Winter, White and Wicked - Shannon Dittemore Page 0,59

did the best they could while they waited . . . for you.”

My eyes snap to his, and suddenly he looks like Shyne. The set of his jaw, the wide-open dare in his eyes. Ask me, it says. Let me tell you who you are. But before I can say a thing, the rig takes on a pothole and the mirror swings wildly, breaking our eye contact.

“No more talking,” I say. “We’re coming up on the Cages.”

CHAPTER 14

Winter isn’t the only one who never shuts up.

“Miss Quine,” Mars says.

“We’re not talking, remember?”

“Why would a mapmaker call this section of the road the Dark Depths?” He stretches a crumpled road map on his knees, flattening the edges.

“Where’d you find that?”

“Dove foxes must have dug it up. Found this as well.” He lifts one of my old stocking caps from the seat, a faded blue-and-gray-striped thing I couldn’t be happier to see. My favorite cap is buried somewhere beneath the melting snow of High Pass with Kyn’s rifle.

The bench seat squeals beneath Mars and his fingers catch in my hair as he moves forward. My braid’s a knotted mess, but there’s no time to fix it now. Instead, I take the cap from his hand and wedge it on my head. We’re not far from the first drop.

“Strange thing,” I say. “There isn’t a single rebel camp on that map. Something you could remedy if you wanted to.”

“I bet I could,” Mars says, his voice quiet.

“Still don’t trust me?” I ask. “I told you, I need your help with Lenore. She’s not going to climb into the Dragon on her own. Not after the fight we had.”

“I imagine you can be quite convincing when you want to be. And it didn’t sound like much of a fight at all, Miss Quine. Not from Miss Trestman’s account.”

“What did she say?” I ask, irritated he knows things about Lenore that I don’t.

“She was angry that you wouldn’t listen, frustrated that you wouldn’t help. She was ready to fight for what she wanted, but you? You slammed the door in her face and took to the road.”

I can hear Lenore’s voice. The waspish tone she used when she told him that.

My answer was one I’ve given her time and time again. Now I spit it at Mars. “I had a job to do.”

“Then you understand my dilemma, Miss Quine. I too have a job, and it requires we reach the camp together in one piece. Now,” he says, “tell me why this old map refers to your cages as the Dark Depths.”

I roll my neck, blow the tension out through my nose.

“Miss Quine—”

“It depends on who you ask,” I say. “To the kol miners who first called this stretch of road the Cages, the steepness of the grade reminded them of the large metal enclosures that dropped them deep into the island. Combine the sharp incline with the grabbing knot of trees we’ll encounter on the way down, and it’s impossible not to feel caged in.”

“And the Dark Depths?”

I shrug. “I’ve heard a few rig drivers use that name. Mostly though, riggers avoid this stretch of road. The darkness here is a problem, especially in the night hours.”

“Your Dragon has headlamps, does it not?”

“It does, but they work against us down there. Fog settles in the low places and bounces the light around, blinding more than helping. If we can manage it at all, we need to clear the Cages before the sun goes down. Which means . . .”

“No talking.”

“And sit back. I can’t do this with you breathing down my neck.”

“Whatever you say, Miss Quine.”

I press my foot hard to the brake and the Dragon screams to a stop, the trailer fishing around. Mars is thrown backward—something I hear rather than see. Hyla gropes for a handhold, but it’s reflex only. Her eyes never open.

“Miss Quine—”

I turn my face to his, my braid flying. “Can I hold you to that?”

“To what?” He’s rubbing at his head, checking his fingers for blood.

“To doing whatever I say? Until we get through the last of the Cages, can I trust that you will do whatever I need you to do?”

“I assure you, Miss Quine—”

“Yes or no, Dresden? Can I trust you?”

His face is unreadable, his crusted lips a thin line, his gaze holding mine. I look for a challenge there, a fight. But all he says is, “You can.”

“Good.” I flip forward once more and my hair snags again in his knuckles. I yank my gnarled