Page 21 of Heart’s Rescue

Arryn

If I Say No?

This place used to be a barn, I think. There’s hay scattered around on top of the snow, along with a few feathers. I’d probably find the chickens too if I sifted through the snow a bit.

That thought makes me shiver and pull up closer to the fire. The pale man with the enormous sword left me in the only intact corner of this ruined building with strict instructions not to run off. Which was exactly what I planned to do, of course, once I was warm enough to move on my own.

I pull the hood of the man’s cloak tighter around my shoulders and lean over the little fire. I’m not shivering anymore, and I don’t feel so numb and slushy. But what I do feel is exhausted. I sigh and sink back on my haunches, watching my little fire from the depths of the man’s cloak, which is dark and soft and somehow even smells good, a sort of thick, rich, strong scent that makes me feel warm. Some ruthless part of my mind insists on noting that the man was probably right; I’d have died out there without his cloak. Without his help.

I snort. Some great hero I’m turning out to be. Princess Elanerill managed to fight her way out of the Lands Below, or so the story goes, although they captured her heart as she crossed the barrier.

But me? I staggered through the snow for less than an hour before getting captured. Captured, disarmed, and dumped in what used to be a barn.

I force myself to my feet. My fingers and toes feel like they’re burning, and I try to tell myself that’s probably a good thing. Holding the man’s cloak around my body as tightly as possible, I walk to the edge of the ruined structure to stare through the shattered support beams and sheets of falling ice into the forest.

It’s dead. I’d thought as much when I first arrived. Trees stretch out in all directions, tall pines like proud, gray sentries. All of them are dead.

And the barn— I can see bits of the roof scattered all the way to the treeline. What in the stars could have done this? It almost looks like the place exploded, but there are no scorch marks, no lingering scent of smoke.

Not that it matters. I drag my gaze back to the forest, to those dead trees bathed in pale, blue-green light drifting down from above. From what must be the top of the cave, although I can’t make anything out beyond the ice-shrouded tips of the trees.

“So,” I whisper to myself. “Where’s my beloved?”

The light goes out. Suddenly, as if in response to my question. I clamp a hand over my mouth to keep from making any stupid sounds. Slowly, my heart hammering jaggedly against my ribcage, I make my way back to the little fire I’d lit. I’d thought it would be hidden, out of the way, but now that there’s no more light in the world it might as well be a beacon fire.

I stretch my hands out toward the flames, then glance over my shoulder. A beacon fire might bring Prince Folwynn if he’s still here. I try to think of what he might have been wearing when he left the palace, how he might have stayed warm and avoided the wicked men of the Kingdom of the Fall, but I can’t picture it. I can’t picture any of it. I don’t think my beloved even knows how to dress himself, let alone how to kindle a fire. Why would he?

Something snaps in the darkness outside the barn, and I jump inside the man’s cloak. This fire is stupid. It’s going to be a beacon for all the wrong things. I stand and start kicking snow over the flames. They hiss as if in pain.

“I know,” I whisper to the dying embers. “I know.”

“You made a fire.”

I yelp and spin around. There’s the man, his pale hair and blue eyes just barely visible in the smoldering embers of my smothered fire. It would be ridiculous for me to try to deny the fire that’s right in front of both of us, so I just glare at him.

“That’s clever,” he says.

I continue to glare as I try to decide if he’s mocking me. Is he the type of man who would mock me before he killed me?

Yes, I think he is.

But he’s not making any move to kill me now. Maybe he’s waiting for the embers to fade entirely? Perhaps he can see in the dark; that would make sense, given his kingdom has been trapped down here for the stars only know how long. But why would he need to wait? My wrist still throbs where he’d grabbed me and twisted the dagger from my hand. Stars, he’d disarmed me so quickly that my old sparring instructor probably would have had me whipped.

“So,” the man says, “wanna go back to my place?”

“What?” I reply, surprise forcing the word from my lips.

The man groans. “That didn’t come out right. Look, I have somewhere for you.”

Silence. Ice hits the snow outside the ruined barn. The light from my fire flares briefly and then fades.

“It’s warm,” he adds, and there’s a tiny, pleading edge to his voice that might almost be endearing. If he wasn’t a monster in the land of monsters.

“Is it a prison?” I ask.

“It’s my house,” he answers.

I look down at the fading embers at my feet. “If I say no?”