Page 68 of A Killing Cold

Connor tells me I don’t have to go to dinner. Everyone will understand. But I have to. I have to be able to look into their faces. I dress in the clothes Connor bought me—wool trousers, a cowl-neck sweater in sage green, the same red coat, hastily washed, because I don’t have another.

Olena takes my jacket. Irina walks us to the dining room. The doors open and faces turn toward us. Rose rises from her seat. “Theo, shouldn’t you be resting?” she asks. Is that only concern in her voice, or is there displeasure, too?

“I’d rather have some company,” I say. Connor pulls my seat out for me; I lower myself into it. My left arm is bulky with the bandage underneath, and it twinges every time I move.

Louise and Magnus exchange a glance. It’s not the only one being traded down the table. Trevor sits back with a smile, a glass of sparkling water in hand.

“Glad to see Connor’s attempt to get out of the wedding wasn’t a success,” he says.

“Trevor,” Alexis chides.

“What? I’m just glad I’m not the only Dalton who almost killed someone,” Trevor tosses off.

“Shut the fuck up, Trevor,” Alexis snaps.

“Lex,” Paloma says, looking pointedly at Sebastian. “Please.”

“That’s enough of that kind of talk,” Magnus cuts in. He shakes out his napkin. “We’re glad you could join us, Theo.”

Connor’s hand rests on my back, between my shoulder blades. “Well, it’s going to be our last dinner here, so we wanted to make sure to at least stop by,” he says.

Louise’s eyebrows raise. Alexis gives a twitch of surprise.

“Your last dinner?” Rose says, with the air of someone trying not to fret. “You’re leaving?”

“I think if I stick around any longer, I might lose an arm next,” I say, trying for humor. Instead it sounds like prophecy.

“You’ll miss Christmas,” Alexis says. “We’ve literally never missed a Christmas together.”

I wish I could shrug Connor’s hand from my back without being obvious. I’d thought we weren’t going to make a big announcement. I wanted to leave quietly. Explain things when it was already too late to argue.

“Are you seriously surprised she wants to run?” Trevor asks.

“It’s perfectly reasonable, after what happened,” Paloma says.

“Perfectly,” Magnus agrees, voice neutral. He raises his glass in my direction. “I’m sorry that the mountain treated you poorly. I hope when you’ve recovered, you’ll give it another chance.”

The wrapping paper was in Magnus’s room. This is what Magnus wanted. Me, leaving. But not with Connor.

Nick says nothing, but stares at me. A needle of cold goes through me, and I hear the rush of my own blood in my ears. Nick’s gaze doesn’t relent. He holds his glass, a single drop of red wine balanced at the rim, but doesn’t drink.

He knows me. He didn’t before, I think. But now he’s seen.

“Theo?” Connor is saying, and I startle. Irina has already arrived with the first course; I’ve been drifting.

“Yes, thank you,” I say, not sure what was being asked, but it appears to be the right answer as Irina adds a generous helping of Parmesan to the top of my salad. Thick, dark slices of beet are arranged on top. They’re cold against my teeth and taste faintly of rich soil. When I dab my lips on the white napkin it comes away with pink stains. Sebastian has made a mess of his hands with them, setting Paloma tutting.

No one talks. They all pretend to focus on their food.

“Theo,” Connor says softly. “Are you okay?”

I flinch. Now everyone is looking at me again. This was a mistake. I should have hidden away in the cabin like Connor told me to.

“You know, I’m actually feeling a bit tired,” I say. “I think I’m going to turn in for the night. I’m sorry to bail.”

“It’s quite all right,” Rose assures me, and Alexis and Paloma murmur agreement.

“I’ll come with you,” Connor says. I almost let him. But then I smile, shake my head.

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