Page 62 of A Bride for the Winter King
“Not monsters. People,” I correct her, slowly coming to terms with the truth myself. The men’s helmets are mounted with intimidating horns, but it’s a uniform. Human hands tie up the girls’ wrists and pack them in the front of their sleighs like luggage.
A bit of color returns to Daisy’s cheeks as we both retreat from the ledge and back onto the trail. “Are we supposed to walk around them? What kind of challenge is this? Even the Reds were powerless against them.”
“I don’t think they’re part of the challenge.” The bite of power rolling off of them is odd, and what would be the point?
“I’m no good at throwing roses, Sixteen. So unless you want me to seduce them into letting us pass?—”
“Look there. Another camera,” a man shouts over the wind, pointing to the eyeball hovering above our heads. His voice is powerful and slightly accented, close to a Celtic accent, but I can’t place the exact provenance.
The sleighs glide swiftly toward us, and I press Daisy against the rock cliff behind us. Her mouth hangs open in a silent gasp as I cloak us both in shadows. The ice wolves race past, their drivers clad in thick leather gear and gray scarves.
One of them shoots an arrow at the camera, and it falls to the ground in front of our feet with atok.
“I’ll get the Spring seeds and meet you back at the mine,” the archer says, then separates from the group, heading toward the challenge’s starting point.
The others quickly steer their beasts up the mountain. Up close, the massive wolves stir a deep unease in the pit of my stomach.
Daisy’s eyes widen, her ire melting in favor of muted fear. “You’re aspider?” she whispers like the word is blasphemy.
“Yep.” It’s useless to deny it now, and I summon my shadow blades to life. “We should follow them.”
“Why? The Ice City is all the way down there.”
I squint at the nefarious storm sticking to the top of the tallest peak. Something’s not right, and my blood races. “Elio’s up there.”
Daisy braces her hands on her hips. “And how would you know that?”
Blood floods my cheeks, but my voice cracks with fear as I say, “I can feel him.”
Chapter 25
Immigrant Song
ELIO
Our ascent is quick and easy until the main trail ventures into dragon territory. Dragons and wolves don’t mix, and their presence is likely to spook Mistress, so we leave one man with the sleighs and continue on foot. The animals were overdue for a well-deserved rest anyway.
The ice storms that drove the miners away and blocked access to the mines have scattered murky clouds over the top of Bluenest Ridge—and only Bluenest Ridge.
“It’s been here for weeks, and it hasn’t moved or dissipated in days, not since we sent the first platoon to investigate,” Kiro says.
“You were right. It’s not a natural storm.” This isn’t an outbreak of dragon pox or a conflict between mountain gnolls. “Whoever summoned this storm here did so at great personal cost.”
The closer we get, the air thickens with humidity, and the sudden rise in temperature sends a shiver of warning up my spine. Altitude isn’t supposed to be associated with warmer weather.
We finally reach the edge of the phenomenon, and I raise a hand to the clear-cut blizzard. Everything beyond the veil of sleet is heavily obscured.
I kneel down to touch the snow, extending my powers to the rock bed below it and the sacred glacier underneath. The answering shiver quakes my entire body as I draw a series of runes over the ice with my powers, trying to discern the source of the magic. “By my estimation, the storm is no more than two miles wide, and though it’s been made to look harmless and natural from a distance, the core of it is perfectly circular, radiating outward from the entrance of the mine.” I give my soldiers a serious nod. “Spread out and keep a cool head.”
The reapers stand a little taller, and we all summon our ice blades to life. I canvas the cliffs for snipers or sentries but find nothing out of the ordinary.
Magic crackles in the air as I lead the way into the sphere of clouds and ice. The inclement weather immediately in front and behind me melts into a thin mist. A soundless alarm sends vibrations through the ether, stretching like a spiderweb before breaking as I advance.
“Whoever crafted this storm made sure to be notified if someone prodded at it.” I quicken my pace and exchange a knowing glance with my lieutenant. “They know we’re here.”
The sleet stops abruptly half a mile in, leaving the center untouched and merely cloudy. The snow beneath my feet becomes denser due to the warmer temperature, and the sound of our footsteps shifts from a softswishto a steadycrunch.
I remove my hood and squint at a rock cliff in the distance.
