Page 82 of Frost Like Night
“So much for being a benevolent ruler.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” But I’m already backing away. Mather turns to Dendera and his father, who no doubt have a few things to say about this development.
But I have other people to see, and I head for the area ofcamp where the Summerians, Yakimians, and Winterians have set up their tents.
Nessa sits by a small campfire, a book in her lap and a group of wide-eyed children around her. Behind her, Conall fits a new string in his bow. His attention catches on me first and he rolls to his feet as I near, but he isn’t able to say a word before Nessa leaps up too.
The children groan. “Finish the story!” one whines—Jesse’s oldest, Melania.
Nessa flaps her hands at them. “Later! Go help with chores now—some of the soldiers will be leaving on their own adventure soon, so we must do our part to help them!”
The look on Conall’s face as the children cheer and disperse is nothing short of disbelief. That his sister is someone capable of turning a march to battle into an adventure; that he was the one who raised the bubbly girl who bounds over to me, her smile sticking on her face as the children wave their good-byes.
“Meira!” Nessa says. “Someone said you were called into another meeting. Have more details been decided? When are we leaving?”
“Today,” I start, noting how her smile slowly hardens the farther away the children get.
Conall nods. “We can be packed within the hour.”
“No,” I tell Conall. “You two will stay here. You won’t come with us to the battle.”
Conall’s head tilts. He doesn’t say anything, but his expression is resistant.
I soften. “I appreciate all you have done for me. All you’ve lost.” Emotions break through, squeezing around my throat. “But I need you to protect those who stay behind. Because if I fail . . .” I falter. “If this war ends badly, I can’t think of anyone else I’d trust more to get those in this camp to safety.”
Conall’s jaw clenches, and after far too long, he looks down at me with narrow eyes. He’s angry, but he’s my soldier.
“All right,” comes Nessa’s soft agreement. I look at her, seeing an emotion I realize I expected. She’s fine with staying behind—because she’s found her place in this war.
I don’t say anything, just step forward and wrap my arms around her neck.
“I don’t want you to feel like you’re alone in this, though. Like I’m abandoning you,” she whispers into my shoulder.
A laugh bursts through the knot in my chest. “Youhavemade me realize I’m not alone. And it’s hardly abandonment if I tell you to stay.”
Nessa pulls back. She looks older suddenly, like pieces of the innocent girl she was in Abril’s work camp have splintered away over the past months. She takes Conall’s hand and beams up at him.
Watching them together, I remember being in the Abril camp, meeting Nessa, Garrigan, and Conall, three survivorsfar stronger than I could ever be. I remember Nessa loving me instantly, Garrigan treating me with wary concern, and Conall outright hating me. He was afraid I’d stoke Nessa’s hope too high and it would shatter her when Angra killed me.
I swallow the sorrow that almost makes me confess the future to them. How my death will come, and how I hope it doesn’t break Nessa like Conall feared it would.
But a look of confusion descends over Conall and Nessa’s faces.
Then I hear it again. The noise that cut off my confession.
Shouting.
23
Meira
“MY QUEEN!”
I squint at the rider who races up the road, and when he stops beside me, I blink dumbly.
“Trace?”
Both he and his horse look one swift gust away from collapsing in exhaustion. My eyes scramble behind him, looking for the rest of the Thaw or Henn—they should all be together, leading in the final group of refugees.
