Now I was the one who wanted to get away. To make sense of this, I needed something normal: familiar walls, my own bed, my mother’s fussing. A craving for steadiness after all this madness. Yet, as I leaned into him again, my ear pressed to the steady, thundering beat of his heart, I realized something I didn’t want to admit: that rhythm—that warmth—felt steadier than anything I’d ever known. I wasn’t at all sure I wanted to leave it behind.
Light flicked on then, though my host still held me, and it didn’t seem to me like we’d moved—not enough to reach a light switch. It helped to see the warm wooden floors, the artful handcrafted furniture, and the colorful quilt on the back of the armchair. It chased away the shadows and chased away the remnants of the dream that had caused me to panic in the first place.
Then my eyes caught on the bluish sail, speckled with frost, crawling up the edges. It had a sharp hook on one end—dark blue—and an arch like a tent pole, or rather… a batwing. That’s what had tapped the light switch. It felt like it took me seconds to trace that odd shape to Ísarr’s shoulder before I came to the startling conclusion that it was a wing. “A wing,” I heard myself mutter out loud, stunned. Then, much more incredulously, “Okay, okay, show off. You’re real. You’re really a dragon. Cool. Is that why you didn’t want me here last night? Because I’d find out?” My eyes flashed to his horns and the blue hue of his skin I had tried to pretend wasn’t there yesterday.
His expression was grim, and he began to retreat. I felt cold as his arms slipped from around me and he stepped back. His wings rustled as they tucked against his back and then vanished without a trace. Those, apparently, he could hide, but not the horns. “Yes,” he growled, with a good dose of anger, but I wasn’t sure if it was directed at me or at himself.
Then he stalked away, across his living area, back, and abruptly out the door. I was left staring at the doorway, confused about what had just happened. Where did I stand with this guy? I still barely knew him, but he’d hugged me, and I absolutely believed him when he said he’d protect me. There was a kind of faith in his promise that I simply could not shake.
The sound of something thumping preceded the wash of light streaming in through one of the windows. He was opening the shutters one by one. I kept getting glimpses of him as he moved around the cabin, and I could not resist following his progress. He was scowling fiercely and kept rubbing one of his horns as if it bothered him, then glanced over his shoulder, possibly in unease.
By the kitchen window, I saw him spot an ice sculpture of a deer huddled low, and his face went absolutely white. Like he’d seen a ghost. I wasn’t sure what that meant, but then he vanished around the corner of the cabin, and I could no longer see him. My gut twisted. Did he not know that sculpture? Was he not the one who made it? One thing I did know: despite how little we talked, it was still obvious he was a good guy—from the way he’d made sure I was warm, even though he didn’t want me here, to the fact that he let me have his bed and hugged me when I was scared.
Still, even if I wanted to linger a bit longer and find out all I could, I had to call my mom and let her know I was okay. Knowing my mamma, she was probably out of her mind with worry and had the police out in force looking for me. My phone was in my coat pocket, but, obviously, the battery was dead. I’d have to ask Ísarr for a charger, he had to have one, because he definitely had a cellphone. He’d used it to call the sheriff last night. Oh, maybe that meant they knew I was unharmed. I hoped so. I didn’t want my mamma to be sick with worry, she’d blame herself, too, for insisting I go with Kevin in the first place.
His cellphone was on the kitchen counter, a clunky one with an extra-strong protective case against dropping it. Maybe he needed it, considering the woodwork he was into. There was nodoubt that the partially finished—but already lifelike—wooden bear in the corner was his handiwork.
I nearly jumped out of my skin when he thumped back into the cabin a moment later, stomping snow-covered boots and frowning so deeply it was surely going to leave a line imprinted in his forehead forever. His pale eyes flashed my way, then dropped, as if he was avoiding looking at me now, and I got the distinct impression that the soft touch was gone. He was back to wanting me out of here, right away. I crossed my arms over my chest, popped my hip against the counter, and waited to see what he’d do next.
Yesterday, I would have been apologetic, as eager to go as he was to see me leave. Yesterday, I would have felt guilty for imposing, for taking his time when I was uninvited. Today, though? It was a whole other ball game. That hug, the knowledge that he was something that wasn’t human, that changed things. The hug more than the dragon thing, actually. I wanted to know more, and I had a feeling he wanted to know more too; he just didn’t get it yet.
Chapter 8
Ísarr
I stomped back into the cabin, snow still clinging to my boots, shoulders tight enough to snap. The shutters were open now, daylight spilling in—pale and thin—across the wooden floorboards. It revealed what both Bianca and I already knew: the storm was over, and she was free to go. I wished I hadn’t looked outside, hadn’t seen what was waiting there in the snowdrifts beyond my porch.
