Page 59 of A Shard of Ice

It makes me long for something. Not something. For that. For someone to look at me like that.

“Those are the Absidium Mountains.” Xander looks up, his eyes hazy with thought.

“Yeah, we’re at the base. The Ice Court is in the heart of those mountains,” Thesha tells me.

“We’re close to the entrance of the old diamond mine, am I right? It should be at the foot of that hill, only a sneeze away from the fae camp.”

“Yes, but no…” Thesha shakes her head wildly. “Absolutely not. If you’re thinking of entering those mines, you can think again. Come up with something else.”

“It would be a last resort, but it is a fallback option. Damon knows the mines well.”

“Did he work there?” I ask, hoping to glean more information about Damon from these two.

“No.” Xander smiles. He gives me what seems like a pitying look. “The mines closed many sun cycles ago. Before Damon was even born.”

“And why is it that they closed the mines, Xander?” Thesha asks. I can tell she knows the answer.

“Because there was the odd tunnel collapse, and the cave rats were somewhat of a problem.”

“Somewhat of a problem.” Thesha snorts. “I heard they ate some of the workers alive.”

“Are we going to let a few pesky rats keep us from—?”

“Yes,” Thesha says with venom in her voice.

“I don’t love the sound of man-eating rats or tunnels collapsing,” I say.

“Kyrie agrees,” Thesha says.

“Kyrie is staying with the horses and out of harm’s way.” Xander gives me a look. “We’ll see if we can come up with a better backup plan; if not, the mines are it.”

“It’s a death wish,” Thesha says under her breath.

I have a feeling that Thesha has faced many perils. That she runs headfirst into danger at the drop of a helm, but she’s fearful of those caves. I pray it doesn’t come to that.

21

Damon

I open my eyes, knowing that something woke me up. I strain to hear what that something was. There’s a shuffle of a boot. Someone close by sniffs.

Neither of those sounds would have woken me. A horse snorts in the distance. The wind rustles the tent. Again, all normal sounds. The kind you drown out. The kind that don’t mean anything.

I wait. Just as I’m starting to relax, an owl hoots from somewhere in the distance. Once and then a second time in quick succession. It’s fairly high-pitched for an owl, and it’s what woke me, for sure.

It’s a species I recognize since they are found in these mountains. I hear it again, two quick hoots. It’s a Frost Wing, except that particular owl species only hoots once before a long pause. It’s never twice in quick succession like that. The pitch is accurate, but not the frequency.

I smile.

Someone is out there, and they’re trying to alert me. At least, I think that’s it. I can’t be sure. What I do know is that something is about to happen. I hope I’m right. The guards in the tent with me are none-the-wiser. It’s not unusual for an owl to hoot at night, so why would they be? Bloodfae are not from around these parts, so they don’t know any better.

I stay perfectly still and keep my breathing even. There are two guards in the tent with me and two more outside. I’m sure they’ll have a guard on the horses and one or two more patrolling the general area.

The owl goes silent. I’m sure that whoever is out there is making their move. I let my eyes adjust to the dark. One of the guards is asleep. I catch his soft snores. The other is standing in front of me. He keeps shuffling his feet, probably trying to stay awake and also to stave away the worst of the cold.

We’re in a tent. I’m inside my bedroll and covered with an extra blanket, and still, white mist plumes from my mouth.

I wait…and wait some more. It’s almost too quiet out there now. I’ve only just thought it when there is a soft thud and a grunt from outside the tent.

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