Page 46 of Ties of Frost

Eighteen

Kyrundar

When we stopped to eat, I checked on Zidra’s arm despite her feeble protests. Thankfully, she had kept her dragon fire reined in while slaying the void wolf. Still, I didn’t like the blue tint to the skin surrounding the puncture. Having any amount of ice magic embedded in her body for so long was dangerous. Silently, I prayed that we would not encounter any more people in need of help. Zidra would cut her arm off before she refused aid to anyone—although if it came to that, I’d encase her in ice and carry her away no matter how much she hated me for it.

That night we reached a small town with a Haven, if the austere single-room cottage with three mats on the floor could be called a Haven. But it was warm and dry and better than the ground, and we had the place to ourselves.

Zidra kept tossing and turning on her mat. Absently, I reached for the heartbond. Once again, I met a wall, as if she were trying to lock away whatever was troubling her. The barrier felt weaker. Maybe if I’d pushed I could have broken through, but I didn’t know if she might sense that, and I didn’t want to intrude. So instead, I focused on sending soothing, caring sensations her way. Soon she stilled. Her breathing deepened to sleep, and I quickly followed.

By some miracle, I woke before Zidra. Sunlight from the one dingy window fell over her mat, and she’d rolled over to put her back to the light, which put her face toward me. She looked younger while asleep, maybe because the prickly defensiveness and iron self-sufficiency she usually wore had fallen away. Her dark eyelashes nearly brushed her high cheekbones. I had the urge to run my fingertip over the gentle bow of her pink lips, bury my hands in her curls, and kiss the slope of her neck.

I turned away and got dressed with my back to Zidra, then went to the outhouse. I wasn’t gone long, but when I returned, she was dressed and rearranging her pack. The door groaned as I closed it behind me. She glanced over, and her cheeks reddened before she bent over her pack, her curls hiding her face.

I looked down at myself but couldn’t find any reason for that reaction. Unless perhaps she was angry with me? Ah, of course. I’d disappeared without saying anything, the exact thing I had berated her for doing.

“Sorry,” I said. “I was around back—”

“I know. Did you eat yet?”

I shook my head. I wasn’t looking forward to more travel rations.

“We should stop by the bakery on our way out,” Zidra said. “Save the preserved foods for the road. Maybe they have those iced cinnamon buns you love.”

I stared at her as she tied off her pack and stood. “You remember my favorite pastry?” Then I grinned. “And I thought you didn’t care.”

She waved her hand. “You’re incredibly vocal about how much you love them. Everyone who has met you probably knows you love cinnamon buns.”

Still grinning, I strode past her to my own pack and set about shoving items into it. “Well, maybe the bakery will also have those flaky, buttery apple turnovers you love so much.”

Zidra was quiet. When I turned toward her, she was watching me with a curious expression.

“What? You’re allowed to make note of my favorite, but I’m not allowed to notice that’s what you always pick if they’re available?”

“I never thought you were paying attention. To anything other than yourself, really.”

I clamped down on my tongue, holding back my affronted argument.Maybe Iskyr allowed this heartbond simply to teach me some awareness I didn’t even know I was lacking. The thought brought a sardonic smile to my lips, which I quickly morphed into a teasing smirk. “I pay attention to a great many things, but to you most of all.”

Her eyes narrowed.

So I rose to the challenge. Abandoning my pack, I took a step closer and counted on my fingers. “You prefer the bottom cot of stacked beds. You don’t like mushrooms and always leave them on your plate if you can get away with it without causing insult. You prefer red meat to white meat. You have the sharpest senses of any shifter I know, and sometimes your senses overwhelm you and give you a headache, especially in crowded spaces. If you were to buy yourself a gown, you’d get one in dark red, because you think you look good in it. You—”

“How do you know that?” she demanded.

More than once, I had watched her linger over dark-red fabric or choose dark red when she purchased a scarf. One time I’d caught her holding a dark-red cloak over her armor and admiring her reflection in a tiny mirror before reluctantly putting it back. She hadn’t realized I was there.

“Like I said. I pay attention.” I set about dealing with the bedding I’d used, and Zidra did likewise with her cot. That taken care of, I strapped on my swords, then fastened my pack and looped it over my shoulders. “Ready to go?”

After we bought cinnamon buns and flaky apple turnovers for breakfast, we continued on our way. The sound of whooshing air made conversation difficult, but we still spoke occasionally. To my surprise, Zidra usually initiated, making some observation on the landscape or recalling a story from Harcos. It was the most pleasant day of travel we’d had so far.

As we traveled north, settlements became smaller andless frequent, and trees thinned from thick forests to copses tucked amid rolling hills of grasslands and cereal fields. When night fell and we made camp in a glen, the sound of bleating sheep carried faintly on the breeze.

This time, I didn’t bother making the snow shelter large enough for both of us. I’d learned my lesson. Still, when Zidra said “good night” as I bent to enter my shelter, I considered asking if she was sure she didn’t want to share. Not wanting to lose the more friendly interactions we’d achieved today, I instead wished her good night and went inside.

Without consciously thinking about it, I reached for the heartbond as I lay down. Zidra felt restless, but there was much less resistance. Perhaps she had worked through whatever emotions she’d been trying to bury. I recited a prayer of protection and rest over us both and let myself fall into sleep, holding the heartbond like a child might hold a stuffed bear toy.

Something jerked me back to consciousness.

I had no idea how long I had slept, but a panicked energy coursed through me. I opened my eyes to blackness and rolled over, reaching blindly for my swords. The moment my fingers brushed a leather sheath, I seized the weapons.

---