It had all looked clear, safe. The front yard, at least, and so had everything around my atelier. The deer had been caught on the far side of the cabin, just visible from my kitchen window. Perhaps it had thought to shelter from the storm beneath the shrubs and the dense pines there. It hadn’t counted on me. Caught in perfect, crystalline ice, forever frozen in mid-step. Its eyes wide, its final breath captured, heart no longer pounding. Horrible and beautiful at the same time; I hated it.
Another innocent thing, stilled by my storm—by me.
I yanked the door shut harder than necessary, sealing the light away. My chest ached with the knowledge that I’d killed again without meaning to. And still—still—Bianca stood in the center of my cabin, her coat open and her posture relaxed, bright eyes turned toward me as if I weren’t a monster. As if I were worth trusting.
It was unbearable.
I froze inside the way I always did when feelings rose too sharp, staring instead of speaking, clamping my jaw shut before I said something I couldn’t take back. She was so tempting it hurt to look, hair loose around her shoulders, cheeks flushed with warmth from my fire. My fire that would never be enough to counter the cold in me.
She tilted her head, studying me as if she could see straight through my silence. Then she drawled, slow and sweet, “I need to make a call.”
The words should have been nothing, but somehow, they loosened something locked inside my chest. Heat rose beneath my skin, crawling up my throat. My face felt hot. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d blushed—maybe never. Ice dragons didn’t blush, did they? I turned away too quickly, pretending to busy myself, but the shame of it lingered.
When she held out her dead phone, I took it without a word. Our fingers brushed, and a spark I tried to ignore shot straight down to my gut—and lower. I plugged the thing into the charger by the kitchen counter, careful not to breathe too deeply, careful not to drown in the scent of her so close behind me. She was beginning to smell like me now: there was her scent of flowers, something soft I couldn’t name, and my pine and ice, my smoke and wood. It wasn’t good how much I liked that. I needed her gone.
Grabbing my own phone, I dialed Jackson, desperation scraping my throat raw. The sheriff always answered. Always. With the snowstorm over several hours ago, he had to have had plenty of time to check the roads and other residents. He wouldn’t check on me, obviously, the storm was my element. This time, thecall rang until the line went dead. I frowned at my screen in confusion, wondering if I’d done it wrong, hit redial, but got the same silence.
That was strange—wrong, even. Why would the sheriff be out of reach? People might need him! I needed his help pretty badly right now. Grinding my teeth, I punched in Drew’s number next. Surely, if the sheriff was busy, the deputy would answer? But there was nothing there either. What was going on?
My fingers were stiff on the phone, pressing too hard. Fine, Grandma Liz would answer, she couldn’t possibly be busy too, right? As mayor, that wasn’t strictly true. If there was a crisis in the Hollow that needed the full attention of both lawmen, she might be involved too. I didn’t want to give up hope, though—I needed someone to solve my problem. It felt really rough when Bianca was staring at me with those big blue eyes, as if she could see right through me.
Liz’s voice came through—brisk, businesslike, and a little distracted—but I didn’t want to register that. Relief flickered through me until I tried to get words in. “Liz, I—” I began, but she interrupted me with that same distracted tone that had been in her greeting.
“Ísarr, things are busy. I’ll pick up your work later,” she said. In the background of the call, I could hear the jangle and clatter of her many bracelets as she moved her arm. Across from me on the other side of the counter, Bianca was deadly quiet, still staring, listening to the mounting panic in my tone.
“No, wait, I need—” I tried again, but it was already too late; the line clicked and went dead. I lowered the phone, staring at it likeit had betrayed me. Everyone always answered, because nothing ever happened around here. They always answered—but now? Silence. Brushed off. Hung up on. I knew it wasn’t a slight to me; it meant they had problems, and if it were safe for me to leave my home to help, I’d already be racing down my hill. It wasn’t, though. I could do nothing.
My hand curled around the phone until it creaked. The cabin was too warm, too small, too filled with the sound of her breathing. The deer outside, frozen forever, was proof enough. She wasn’t safe here, but knowing the Hollow was in turmoil meant that the only thing I wanted in that moment was to keep her exactly where she was.
She lingered by the counter, her phone still dark and silent between us. Finally, she tilted her head, eyes narrowing just a fraction. “What’s going on?” She was not afraid of me, and now that it was bright inside the cabin, she was not afraid of the shadows from our dreams either.
