As Jorge and Will left, I leaned back against the cooling furs and elbowed the unmoving pass beside me. It gave a short grunt and Fynn’s head poked out of the furs, looking quite disheveled. Clearly, he was not enjoying this part of our journey as he pushed himself into a sitting position and looked around.
“Are we there yet?” he asked.
I shook my head. “Just a rest stop. How are you doing?”
Fynn untangled his long hair by pulling his fingers through it. He shot me a miserable look. “I hate the cold.”
“Poor you,” I said sympathetically, removing my mittens. “Here, let me warm your hands.”
As his long, cold fingers folded into my palms, I felt the locket around my neck grow warmer as well. I looked up to meet Fynn’s steady gaze and saw sorrow in his eyes. It took me a moment to realize his expression was responding to what he read on my features. I turned my gaze away, lowering my eyes to our hands.
“Something is bothering you,” he stated.
The dream I had experienced flashed before my eyes again. The deserted village, the hunted people, and the sad lonely child. I wanted to tell Fynn about it, but was afraid to worry him needlessly. I shook my head and forced a smile, raising my eyes to his again.
“Nothing’s bothering me,” I lied.
“Leila,” Fynn said gently.
He extracted one of his hands from mine and cupped my cheek in his palm. I felt the tears well up in my eyes at his touch, and I was completely unsure why I should suddenly feel this way.
“I – I miss my world, I think,” I managed to stammer. “Homesick.”
Instantly the hand withdrew, ending his warm touch. He took his other hand from mine as well, hiding them both beneath the furs. I placed my own hands in my lap and dropped my gaze to them, wondering what I had said to offend Fynn.
“When,” I paused, swallowing hard. “When my brother died, I hated everything and everyone, especially myself. My parents didn’t make it any easier. It was like all along, Nathan was the key to keeping our family together. He was the special one.”
I raised my eyes to the pointed canvas ceiling of the sleigh, leaning my head back. I could sense Fynn listening intently to me as the tears started to slide down my cheeks.
“I just never thought I’d miss them.”
“Do you want to go home?” Fynn asked reluctantly, his voice barely a whisper.
My mind wandered to the vision Mattis had shown me. My parents together, united in their search to find me. If I came back, what then? I doubt we would return to being a happy family, like we had been when Nathan was alive. Would they stay together if I never returned, comforting each other the way the never did over my brother? I wiped the tears from my face and shook my head.
“I have a responsibility to this world now,” I said. “I gave my word to the White Lady.”
A strange half smile passed over Fynn’s lips, as if he were amused by what I had just said.
“You stay for your promise,” he remarked softly. “How noble.”
I nodded. “But not just my promise to her. There are other reasons I don’t want to leave – Damaeon, Cyrus, Will, Jakob, and you.”
He raised his eyes and met mine, his smile genuine this time. Reaching over, he took my hand in his again. I relished his warm touch.
“But something is still troubling you,” he said.
I sighed, and Fynn squeezed my hand encouragingly. I pushed aside the furs that had been covering me, wondering if I should tell Fynn the truth.
“I had a strange dream while we were traveling,” I said, pulling at the collar of my warm parka. “It’s probably nothing. Is it getting hotter in here?”
Fynn sat up straight and nodded. “You’re right. It is very warm.”
I stretched out with my senses, calling to any nearby spirits. I hoped to be able to discover what dangers were waiting outside for us that would cause so much heat in such a cold place. I gasped when I immediately found fire spirits, not the one or two that would materialize with a campfire, but dozens flying freely around.
“Fynn,” I said nervously, “we better get out of here.”
Fynn reached out with one hand and tore open the covering that protected us from the harsh northern elements. He fell back next to me as a ring of flames surrounded us. The entire sleigh was on fire, the spirits flying merrily about and singing in delight. I shrank against Fynn, terrified by what I saw. How had this happened, and where were Will and Jorge?
Through the flames, I saw the answer to my questions. Jorge stood a few feet back, staring at the sleigh and holding a burning torch in one hand and a shovel in the other. Horrified, I looked behind him and saw Will lying face down, the snow dyed red by his blood. He had been unable to warn us, unable to call for help, and Jorge knew it.
“Will!” I screamed, moving forward.
The flames leapt higher as Fynn pulled me back. I could not take my eyes from my friend’s still form. I had promised to keep him safe. He had trusted me.
“Leila,” Fynn was saying, shaking my shoulders gently to get my attention. “Calm yourself. The spirits are feeding off your emotions.”
“Will,” I sobbed.
“Getting burned alive won’t help him,” Fynn soothed. “Calm yourself. Command the spirits.”
I took a deep breath, knowing Fynn was right, and tried to steady myself. I called out to the wild spirits, bending them to my will. Reluctantly, they did as I bid them, clearing a path for Fynn and I to pass through before closing up behind them and returning to their feast. Although the flames were behind me, there was fire in my eyes as I moved forward to face Jorge.
