Page 45 of A Shard of Ice

My mind is in turmoil over all I have learned. I feel every emotion there is to feel and all at once. From deep sorrow to exultation. The general’s words keep rolling through my mind.

It’s dark, twisted magic.

The queen is immensely powerful.

Her reach is far.

Even the rocks have ears.

She wants you alive.

Her bounty on the remaining kings is alive or dead. Why does she want me alive? I don’t understand. How are we going to defeat Snow?

The shadows start to fall away. They leave almost as quickly as they arrived, sucking back into the general, first swirling around him for a few seconds before disappearing altogether.

He puts a finger to his lips. I nod once in agreement. I will stay silent. I will hold my tongue for as long as is necessary. Wewill escape. I will find the others, and we will overthrow Snow. There is no other option.

15

Kyrie

His grip on me is tight as he half drags me from the tent. I flail and kick, trying to get him to let me go.

“Leave me alone! Put me down! What in the gods’ names are you doing?” I shout, eliciting looks from the guards posted outside.

Cyrano keeps marching away. I look back; from the outside, the large tent looks completely normal. One of the guards walks to the flap we just exited from and tugs it aside.

The swirling shadows are still thick behind the tent material.

He drops the flap.

“It looks like the general is havinga wordwith the icefae.” All of them laugh.

Cyrano puts me down, and I immediately attempt to run back into the tent. He hooks an arm around me. “It’s too dangerous. You can’t—”

I elbow him in the ribs, and he lets me go with an “oomph.”

“You should listen to your friend,” one of the guards says. “It would be madness to go in there right now.”

“He’s not my friend,” I snarl, my gaze on Cyrano. “What is wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you, Kyrie? All I have done is to try to save you. To help you, but you keep throwing it in my face,” he says in a low voice that still manages to hold venom.

“Trying to save yourself, you mean?” I whisper-shout.

He nods. “Yes, of course. We need to escape this predicament together. You and me.”

“There is no you and me anything. You’ve more than likely gotten him killed.” I feel my eyes well with tears. “I can’t believe you would stoop so low.”

“I meant everything I said. Damon is not to be trusted. He’s keeping something from us. Something big,” he whispers.

“No, he isn’t. You’re just paranoid.” I’ve had the same feeling more than once, but I’m not going to admit that to Cyrano. If Damon is keeping something from me, it’s for good reason. I know it. I refuse to believe anything else.

A loud crack comes from inside the tent, followed by a muffled cry. I freeze, my heart doing somersaults in my chest. The guards exchange worried glances, hands instinctively moving to the hilts of their weapons.

Cyrano grabs my arm, his expression urgent. “We have to go. Now,” he whispers, pulling me away.

I wrench away from his grasp, giving him a shove. “I told you I’m not going anywhere with you. We need to get that very clear.”

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