Page 56 of Heart’s Rescue

Rowan

I Won’t Let You Fall

It takes us most of the day to reach the river, which is not a good thing given our dwindling food supplies. Arryn doesn’t complain, not even when our lunch turns out to be two survival biscuits that would’ve verged on inedible even if they hadn’t been frozen solid. I don’t like it, her silence. Her stoicism. It makes it even harder to think about what’s happening to her arm, what could happen to all of her, because of me. Because I thought she’d be safe with me up a stupid tree, even though I knew there was a void beast following us.

I stop, close my eyes, and tug on my magic again, even though I’ve been harassing it constantly since I jolted awake in the middle of the night and saw the empty bedroll. Nothing. There’s nothing around us now, no void beasts, no other travelers. Just snow and ice and general misery as far as my magic can stretch.

My eyes crack open, and I see Arryn watching the frozen river the way you’d watch a cornered wild animal. Her lips are pressed together into a thin, hard line and she’s got a little divot between her eyebrows that makes me think she doesn’t like being told no. When she exhales, her breath comes out in a white puff of steam.

“So,” she asks, her eyes still set on the ice as though the frozen river were a puzzle she could solve through sheer force of will. “How are we going to do this?”

I rock back on my heels and run my mittened hand over my lips. My pack is stupidly heavy; the straps have left my shoulders raw, every muscle in my back aches, and I’m so, so tired. I glance at Arryn. She’s looking at me like she’s expecting an answer. Or like she’s hoping for an answer.

Shit. I know what I’d do if it were just me, what I’ve done every single time I’ve ever crossed this river. I’d use my magic. But I’ve never done that with another person. I’ve never touched anyone with those ink-black tendrils, aside from Phaedron, and he’d been unconscious. Well, Phaedron and Arryn’s prince. And I’d made him suffer.

Arryn’s still staring at the river, moving her eyes across the ice like she’s trying to read it.

“How can you tell which parts are solid?” she asks.

Voids below. I don’t ever want to set foot on ice again after what happened last time, and I wasn’t even the first to fall through. Arryn almost died, and here she is, ready to do it again.

Damn it, I like this woman. I like her a lot more than I should.

I huff out a hot cloud of breath as if I could expel that particular thought and all the complicated baggage it entails.

“Look,” I say. “There’s… another way.”

Arryn turns to me, her dark eyes wide. There’s something in her expression that’s almost painful to see, something hopeful and trusting.

“Uh, you remember my magic?” I ask, like a complete idiot.

Does she remember seeing the very ground ripped apart? Trees toppling all around her? Blue flames leaping out of my eyes? You know, the things that will probably haunt her nightmares for the rest of her life?

Arryn nods. She doesn’t run screaming, which is probably a good first step.

“I usually cross the river… that way,” I say.

My voice pinches at the end as I realize I’m basically admitting that I fucked up, that she didn’t have to fall through thin ice, that we lost half of our supplies and she almost died because I’m an idiot.

Arryn looks from me to the river.

“Okay,” she says. “How does it work?”

I swallow hard. I want to say I don’t know, that I’ve never tried this before, that my magic has only ever been used to destroy or to pull my brother back from death’s sitting room.

“Uh, yeah,” I stammer because I’m an idiot. “I think we should stand close together. If you don’t mind.”

Arryn nods again, then turns. Ice crunches beneath her boots, and suddenly she’s close. Very close. Her brown eyes stare up at me, and her soft floral scent weaves its way through the frozen air. Her body is almost touching—

And then she is touching me. Her arms wrap around my waist, her hips brush mine, and her breath is warm against my cheek and chin. For a moment my mind completely unravels as panic slams through my body, screaming like every warning bell in the kingdom tolling all at once. Arryn turns and nuzzles her face into my cloak.

“Okay,” she says. “Do your thing.”

I blink. My thing. Right. My arms creep around Arryn’s shoulders before my mind can formulate a coherent argument as to why I should not be hugging this woman. I take a deep breath, Arryn’s soft floral scent mingling with the wet fur of our robes and the cold, clear sting of the frozen river, and I realize my mind might lose this argument entirely. Because this is my thing, this right here, embracing Arryn while all the rings and voids spin on without us.

Arryn makes a sound that’s almost a sigh, and some part of me snaps back into reality. She’s not hugging me because she likes me, damn it. She’s holding me because I’m about to carry her across the river that almost killed her. Using magic that could easily kill her. She’s not into me, or anything absurd like that. She’s probably terrified.

“Okay,” I say.