He stood waiting, the shovel stained with Will’s blood held loosely in his hand, the torch in the other. He smiled cruelly at me and gave me a mock bow as I stood a few steps in front of him. I could feel Fynn right behind me, although his soothing presence did little to subdue my anger.
“My lady,” he sneered. “It is too soon for you to come out. Please, return to the sleigh.”
I extinguished the torch in his hand with a look, and he dropped it in surprise. He recovered his composure quickly, and the smile returned to his face.
“My Queen sends her greetings and regrets you could not live to see her conquer your precious Dyrel,” he laughed sharply.
The flames behind me rose in response to my sudden rage. I felt all the spirits stirring within me, eager to fulfill my heart’s desire. Slowly, I began to raise my hand to point out the target of my wrath. Fynn caught my wrist and held it tightly.
“Don’t,” he said simply.
Cireno’s face appeared before me, and my ears were suddenly filled with the cries of the soldiers I had murdered it the desert. Mostly, I remembered Clothis, and the expression of horror she had when I had given myself to the spirits to save her prince. I dropped my hand, and Fynn stepped past me to face Jorge unarmed.
As Jorge lunged forward, swinging the shovel towards Fynn, I dashed over to where Will lay. I could hear the fight behind me, as well as the roar of the flames, and I spared a moment to calm the fire spirits again. I could do nothing to save the sleigh or our provisions, but at least the blaze was under control.
Will lay motionless and unresisting as I turned him over and wiped the snow from his face. His skin was cold and pale, except for the ugly red gash on his temple where Jorge had struck him. I had expected the wound to be on the back of his head, and my admiration for his bravery soared as I realized Will had faced his attacker head on.
“If I have strength for nothing else, let me do this,” I whispered.
I took a deep breath, calling for the light spirits who had helped me before. My hands glowed with their serene light as I lay one on Will’s forehead, and the other on his chest. I could feel his heart fluttering like a bird beneath my palm as I closed my eyes and concentrated on his flickering life. Everything around me began to fade, and eventually vanished as I focused on Will. I could no longer feel the cold wind, or hear the battle between Jorge and Fynn. I became so absorbed in my task that when the attack came, I was completely unprepared.
Startled and reeling with pain, I fell to one side, my eyes snapping open and my hand going to the part of my head where I had been struck. As I tried to pull myself into a sitting position and figure out what was happening, I was kicked soundly in the stomach, causing me to double over in pain. Wincing and peering through the tears in my eyes, I saw Jorge standing over me.
“None left to save you now, my lady,” he sneered, kicking me again.
I gasped as the new explosion of pain burst in my side, but managed to raise my head enough to look for Fynn. The sleigh continued to burn, but I could not see Fynn anywhere. I tried to move away from my assailant, stumbling painfully through the snow towards the sleigh. I thought if I lured him away from Will, closer to the spirits, I could somehow defeat him where my friends had failed. I only fell forward a short distance before I was struck again. I fell face first into the snow, dazed.
“Queen Samara sends her regards,” Jorge told me, flipping my aching body over with the toe of his boot and pulling a knife from his belt.
I stared in shock, too hurt by his blows and words to focus on the spirits. Jorge held the weapon high, laughing at my fear. I thought of Fynn and Will, trapped out here in the frozen north and dying, because of me. I thought of Damaeon and Cyrus and the ruins of Oponoe, the city I had been unable to protect. I pictured Jakob, first as the sentry outside Ellena’s tent so long ago, and then as the warrior who fought his own people for the sake of friendship. I thought of my parents, searching for me in a world I would never again inhabit, and finally I thought of Nathan and Clothis, and how I would be joining them soon. All these thoughts and face flashed before my eyes in moments as I stared at my murderer.
The final thrust I waited for did not come. Jorge stood over me, and I made no move against him. The knife plunged downwards, and I wondered if perhaps I was already dead and I had somehow missed my own demise. Jorge was laughing, and his laughter abruptly stopped as the knife halted its plunge and fell from his finger. His eyes glazed over and he toppled sideways, landing almost next to me. I took a deep breath and raised my eyes.
Will was now standing over me holding the shovel Jorge had discarded, now dripping with fresh blood. He was breathing heavily, his face pale and caked with ice and blood. His eyes met mine and a smile crossed his blue lips before his eyes rolled into his head and he fell. I struggled into a sitting position, wincing at the pain in my ribs and head, and crawled over to him, cradling his cold body in my arms.
Glancing around the campsite that had become a battlefield, I saw the burning sleigh and Fynn lying not far from it. Crying out in pain, I managed to drag Will over to Fynn, tears freezing on my cheeks and every muscle in my body screaming in protest. I felt completely drained as I held my two friends close, sobbing in the bitter cold. I was alone, without anyone to protect me or tell me what I should do.