Page 59 of A Bride for the Winter King
“We’re not going anywhere anytime soon, Sixteen.”
The trees’ branches are heavy with snow. Silvery patterns glimmer over the white powdery blanket covering the clearing, and the forest is quiet. Calm. A cold immensity that slows down the very beats of my heart and allows me to hold the panic at bay.
A rustling sound from the juniper closest to me sparks a fresh trail of goosebumps along my neck, and Daisy draws a sharp intake of breath. “What wasthat?”
“Shush.” I canvas the area for signs of life.
The foliage moves. The overlapping scales of the juniper are arranged in whorls along the branches, giving the tree a dense, feathery appearance, and I spot a white animal hiding inside.
Tiny black eyes meet mine, but it’s the shape of the weasel’s mouth that really gets my blood going. Instead of a run-of-the-mill carnivorous snow weasel, the creature has a long, tubular mouth that extends in my direction. A circle of tiny teeth shaped like a leech’s sucker adorn the extremity.
It emits a small, high-pitched noise, and a chorus of answering calls echoes through the vegetation.
“Tell me what’s going on,” Daisy says on a rushed breath.
Never looking away from the creature, I point at the eyeball camera. “When I saygo, you’ll throw a snowball directly into that eye.”
She frowns at my demand. “Why?”
“Would you rather find out what these weasels intend to do to us with their mouths? Because I’m sure neither of us would enjoy sharing a smooch.”
Arms shaking, Daisy fashions a snowball with her free hand.
“Go!”
Right as her projectile hits the lens, I summon a shadow dagger to cut off my bindings and free my hands, immediately letting it fade again, just like I did during the kissing contest when I cut the scarf shackling Elio.
The memory brings acid to my mouth as I untangle myself from the leather straps and stand. I’m still unsure what possessed me to do such a thing, but if I’m honest, I can’t bring myself to regret it.
The eyeball camera blinks a few times to clear its lens before it settles down again, hovering a little closer to us. Half a dozen weasels scurry along the lower branches and exchange a few warning cries before turning their eyes to Daisy, slowly creeping closer and closer to her.
I raise a brow at my tied-up comrade. “Can I trust you?”
“No, but I won’t stab you in the back with an icicle. That I can promise.” Her throat bobs, her wide eyes scanning the clearing like she can’t quite believe what just happened. “Those bitches left us here to die. I want to beat them, and I’m not stupid enough to think I can find my way through this forest without you.”
Daisy stands barefoot, ankle-deep in the snow, her feet and legs reddened by the cold. I've never seen her look so small. The silk dress meant to protect her from the cold has a small, uneven tear at the hem. It’s clear that it wasn’t deliberately made by one of the girls. Without the magical garment’s protection, she’ll freeze to death before we even have a chance to find our way to the Ice City.
“How bad is it? Can you fix it?” I ask.
Over the last few days, I’ve watched the Spring seeds fix small imperfections in their dresses, hair, and makeup. “Yes, it’s something we can all do, and you would know that if you were truly a Spring seed. But I’ll need both hands.”
I untie her bindings, and her keen blue eyes never leave mine as she measures my reaction. The camera emits a series of electronic sounds and glides closer, probably desperate to pick up our quiet conversation.
“I knewIcould fix it. I just wasn’t sureyoucould,” I add with a wry smile.
Daisy covers the tear in her dress with both hands and mends it with her magic. Her long blonde hair drapes over her shoulder as she squints at me. “Nice recovery, Sixteen, but I don’t believeyou. No offense, but a Spring seed would never”—she gestures to me up and down with her palm face up—“endurethis.”
I roll my eyes, her fishing expedition into my true identity falling flat. She wants to goad me into revealing more than I have to, and I won’t give her the satisfaction.
The weasels move like eels through the snow, creeping closer and closer to us. We hurry to the podium in the center of the meadow, away from our white-furred visitors and peer through the glass cloche. A red and green apple, a mirror, and a crown of thorns are tucked inside.
“What’s all this for? The other girls were whispering about it before you woke up.” Daisy curls her hand over the round knob located at the top of the cloche.
I rush to stop her, covering the entire dome with my hand and preventing her from lifting it. “Don’t!”
She eyes me sideways. “Why?”
“I’ve read about this. In a fairytale.”
