Page 13 of A Shard of Ice

“No.” I clear my throat. “I thought it was Taylor, but...”

“And what about being from the Plains of Babel.”

“I’m an icefae. I’m not from Babel.” I sound apologetic as I say it. “I truly believed I was from Babel, I swear it.”

She lies down, turning over. “Save it! Your family wasn’t taken by the fae like mine were. You’re a liar, Taylor…or whatever your name is.”

“They weren’t taken, no, but they—”

“I told you, I don’t care!” She huffs. “I’m getting some sleep. I mean it; we don’t talk unless it is vital to our survival. Taylor is dead to me.Youare dead to me. This is purely survival on my part. If I had any other choice, I would take it, but I don’t.”

I feel guilty and, at the same time, bereft without my friend. I hate that I hurt Kyrie. I hate this whole situation. My chest is tight. My entire body is tense and bristling. I wish she would let me talk to her. Let me explain. Then again, I doubt she wouldbelieve me. Even I have a hard time believing it. Also, if she knows the truth about me, it could put her in grave danger. I can’t have that. For now, I am her lifeline, but soon, she will be better off far away from me. I hate the thought of leaving her side.

I sit on a fallen rock, keeping my eyes on the darkness ahead, letting them sweep across the sand. The camel has settled. For now, all is quiet.

I’ve never felt so alone. So frustrated and angry. I need to get Kyrie to safety and then I need to find the others. I have a responsibility. One I never wanted. One I never thought would fall on me, but here we are.

My eyes sting, and my throat feels clogged. Lost memories flood my head. I was never given a chance to grieve.

Kyran.

I rub my stinging eyes, my hand coming away wet. Then I square my shoulders and grit my teeth for what lies ahead. I harden myself against the well of emotion. This is not the time for grieving. Not yet, anyway.

I will make Snow pay for what she did if it’s the last thing I ever do.

5

Kyrie

Taylor – no, he is not Taylor!

I take a deep breath.

The fae– that’s better - insists that I ride the camel. He walks beside us, holding one of the reins. It feels like hours and hours have gone by. I’m tired even though I’m not the one trudging through deep sand.

There is nothing but blasted sand for miles and miles. Not even a rock or a tumbleweed. There’s nothing but sand and more godsforsaken sand.

“Let’s stop for a break,” Taylor…the faesays, halting the camel and looking at me with his piercing blue eyes.

They’re all wrong. A stark reminder all over again that this is not Taylor.It’s not!

He tries to help me down, but I ignore his outstretched hand, leaping from the beast without his help. I stagger, and then I land on my knees in the burning sand. It’s soft, so it doesn’t hurt.

With pointed ears sticking out from his snowy white hair, he tries to help me up, but I ignore that, too, waving him off. Iclamber to my feet unassisted, dusting the sand from my clothes as best I can. I pull the light linen scarf more securely over my head and neck, trying to get some reprieve from the harsh sun and finding none.

“I’m not your enemy,” he tells me.

I snort and shake my head. “We’re not having this conversation again.”

His jaw is tight, and his eyes are blazing, but much to my relief, he doesn’t argue.

“Last time I checked, you had pointy ears and freakish eyes, which means we are very much enemies. We’re just stuck in the middle of a reluctant truce right now.”

“And you’re going to run me through as soon as the truce ends.” His eyes crinkle at the edges, and his mouth hitches with the start of a smile that reminds me so much of Taylor it hurts. It’s a physical pain that blossoms from somewhere inside my chest, spreading outward.

I miss my friend. Taylor is the person I would turn to for help. I tell him everything. Ask his advice and he’s always so pragmatic in his assistance. Always there for me.

Not anymore.

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