In the dim firelight, I noticed that the tips of his lashes wore a speck of gold, that a dusting of sparkle adorned his cheekbones, that the same sparkle lingered also amid his golden locks—like fireflies caught in the bramble. Such otherworldliness and sharpness, and yet… such softness as he smiled in his sleep.
I slept beside him that night, but in truth, I did not sleep much at all.
TWENTY
Make them sick, little bird.
Irose from bed as the skies began to flicker with twilight, unable to endure my own restlessness any longer.
I fed a log to the hearth and wrapped myself into Adrik’s discarded cloak before I stepped onto the balcony. At the edge of the forest, amid a gathering of tall spruces, flashed a speck of copper-red. The little fox scurried nervously about, nose pressed desperately into the snow in search of food.
The poor thing. Had no one else noticed its plight? Had no one gone to feed it, taken it inside to warm at the hearth? It would not survive another night, thin and starving as it was—
“Evana?”
I shivered. The warmth of the castle chamber had vanished as sharply and suddenly as a doused fire. Around me was nothingbut glaring white. I stood among the spruces, snow rising to my hip and higher.
“Evana!”
I yanked, desperate to free my arm of whatever held me tightly back. The voice had startled the little fox. I had to make haste, to follow it deep, deep, deep into the dark winter woods.To the ancient oak.
“Evana!”
“Be quiet,” I snarled, flinching at the wrongness of my own voice. I shook my head to clear the daze and found a frantic, moss-green gaze piercing mine.
“What happened? Come, Ana. You’ll catch your death out here.”
Adrik led me back along the path I must have trampled into the snow when I’d run blindly outside. I could not tear my eyes from the trees, desperate to catch another glimpse of copper-red.
“The beasts are starving,” I murmured. A veil hung over my thoughts. A fog that made it difficult to speak, to think.
“I know.”
No, he did not know what I knew. He did not feel that terrible cold in the depths of the earth, the shuddering roots. He did not feel the weariness of the little fox, or that of the birds huddled close on naked branches, keen to save a little warmth, a little strength.
“They will all die,” I sobbed, tears burning my frozen skin. “I can help them. Let me go to them. Let me save them.”
“No, Ana,” Adrik said, pulling me forth. His voice sounded strange; full of fear and cold and almost a little cruel. “Nothing but death awaits in the forest.”
I must have fainted.
The darkness lifted slowly and I found myself in the teahouse, wrapped in a thick blanket and tucked into a fireside armchair. Adrik kneeled beside me, so close I could count the flecks of gold in his eyes.
“Evana,” he whispered, and the ice in my veins thawed. “What happened?”
“I wanted to feed the fox,” I murmured. “It’s starving.”
“We have feeders,” said Adrik, “In the meadows and in the clearing and near the farms. We refill them every morning.” I took a deep breath, but the tightness refused to ease. Adrik's lips tilted into that teasing smile, but his face remained guarded as he said, “It seems youdohave a particular interest in foxes, after all.”
I did not laugh and neither did he. A tension lay in the air—one we had banished for just a fleeting moment up there on the castle balcony beneath the stars. Down here, where the wind howled furiously through the street, where snow piles stole the view from the window, where cold slithered through gaps in the brick… Down here, there was no forgetting our burdens. There was no forgetting that time was slipping from our grasp.
Whatever had blossomed between us in the night withered in the frosty air; like a budding flower in a late-winter storm. How foolish of me to let a simple kiss on the cheek—meant only to comfort a friend—rattle me so. How foolish to blur a line that existed for good reasons: To guard my feeble heart. To keep my mind sharp and unblurred. To ensure I never bound myselfwillingly to another cage, like my mother had when she met my father and mistook him worthy of her devotion.
“You look ghastly,” said Zora, emerging from the withered thicket with a curious glance between us. “Both of you.”
Adrik raised a brow. “Not all of us have time for a honey and flower bath every morning.”
“It is a self-made misery, Adrik. You have a gilded bath in that castle of yours, and friends begging to take the odd task off your hands.” Zora turned to me, a fiendish sparkle in her eyes. “And where didyouspend the night? Is Emond not still at Lorell’s? Adrik did not make you go back to that attic, did he?”
