Winter, White and Wicked - Shannon Dittemore Page 0,27
escape and wishing I could see through the darkness like Winter’s wolves. She’s not far off. Just up that chimney. If I called, she would come. But I wonder if I could even form the word. The only Kerce words I can remember speaking were accidental, desperate compulsions.
The wall of snow. The dice. The squall at Mistress Quine’s.
“I will show you the sins of Mars Dresden,” Shyne says, his gaze following mine. “You should not love Winter the way you do. She has an evil heart.”
“Would it surprise you to know that you and Mars agree on something?”
“Does it surprise you?”
It does, actually, but I let silence be my answer.
“It shouldn’t. We are victims of the same curse.”
He nods at the men hovering by the fire. They stand and, each of them hefting one side of the flat rock, they lift it from my thighs. My legs have no feeling and I have to be helped to stand. Hands under my arms and around my waist, lifting, tugging. It’s more than I’ve let any man do and even in my wretched state, I’m tempted to fight them off.
“Take it,” Shyne says, offering me his walking stick. “Take it.”
He nods at the men and they release me. I grab for the stick, nothing but my own stubbornness keeping me upright.
Shyne stalks toward the shadows in the far corner of the cave, but I don’t follow. Instead, I limp to Kyn’s side, and though my thighs scream with the effort, I crouch near his shoulder.
“He comes too,” I say.
“He is a traitor.”
“I need him,” I lie. “I can’t save my friend without him.”
“We’ve discussed your needs,” Shyne says. “There are other things to be said now.”
I pull myself upright, look him in the eye. “Move these rocks and you can tell me of Mars’s sins. And Kyn’s. You can tell me of Winter’s. Whatever it is you have to say, I will listen. But only if you let him up.”
My legs tremble but I stand firm.
“I will hold you to your promise,” Shyne says, the words a threat.
I clear my throat, nod.
His eyes slide away and he jerks his head, a curt movement that brings two men hovering near the fire closer. They crouch next to Kyn and lift the stone from his chest. An action that sends Kyn into a coughing fit. I move back to give him space while the other stones are removed.
“Sylvi?” he rasps.
Shyne’s men reach down to help him up, but Kyn’s having none of it. He kicks out a leg, knocking the first man into the wall. The second has a shiv pulled before Kyn can swing his body around, but I’m impressed. I can barely walk, much less fight. A coughing fit swallows Kyn whole and he drops to his knees. Shyne clicks his tongue and the men back away.
“It’s OK, Kyn. We’re off to a history lesson.” There’s a plea in my voice, a tremor I wish I could steady. “You like history?” I offer him the bottom of Shyne’s walking stick and for a moment I’m not sure he’ll take it. He’s disoriented and fighting for every breath. But he’s going to have to get it together. I need him to get it together.
He blinks up at me, muddy tears streaming down his face, and with a brute sort of effort, he reaches out and wraps his hands around the walking stick. I hold it as steady as I can while he pulls himself upright, great, shuddering breaths keeping him off-kilter.
“You OK?” he asks me, watching Shyne from beneath hooded eyes.
“Never better.”
Shyne turns his back on us and trudges toward a corner of the cave the firelight has left in shadow.
“Thank you,” he whispers. “They meant to kill me, I think.”
“They still mean to. We have to get out of here.”
Shyne scoops up a stone and knocks it against the cave wall. Rocks shift and a massive archway appears. Winter floods through the gap. She wraps my calves and my thighs, her touch waking me, dulling the pain. I stand taller.
“Stay close,” I say, as we follow Shyne out into the snow.
But Kyn’s eyes are on the valley floor below. On the sprawling lake of ice known as the Desolation.
“Begynd’s Fount,” he says. “It flows.”
Somewhere deep beneath the ice, near its center, a ribbon of molten sylver spreads.
“How long has it been, Traitor, since you’ve paid your respects?” Shyne asks.