Page 13 of Of Rime and Ruin
I’m a silly little princess. Not a hunter. Not a warrior. I should be home in a plush bed, a guard at my door. Snacks at the ready on a silver tray. Or strapped in the saddle where it’s safe.
My stomach growls. I really didn’t think this through.
A swarm of sweetfish darts from my path, terror white in their eyes.
“Sorry, sorry,” I mutter.
They thrash their tails and flutter out of my depth of vision.
Weariness weighs like an anchor. I can’t maintain this pace; I can’t sleep, either. Not with those eyes on me.
But the expanse stretches on, and my vision grows heavy. My heart slows.
I let my body become like reedgrass, flowing where the currents take me.
And I drift.
For days. Weeks, maybe. I’ve lost track of the pattern of the sky.
I sleep with one eye open.
I snatch fish to calm my hunger, consuming their flesh with murmured apologies.
The sea gradually cools and the sun pales. My muscles wake to the chill, and I shiver. I’ve drifted into northern waters, that much is clear, but I don’t know how far I’ve come.
The water parts around my face as I break the surface. Night air greets me with a chilling kiss. Across a starlit sky, bright streaks of light ripple like glittering scales set aflame. Mountains crest the sea in the distance, mammoth white caps jutting above the waves. The skylights play on the snow.
I spit the water from my mouth, letting it drop into the waves.
A chill crawls over my wet scalp, and not just from the air. I tilt back, lifting my tail to float. The waves hold me, and I watch the lights with joy in my heart. Have I ever seen anything so beautiful?
I want nothing more than to be closer to them. I reach my hand high, as if I might grasp their ribbons between my fingers and draw from their power.
Forget south. If there’s a place for me among these mountains, I’d gladly spend eternity beneath this tetra-colored sky.
But it’s not close enough. So I roll over and thread the waves, leaping in slow arcs toward the mountains.
I catch the scent of glosswhales and call them with a low whistle. They rise to the surface, flanking me.
One catches my gaze, its curious eye bright with mischief. I reach for it with my magic, singing a connection spell.
Race me?
Pleasure colors its mind. Its tail kicks hard, and it lurches forward.
I brighten at the chase.
The mountains draw closer. Under the waves, they’re formidable, sloping beneath my line of sight. When we near the rock face, the glosswhale turns, pod in tow. We swim parallel to the rock, gaining speed.
The glosswhales chirp and chatter. I join in quiet song, harmonizing with their chaotic melody.
Is this what my life could be?
Unfettered by political posturing? Just me and the waves and the creatures of the sea.
Ahead, a narrow channel splits the mountains, lined with iron spikes. Ice floes bob, their dark shadows teetering above me.
The glosswhales adjust their aim, slipping between the gap in the rocks.
