Page 8 of A Shard of Ice

The warmth of the sun on my skin is a stark contrast to the icy snow from just moments before. Kyrie’s grip around my waist tightens as she leans forward. I can feel her heart racing, matching the beat of the camel’s hooves on the sand.

“Are you alright?” I ask.

“No,” she says so softly that I can hardly hear her.

“It’s going to be fine. I can explain everything.”

She doesn’t say anything, but I can’t think about it now. I still my mind, keeping my thoughts on the trail ahead.

As we journey further into the vast desert, I steal a glance back at the mine. The storm clouds are all but gone, revealing a clear blue sky in their wake. I know that confusion will soon turn into realization for those we left behind. They will understand what I have become. Many of them saw me. My hair, my eyes, my ears. If I’m not careful, my torn shirt might reveal the marking across my back. I can only pray that no one saw it. I pull the torn garment more closely around myself. No one must know who I am. Not just yet.

For now, we are free. The endless expanse of golden dunes stretches out before us, untouched and full of possibility. Full of death, too. We will have to tread carefully if we are to make it out alive.

3

Kyrie

The camel finally slows. I’ve ridden horses before, and camels, by comparison are much less comfortable with their big, jerky movement when covering ground.

The slower pace is infinitely more comfortable to sit. Still, my back aches, and my spine feels like it might break at any moment. I’m going to have bruises in places I never knew existed and possibly even a blister or five. My right shoulder aches from holding onto Taylor.

“We need to catch up with Cyrano,” I tell him.

“We can’t,” he says. “We’re heavier than he is.”

Cyrano is a smudge of dust in the distance. Soon, his camel will climb a large dune, and then he will be out of sight.

“You must,” I insist. “I need to go with him.”

“You’re with me,” Taylor insists.

“I don’t even know you.” It hurts to say it, but it’s true. His hair isn’t dark brown like it’s always been; it’s white like snow. “You’re an icefae,” I spit. “One of them.” I know I am repeatingwhat I said earlier, but it’s just so outlandish…so unreal…so unfathomable.

Taylor keeps his eyes trained on the dunes ahead.

“You lied to me all this time,” I choke out, my gaze on his pointed ears. “How is it possible?”

“Sorcery.”

That’s for sure. Wicked magic. Treachery, the likes of which I’ve never seen before.

“You had us all fooled…even the guards. Why would you do such a thing? To what end?” My voice hitches with swirling emotions of betrayal, anger, and sorrow.

“We will talk later,” he snaps.

“No!” I say between gritted teeth. “You can stop and let me off this camel, or you can catch Cyrano. I refuse to travel with you any further.”

“There is no catching Cyrano.”

“Lona and Tom, then. I’ll go with them.”

“Then you will die,” he tells me in an even voice. “Each camel has supplies enough for one. Lona and Tom have very little chance of making it out alive. For Cyrano, it’s fifty-fifty.” I don’t have to ask why that is. I know of many of the dangers the desert possesses; least of all are lack of food and water or sickness caused by heat. We are prey out here. Prey to all the desert dwellers. Just thinking of it makes the hairs on my arms lift.

I look back almost longingly. Perhaps I should have stayed at the salt mine.

No!

I would rather walk toward Death and stare it in the face than have Death slowly smother me. The thought of what I left behind makes me square my shoulders and face forward. I have to see this through, even if it means riding with him…a fae. Even if it means dying. I’d rather die out here trying to live than die trying to survive.

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