Page 10 of This Frozen Heart

He studies me for a long moment before nodding solemnly and wrapping his cuffed arm around my waist. “Very well, lassie.” Then he dips me.

Stunned, I stare up at him and the sky beyond, where purples and blues dance across the sky to the same rhythm we move to.

“The music of the north told me to.” Kay winks. Then he slowly lifts me back upright.

But the rhythm I was dancing to seems to have slowed. Instead of twirling wildly, I draw closer to my strange dance partner. My arms wrap around his neck, and my fingers tangle in his hair as we both sway more softly.

“The music of the north told me to,” I whisper, my throat suddenly drier than any ale could remedy.

Kay just offers a soft smile as both his arms wrap around me in a comforting embrace. “Then I am pleased that, despite all our differences, little rebel, our souls can still hear the same song.”

Chapter Six

Kay

The rebel captain looks so peaceful in her rest. Wayward strands of her golden hair escape her braid to create a halo, making her look like one of the saints depicted in the stained-glass window of a cathedral.

A saint wearing furs and sleeping on a straw cot, that is. I’m not sure if this one is her cot or not, but it was the first empty one I found for her after she passed out in my arms mid-twirl.

I can only hope she doesn’t apply her drinking-equals-kissing philosophy to sharing others’ cots.

The memory of how she introduced that philosophy has my left hand tingling where she pressed her lips to it— repeatedly. I try to wipe my knuckles off on my tunic, but the ghost sensation persists. How long will it haunt me?

Mayhap this is what my last bunkmate meant when he teased me about my abstinence potentially leading to distraction instead of building discipline like I intended. He kissed girls all the time for no reason and likely would think nothing of that interaction.

Gerta was supposed to be a man. All the reports indicated she was. Apparently, the soldiers who were robbed had the same mindset as those who once misidentified the Holy Empress as the Bandit King.

Whether it was foolish pride or just plain idiocy, it doesn’t matter. Failure is not an option, and such things are far fromthe most relevant concept for me to consider tonight, so I push it from my mind. Then I turn to scan my surroundings.

The cot I’m standing beside is one of five in this cavern that are far enough from the entrance of the cave that I can only just see the moonlight. The cavern is also deep and has a strange warmth to it even though the fire is outside. Mayhap there is some kind of hot spring flowing beneath us.

We’re not alone in this cavern. The largest man in the company is passed out on another cot. The elfling didn’t even make it to a cot and collapsed onto several of the furs that decorate the stone ground.

The remaining male lies near the mouth of the cave. He was shouting something unintelligible earlier but has since gone silent. Well, in that way at least. He has been making the sound of wood being sawed since he joined his companions in slumber.

As for the werwölfe, she ran off shortly before Gerta passed out. There was a strange gleam in the woman’s eyes, and I can only hope that whatever drive lured her away keeps her far from the cave.

My gaze falls back on their sleeping leader. I wonder how she came to take charge. All these rebels seem roughly the same age, though the elfling is possibly far older due to how little time affects them. If they hadn’t chosen to join the wrong cause, they could have been part of my graduating class for officers.

Yet here we are, so similar in youth and zeal, but separated by geography and ideals. But even the geography didn’t use to be so different. There was once a time I belonged to this tundra until it rejected me.

I really ought to stop stalling and just wake Gerta. What is coming cannot be avoided for a moment later.

Placing a hand on her shoulder, I gently shake it.

Her brown eyes open, and she sits up suddenly, a knife already in her hand.

“All is well,” I whisper, hoping she recognizes me enough to not plunge the blade into me. “I’m sorry to wake you.”

Gerta sheathes her knife into her belt. “Kay?”

“I wouldn’t have bothered you if it weren’t so desperate,” I add, keeping my voice low enough that I don’t have to disturb anyone else from their sleep. “But I fear the ale has gone right through me, and I need to relieve myself.”

For a long moment, Gerta stares at me sleepily before she glances away as she realizes what I’m saying. “H-how did we even get in here?”

“I carried you in, but I didn’t think you’d appreciate me carrying you backout.”

“No, I suppose I wouldn’t have liked that very much. Let me see if one of the fellows can assist with this little issue . . .”

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