Page 60 of Frost and Death
Jerrick studies me in silence, rolling his eyes in exasperation and stepping around to examine my injury. He mutters “Dammit,” and I turn to him in question, the movement pinching down my neck.
“You’ve lost a lot of blood. And because of that, I cannot—nor do I want to—remove the arrow, or you’ll surely bleed out. We need to keep going if you want to live.” Grabbing me, Jerrick adds, “This is going to hurt like Oblivion for you.”
I attempt to shake from his hold, but he leans in, whispering softly, “I’ve got you.”
An odd comfort from the tenderness behind his words reminds me of the charm and compassion I’d seen from him before today’s catastrophe. Putting aside our differences, I tell myself to live now, fight tomorrow.
If you can even make it that long, Tove.
Knowing I am out of options, I exhale one long breath, fitting Mother’s mirror back in my pocket before placing my hand in my captor’s and bracing for the pain.
He shifts his weight to stand, allowing me something to hold on to.
I fight through the dizziness and the yelp of agony from the movement of my joints.
Expelling the air from my lungs, I push forward as my hold tightens on Jerrick. I make it to my knees, and my head rocks, fighting the vertigo threatening to steal me under. I let my body play catch-up.
Jerrick holds my hand, waiting patiently. It is thoughtful and makes despising him harder. He gives me a signal to move again, and I respond in tune, rising fully upright.
Heaviness begs to take me down, but Jerrick reaches around me carefully, holding me close and allowing me support as he guides me to the side of the horse.
Black dots mesh with the lightly frozen forest in front of the beast. I focus on blinking the darkness away as I clutch Jerrick, hating the need for his assistance.
I bite my lip as we approach the horse, my lack of experience with animals making me wary, along with trying to figure out how to even mount the steed.
“You’ll be riding sidesaddle in the front,” Jerrick says, already ahead of my train of thought.
My mouth falls.
Being this is the second time I have ridden a horse in my life, I do not have any desire to ride sidesaddle. Why couldn’t I have been kidnapped in a cushiony carriage?
“I-I can’t—”
“It is the only way for the arrow not to be jostled during transit.”
I dart back and forth between the reins and the saddle, fear turning my palms sweaty.
“You’ll have me to lean against for support,” he says with a taunting smirk.
That is not comforting. But my own cowardice must be shining because Jerrick helps my leg into the stirrup, leaving me hanging in an awkward position as he turns to smother the fire, jogging back and mounting the steed with ease.
He pulls me up faster than I anticipated, my muscles stretching and my arm almost dislodging.
“I don’t need to lose another limb!” I scold.
He laughs and eases me back against him. “There, there, Frostbite.”
I bristle at the nickname, seething. “Stop. Calling. Me. That.”
Jerrick’s lips tick upward as I awkwardly wrap my left arm around him, abhorring myself for leaning into my enemy for support.
12
The Void
The front of the saddle rubs against my right hip, causing me to wiggle and lean into Jerrick. In my pain and out of a need for comfort in what could be my last moments, I pretend that I am here by choice and Jerrick is someone I could trust.
His body is muscular and wide enough to circle me in, providing me warmth as the side of my head rests on his chest, hiding my winces through our passage into Biala Forest and closer to Palaena’s border.
