Page 17 of A Shard of Ice

He’s right.

“This isn’t the same camel as Lona and Tom’s.” It doesn’t look the same to me, but I’m not sure.

He shakes his head. “It’s Cyrano’s beast.”

“Oh, no.” I feel my eyes well with tears. “Does that mean…?” I can’t say the words.

He shrugs. “I don’t know. We should probably assume the worst.”

I make a sobbing noise and cover my mouth with my hand. I somehow manage to hold back my tears. It’s not like I was close friends with Cyrano, but I knew him. I would hate it if he were hurt or dead.

“We are going in the same direction the camel took, so perhaps there will be clues along the way,” he says as he starts to walk, leading the beast.

“Aren’t you going to ride?”

“I want to give the poor creature a chance to catch his breath. Perhaps after our next break, you can ride the injured one. You weigh less than I do, which would make it less taxing for him to carry you.” He strokes the camel’s neck, his eyes on the wounds. They are scabbing over. I agree; they don’t look too bad. I also agree that the animal looks tired after its ordeal.

“Poor thing,” I say as Taylor starts walking, leading both camels as he walks between them.

I wince at the incorrect name. It’s in moments like this that he reminds me of my friend. Of Taylor, the human.

He’s not, though.

He’s one of them.

The fae wreck homes. They wreck lives. They tear apart families. They kill and plunder. They have zero regard for us humans. I can’t get soft toward this fae.

I can still hear the screams of my mother…of my sister. I can still see the lifeless body of my father. I think I saw his chest move just before I was knocked out. I’m pretty sure I did. I want so badly to believe that he was still alive, but I might never know.

That is the reality. I might never know where they ended up. If they are alive or dead. These questions could haunt me forever.

They probably will, and all because of his kind.

I look down at the fae leading the camels. I take a good hard look at his hair, at his pointy ears.

Taylor is gone. He never truly existed. This fae is called Damon.

I turn my attention to our surroundings. I look up into the sky. All seems fine, but it isn’t. The wound on this camel’s rump attests to that. The fact that Cyrano is missing is even more reason to believe it.

We’re not safe. Not even close. And yet, I know deep down inside that this fae is my only real hope of making it out alive. I don’t have to trust him or like him, but I do need to stick with him. I really don’t have a choice.

Damon

I hate how Kyrie looks at me now that I have been transformed. Through narrowed eyes, and they’re filled with such distrust. The tone she uses with me is clipped, and that’s if she speaks to me at all. I wish she would let me explain, but what would I tell her? How would I even begin to make her understand?

It’s impossible.

I doubt she would believe a word. I struggle to believe it myself and I lived through it.

I can’t say I blame her for hating me. I thought I was a human up until not so long ago. I hated the fae just as much as she does. I still do, even though I’m one myself.

We weren’t always like this.

I hate what we have become.

We’ve been corrupted by her…by Snow. I’m not sure of exactly how she’s doing it, only that she is.

The fae used to live by a code of honor. That code is long gone. It’s dead and buried. We bicker and fight among our own. The different species of fae hate each other. We always lived side by side with humans. We lived in understanding and with respect for one another. Now, we use them.

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