Page 37 of A Shard of Ice

Cyrano snores loudly. I’m surprised he hasn’t attracted more attention over the last few nights. Perhaps he has, and we just didn’t know about it. Thankfully, the rocky outcrops are getting more plentiful and bigger as the days go by.

When the time comes, I go and shake him awake. “Your turn,” I tell him. I’m not sure why I bother since I stay awakefor his watch, anyway. Cyrano has fallen asleep more than once during his watch, and, like with everything else, he can’t be trusted. I wake him because he needs to do his part, even if his part is half-assed.

I lie down. It’s nice to rest, even if I can’t sleep until Kyrie takes her turn.

The nights are almost as long and tedious as the days. It is an age before the sun finally creeps above the horizon.

The others seem to think that our ordeal will be over once we make it out of the desert, but that is far from true. I fear it will only be beginning.

I only hope that Kyrie changes her mind about going her own way. We will need to stick together more than ever if we plan to survive. If she plans to survive. She’s not going to get rid of me easily. At least, not until I am sure that she is safe.

I wish I had an inkling of where to go next. Back to the Ice Court is not an option. I’ll need to get Kyrie to safety and then take it from there.

We go through our morning routine and set out. By the end of today, we’ll be free of the desert and yet the thought has me feeling uneasy.

“You okay, Damon?” Kyrie asks me. She’s always been able to sense my moods. That hasn’t changed.

I nod and force a smile.

“We’ll find water and weapons. We’ll figure it out,” she says, guessing where my mind is at.

We.

That one small word gives me hope.

12

Kyrie

The countryside doesn’t change all at once, which I expected. It’s gradual, which I should have anticipated. We go from deep desert sand, where the sky is blue and the sun radiant, to patches of dead vegetation dotted here and there. Slowly, the ground beneath our feet begins to firm up, turning from pale beige to dark brown. The once clear sky gradually turns hazy until the sky is no longer blue, until eventually, clouds gather in thick clusters above us, weighed down by the promise of rain. Behind the clouds is the ever-present haze.

The temperatures have gone down to something more agreeable.

Then, the patches of dead vegetation give way to muddy patches and pools of brackish water with clumps of trees or bushes barely clinging to life. The air grows heavy with the smell of rotting plants and damp earth. After a time, an abundance of moss, lichen, and thick patches of fungus cling to every available surface in various shades of green, brown, and orange. It is as ifnature has taken over this part of the world and claimed it for its own. I know different. The life has been leached away.

“It’s worse than I remembered.” Cyrano sounds defeated.

“It is worse,” I tell him. “I think there is more death, rot, and decay than before.” I almost can’t believe what I am seeing. “Unless we are in a particularly bad section.”

“It’s a disgrace what has become of the realm,” Damon says. He sounds choked up. He was in the salt mine the longest, he will have missed some of the worst of the decline.

“There are…were pockets of land that fared better than this. Hopefully, they still exist,” I offer, hoping to ease the blow for all of us.

“The land needs its lifeblood back. Snow somehow stole it, and it needs to be given back before it’s too late. Once death fully takes hold, there will be no going back.” Damon’s eyes are filled with sorrow. As much as I want to keep holding onto my hatred for him, I can’t. Damon hasn’t once come across as a heartless fae. As someone who doesn’t care about anyone but himself.

In fact, the opposite is true. The more time I spend at his side, the more I am beginning to trust him again. Perhaps he is telling the truth about having a spell cast over him, about being in the dark just as much as we were. He has given me no reason to doubt him. In many ways, he is like the man I once knew, and in others…he is changed, but not necessarily in a bad way.

“You speak as if you plan on righting that wrong yourself,” I say.

“We should all be planning on righting that particular wrong. On taking our kingdoms back. On overthrowing Snow.”

I shush him, putting a finger over my lip. “You shouldn’t speak like that. It’s treason and could get you quartered and hung.”

“Us too, by association.” Cyrano looks around us as if someone might have overheard.

“Someone needs to say it. Someone needs to be brave enough to take action.” Damon speaks in his deep voice.

“And I suppose that someone is you?” Cyrano sneers. “A self-confessed nobody.”

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