Winter, White and Wicked - Shannon Dittemore Page 0,115
hands are in his pockets. He’s shoved them there so he doesn’t reach out for me, shoved them there so he doesn’t pull me into his chest. He’s ashamed of something. Afraid of what I’ll do when I find out.
I blink up at him, our shared emotions punching me in the gut, turning my arms and legs weak. I reach for him and he does the same, stepping forward, pulling a hand from the pocket of his coat.
“Snowflake,” he says.
But Mars’s medicine bag is around his neck. I snatch it and push my way past him and the Dragon both, my boots hard on the rough road as I make my way to the back of the trailer. I tear the leather bag open. Phials of twyl liniment and kol spill out onto the ground. But the key is in my hand now. I jam it into the lock and turn.
Somewhere behind me Lenore’s saying, “You let her pull this trailer all the way from Whistletop? What were you thinking?”
“Miss Quine—”
“Sylvi, please,” Kyn says. “Let me explain.”
But I’m not letting anyone do anything. I jump onto the bumper and grab the handle on the roll-up door. Kyn reaches out and I offer him a single glance that has him tucking his hands back into his pockets. I yank the metal handle and the door trundles up and away.
And then I drop to the ground, collapsing on the cobbles.
The only thing in Mars’s trailer is a whispered I TOLD YOU SO.
She did too. Winter told me Mars was a liar. She told me not to trust him.
“There never was a haul,” I say, my body so heavy I could sink through the stone. “No kol or twyl or Paradyian weapons. Nothing to help the rebel cause.”
“That’s not true, Miss Quine.” Mars is on his knees now, his black eyes glossy, his blistered lips trembling. “You were the haul. You’re the weapon we all need.”
CHAPTER 31
The Desolation is a short walk from camp, but it feels like another world altogether. There’s a wooden fence here, marking the edge of the frozen pool. The rebels’ attempt at respect, I suppose. I’ve been leaning against it for hours now, watching as night turns to day. Feeling Winter’s glee at my disappointment, ignoring her as best I can.
Rain is coming again, its perfume thick and heavy, when a small rig pulls up to the fence and parks.
Kyn’s driving but he’s not alone. Mars and Dakk climb out of the rig, followed by Lenore. Dakk lifts her like a child and sets her on the hardpack. She has her braids pinned up now—it’s how she wears her hair when she’s plucking chickens. Makes me wonder who she plans to butcher this morning.
The four of them crunch toward me, Kyn’s angst growing with every step. It’s been increasing steadily over the past few hours, his emotions so apologetic I can’t make myself yell at him. He tried to tell me. After the Shiv caves, he did. I was the one who turned him away.
It’s Mars anyway, Mars who orchestrated all of this.
“We need to talk, Miss Quine.”
I turn toward him and lean my hip against the fence, my arms crossed. “For someone who’s always wanting to tell me things, you lie an awful lot.”
“I let you believe what you needed to believe. That’s not the same thing.”
“You know how much more dangerous that road was because of the trailer?”
“I do, Miss Quine. I was there.”
I want them to leave, all of them, but there are things I need to know. If it wasn’t the Dragon Mars wanted, I’m at a loss. I have no idea why I’m out here. All night I’ve been stewing, and although I understand Mars’s personal desire to have Winter sent away, I don’t see how it helps the rebels at all.
“Sylver Quine,” Dakk says, stepping closer, bowing his head, filing the sharp corners off my anger. “Kyndel has told me of your exploits. How you did everything you could to save my wife. I am grateful. My children are grateful. The king and queen shall hear of your valor.” Tears sparkle in his eyes, collect in his soft brown beard.
I could have done more. That’s what I think. I could have ordered Winter to call off her Abaki before that monster buried an axe in Hyla’s back. I could have opened my veins and shared my blood. She’d be here now if I’d been brave enough.