Winter, White and Wicked - Shannon Dittemore Page 0,62

“And would you lead it?”

“Perhaps. Why? Do you not think me capable?”

“I think it unnecessary. What is it you want that you cannot take with your magic? Why indebt others to violence when you can carry the burden alone?”

“You forget, Miss Quine, that if Winter leaves Shiv Island, much of my magic goes with her.”

“What do you mean?”

“The kol in my blood gives me a measure of authority over Winter. That’s all it does. Were she to be banished from Shiv Island—”

“You’d be just a man.”

“A devilishly handsome, charismatic, swashbuckling man. But yes. I would be less than I am.”

“And still you want her gone from this place?”

“More than life itself.”

The road bottoms out, the blades now slogging their way through wet foliage. As we begin to climb, the trees thin, and then the fog, the momentum of our swift drop propelling us up the mountainside.

“We should save the motors,” I say, reaching out.

“I’ll do it,” Mars says, batting my hand away and leaning forward.

The motors grind to a halt and the arms fold in on themselves, elbow and wrist tucked close, until the saws are resting against the Dragon.

“So quiet,” Mars says, more to himself than anything. It is quieter without the saw blades spinning, but we’re still fighting branches here and there, still taking swats at the windows and the bucket. It’s nothing the Dragon can’t handle and I press my foot down hard on the gas as the incline steepens.

“You’ve a strange look on your face, Miss Quine.”

“A strange look you wouldn’t be able to see if you were sitting back in your seat.”

“Ah, but if I were sitting back in my seat, I would be no help with the lever.”

“We’ve a good half hour before we’ll need the saws again.” Still Mars doesn’t move. “Why don’t you check on Kyn?”

He meets my gaze in the mirror. “I’m not quite sure you understand the caliber of people I employ.”

“Is he your employee or your friend? You seem confused by the distinction.”

Another long stare before Mars grunts and withdraws. A small victory, I think.

He disappears into the sleeper cab, the curtain snapping shut behind him, and it’s almost like being alone for a moment. Hyla’s here, but she’s settled down again and is snoring, her golden curls resting against her cheek, turning the bloodied soldier innocent.

Useless, the lot of them.

CHAPTER 15

Voices push their way through the sleeper’s velvet curtain and another knot of something unwinds inside me. Kyn’s awake.

Why his injuries bother me more than the outright murder of Jymy Leff, I can’t say, but it’s not a feeling I enjoy. Kyn’s a hired gun, a smuggler, and going by the company he keeps, a rebel sympathizer. Are his crimes less than Jymy’s? I don’t know. Neither concerned me much before recent events. I just wish I knew what it was about Kyn that makes me . . . worry. I’ve only ever worried about Lenore.

A grain ball drops into my lap. “You’re not sleeping are you, Miss Quine?”

“I’m tempted,” I say through my teeth as I use them to untie the twine.

“Well, don’t. Kyndel’s doing much better, but I doubt we could depend on him to negotiate these cages.”

“How is he?” I ask, fighting to keep my voice even.

“Awake. Testing your store of rations. It seems the foxes were more interested in the twyl chewing gum.” Behind me, Mars is unwrapping something himself.

“Did the kol help?” I ask.

“I wouldn’t use kol on Kyn,” Mars says. “The Shiv are especially sensitive. It’s why the Desolation Shiv don’t like their twyl stores threatened, why they burn it day and night in their caves.”

“But Kyn’s wounds? How—”

“Do you believe in anything, Miss Quine? Anything at all?” My heart is thundering and I can’t understand why. I’m considering the question but he doesn’t seem to need an answer. “A brief stop would do us all good, I think.”

I raise my brows at him in the rearview.

“You want me to stop?”

“Even smugglers need to relieve themselves, Miss Quine. And if we won’t make it through before nightfall, we might as well be comfortable.”

A quick respite wouldn’t be the worst thing, I realize, shifting in my seat. “It’ll have to wait until we clear this cage.”

“Fair enough.”

We’re hardly climbing now, the engine growling with the effort of dragging us up and over. The last quarter of a mile is painful, my calf cramping as I fight to keep the pedal to the floor. It’s a strange thing, climbing and climbing and never feeling