment, to forget the dire circumstances we’re in.

“And where arewegoing to sleep?” she asks.

“This way.” I gesture with one hand.

Sarielle and the others follow me as I lead the way toward the only structure that remains standing in the ruins. At least, partially standing. I wonder, as I have before, what purpose thebuilding served long ago, and who lived here. Was it a barn, a church, a grand hall? Time has erased any indication of its history.

The part that remains standing is perhaps twenty feet square. A huge slab of stone serves as the roof, though half of it is broken, revealing the starry night sky. The guardians have added their own touch to the place by creating a large fire pit in the center, with stones encircling it. There’s even some dry wood still sitting in the center, left by whoever traveled here last.

“I’m starving,” Sarielle says.

Owyn echoes her sentiment, and we divvy up the bread and the last of the cheese. Merla starts the fire with a ball of magic, and soon a comforting warmth spreads outward, fighting back the worst of the chill. After we’re done eating, Sarielle rummages through her saddle pack, her expression mournful.

“It appears we’re on a strict diet of stale bread for the next week or so. Not that I’m complaining,” she adds hastily.

“In the morning, I’ll go to the nearby village and get supplies,” I say. “It’s the last stop before we enter the northern wastelands, and we’ll need warmer clothing. I’ll restock on cheese and whatever else I can find.”

“Are you sure no one will recognize you?” Owyn asks.

I shake my head. “That’s why I’ll go alone.”

“Perhaps I should go instead,” he offers. “You are… you leave an impression.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I growl, a glower on my face.

Owyn chuckles. “Just that you are clearly a guardian, and if questioned, people will remember you.”

“I could be any sell sword or warrior. I’m hardly the only type like that to travel through Frost Haven.”

“True, but guardians give off a distinct vibe. A mix between a hero and a monk.” Owyn shrugs, and Sarielle and Merla both let out gasps of laughter, quickly suppressed behind their hands.

My scowl deepens, and I get up from my spot by the fire. “I’m going, end of discussion. I’ll just do my best not to look like a sanctimonious ass while I’m there.”

I turn and stride off, and when Sarielle calls after me, I say, “I’m going to catch a proper dinner.”

Once beyond the walls of the ruins, I relish the bite of the icy wind, trying to calm my boiling nerves. I should take Sarielle and leave Owyn and his apprentice behind to fend for themselves. My responsibility is to protect Sarielle, and Owyn is a distraction and a liability. Plus, he just rubs me the wrong way. Talk aboutsanctimonious. He’d really laid it on thick how he’d waited alone in the ruins of Castle Otreyas so he could keep his vow to Sarielle’s mother and devote his life to her. That’smyjob, and Sarielle doesn’t need two guardians.

I growl and keep going until I’m far out in the hills beyond the ruins. The land is dotted with small, wiry shrubs that bear yellow flowers in the summer. Now they are practically bare, like little skeletal hands scraping for the sky. I climb onto a small outcropping of rock and sit down, going still as the wind whistles around me, doing its best to unseat me from my perch. I watch the expanse before me, particularly the shadows between the shrubs and small boulders scattering the land, my eyes keen in the moonlight.

Despite my anger, I know Sarielle will be upset if I take her away from the one connection to her family she still has left. As long as Owyn doesn’t do anything to endanger her, I’ll try to tolerate him, at least until we reach the safety of the Court of Memory. After that, all bets are off. Of course, I have no idea what our next move will be after we reach the northern court. Our fate beyond that point is a complete blur, as unseeable as the blizzards that ravage the lands there.

My mind keeps spinning, but my eyes don’t betray me. When I catch a flash of movement in the light of the moon, the daggerin my hand flies through the night, and a few moments later I have a large hare slung over my shoulder. Owyn is right about one thing—a sell sword would never bother to catch dinner for everyone.

A few minutes later, as I approach the ruins, I hear a shout from within. I break into a run, dropping the rabbit and pulling my sword. But when I dash around the corner of one of the crumbled walls, I don’t see enemies attacking. I see Sarielle and Owyn and Merla having a sparring match with their magic. Sarielle lets out a cry as a wave of shadows pours out of her, flying straight for Owyn, but he dissipates it with a simple wave of the hand.

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