“No.”Ashe shook her head.Her frustration was palpable.“She was vague about it.Wouldn’t answer any of my questions, just dismissed me once she’d given me the briefing.So I suppose it’ll be a surprise once we’re all in that amphitheater.”
They continued their patrol in silence for a time, their footsteps echoing against the ancient stone.Frostforge's interior was strangely hushed, as if the very walls were holding their breath.The dim oil lamps, lit with the academy's signature blue, cryomantically-influenced flame, cast long shadows that flickered over banners and weapon racks.Outside the narrow windows, snow drifted steadily against the glass.
The uncertainty gnawed at Thalia like a physical thing.She couldn't fight shadows and insinuations; she needed to know exactly what Roran was being condemned for, needed to hear it from his own lips.
Her jaw tightened as they passed under a row of dimly glowing rune-lamps.The decision crystallized in her mind like ice forming over water—sudden and complete.
"Ashe," she said, stopping in the middle of the corridor."I need a favor."
Ashe turned to face her, eyes narrowing at whatever she saw in Thalia's expression."What kind of favor?"she asked, though her tone suggested she already knew.
"Cover for me," Thalia said."Just for a little while.I need to go to the north tower."
"To see Bright," Ashe said.It wasn't a question.
"I have to talk to him.Before the trial.Or I’ll lose my mind."
Ashe's eyes searched her face, looking for something Thalia couldn't name."If you're caught, we'll both answer for it," she said finally."You know that."
"I know."
A sigh escaped Ashe's lips, her breath fogging in the cold air."You never could follow orders, could you, Greenspire?"
Despite everything, Thalia felt her mouth quirk into a small smile."Not the ones that don't make sense."
Ashe shook her head, but there was a reluctant acceptance in her eyes."Fine.Go.But be quick about it, and for the Founders’ sake, don't get caught."
"I won't," Thalia promised."Thank you."
At the next junction, Ashe turned down one hallway as though continuing their circuit.Thalia slipped the other way, keeping to the shadowed edges of the corridor.Her heart pounded against her ribs, half from urgency, half from the fear of being seen.
The route to the north tower was long and, to Thalia's relief, sparsely lit.The upper windows showed only swirls of snow outside, the night sky obscured by clouds.The air grew colder the farther she descended toward the tower's base, where the cells were kept.This portion of the keep, built directly into the sheer cliff face below the Crystalline Plateau, was slightly lower than the rest of the interior, aside from the Howling Forge.
Thalia moved quietly, years of training making her steps nearly silent despite her armor.She encountered no one—a stroke of luck she didn't dare question—until she reached the barred entrance to the prison floor.
Rasmus stood leaning against the wall beside the heavy iron door, his fur cloak draped over his shoulders.His expression was one of profound boredom, his eyes half-lidded as he stared at nothing.A flicker of relief ran through Thalia at the sight of him.Of all the Northern students who might have been assigned guard duty, Rasmus was perhaps the only one who held any respect for her—not given freely due to shared heritage, as it would have been for a fellow Northerner, but earned through the tumultuous year he’d spent under Thalia’s command.
He straightened as she approached, surprise and wariness crossing his angular features."You shouldn't be here," he said, his voice flat, but there was a hint of welcome in his eyes that told Thalia he was secretly glad to see her.
"I need to see him, Rasmus," Thalia said, keeping her voice low.
Rasmus's eyes narrowed, conflict plain in his expression.He was torn between his duty to Frostforge and his loyalty to Thalia—loyalty built from experience rather than browbeaten into him by cultural expectation.The blue glow of the cryomantic lamps flickered across his sharp Northern features as he exhaled sharply through his nose.
"I have direct orders," he said, though he still seemed conflicted."No visitors.Especially not—" He cut himself off, but Thalia knew what he had been about to say.Especially not someone who might sympathize with the prisoner.Especially not Southerners.Especially notyou.
She reached for her belt and pulled out a small, cloth-wrapped bundle.Unwrapping it revealed a golden honeycomb, its cells perfect hexagons filled with amber liquid.Rasmus's eyes widened slightly at the sight.
"I found a beehive near the inlet of the fjord on our journey here," Thalia explained."Honeybees are almost never seen this far north.The bees in these regions are scarce and hibernate for most of the year."She rewrapped the precious commodity."I was planning to gather herbs from the pine forest to make tea, and infuse the honey into it for a treat.I can gather those herbs for you instead, if you help me here."
Rasmus's eyes darted from the honeycomb to Thalia's face, then down the corridor.His jaw worked as he considered the offer.Finally, he snatched the bundle from her hand.
"Five minutes," he muttered."And if anyone finds out—"
"You never saw me," Thalia finished.
With a grunt, Rasmus unlocked the ice-iron door and pushed it aside with some effort, letting Thalia step into the darkened prison wing.The corridor beyond was lined on one side with forbidding stone, and on the other with the ice-iron bars of three cells, which almost never saw actual use.The air was freezing here, with far less effort made to warm the space—no braziers, no torches.It was fully dark and windowless save for two-inch slits along the walls, barely wide enough to admit a blade of moonlight.
Rasmus passed Thalia a torch from outside, it’s cool blue glow illuminating the cells.With the light, she could make out the cells and their single occupant clearly.
