Page 75 of Grave Situation

It’sonly midmorning when fate—or the gods—decides to fuck with us again, and big, wet flakes of snow begin to fall from the gloomy skies.

“Are you joking?” I ask nobody in particular. “Not even twelve hours after the last catastrophe?” I huddle into my heavy traveling cloak. I’ve never had to test how waterproof it is, though when Tia gave it to me two years ago, she assured me it could hold up to all kinds of weather. I laughed and told her I didn’t go out in weather that needed to be held up against.

In retrospect, that might have been asking for trouble.

“This is hardly a catastrophe,” Jaimin says dryly beside me. “It’s only snow.”

I frown darkly. “I bet you’re one of those people who likes to play in the snow.”

His laugh is warm and reassuring, despite the vagaries of the weather and the fact that the temples are now officially out to get us. “Who doesn’t like to play in the snow?”

“Ilovesnow,” Coryn chimes in enthusiastically from behind us. He insisted on bringing up the rear, saying he’d be able to see what was coming ahead of us, but he didn’t have eyes in the back of his head, so it was better that he be at the back. I didn’t argue—I don’t know whether that’s sensible or not, but it’s not like I know any better. “Maybe if it snows enough, we can build snow people when we stop for the night!”

My eyes widen. “We arenotcamping in the snow,” I declare vehemently. “No way.”

“Probably not tonight,” Jaimin agrees, “but at some stage, we might have to. Are you ready to ask me to heal your foot yet?”

I look away, a little guilty. After what he told me about injuries being discordant for him, I probably should have asked already. I don’t want to make him uncomfortable. But I also didn’t want to bring it up. For one thing, it’s not that bad, and he’s not my personal healer. And also, I didn’t want to have to explain how I injured it. He wouldn’t understand that Sweetie made her displeasure clear over leaving a warm stable before dawn… by stepping on my foot. She’s only vicious when he’s not around.

“Ah… if it’s not too much trouble?”

With a rueful huff, he leans over in the saddle and slides his fingers under the cuff of my coat, finding bare flesh. It’s an innocent touch, and yet I have to quell the urge to shiver at the intimacy of it. A moment later, the throbbing pain eases, and he straightens, smiling at me.

“Better?”

“Much.” I return the smile with a sheepish one of my own. “Thank you.”

“Did you drop something on your foot?”

Sweetie snorts and tosses her head, proving—to me—that she understands every word we say, and I mumble, “Something like that.” The last thing I need right now is for my horse to be out for blood.

“Any directions from the stone?”

Other than telling us to go south, the cursed rock has been bizarrely silent since its introduction to Coryn last night, to thepoint that an hour ago I was concerned enough to demand it reply to meor else. To which I got a mental raspberry. It’s so heartening to know that such a mature sentience was responsible for the creation of all life.

“Nothing but stay on the road south-west,” I gripe. “At least the farther south we go, the less likely we are to get this stupid snow. Hopefully our next stop is Camblin. The southernmost part.” Winter down there is positively mild.

The smugness suddenly radiating from the stone is a sign I shouldn’t get my hopes up. Jaimin must sense it too, because he winces.

Fuck my life.

A week passes,and the snow turns to slush—which makes the road positively delightful to travel on. On the eighth day of unrelenting travel south-west, I’m beginning to wonder if the stone’s doing this just to torment me. Why couldn’t we have boarded a ship at Lenledia? We crossed the border into Camblin yesterday, and we’re nearly to Josanin now, and that’s only a half-day journey by boat, even allowing for the time needed to get downriver to the coast. If the stone doesn’t stop us in one of the minor villages between here and Josanin, I’m going to be very unhappy.

Well…, unhappier than I already am.

We stop for lunch along the side of the road. It’s too wet and muddy to go far, but we get off the road anyway, in case some idiot mistreating their horse is traveling faster than wise in this muck. Leicht lands in the adjacent field, which is empty at this time of year. Hopefully we’ll be on our way without the farmer realizing we’re here.

“Where’s the next village, again?” I ask, trying to stop my teeth from chattering as I take my share of the currant buns we bought before leaving the inn this morning. So far, I haven’t had to camp in the snow. I’m hoping that will continue. Camping’s bad enough as it is.

“Too close to stop for the day,” Tia advises. “Maybe the one after that… or the one after.”

“I hate you.”

“He doesn’t really,” Coryn assures her solemnly. “He loves you. He’s just grumpy because he’s cold and wet. That’s why he’s been snappy today.”

A sliver of guilt worms through me. Ididsnap at Coryn earlier, and even though I apologized, I still feel bad about it.

“I’ll try to snap less,” I promise, and Tia and Jaimin laugh.

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