Page 55 of Sky’s Edge

Okay.

Sure, I was astride the SnowSprint, my front plastered to Tanyn’s back, my arms cinched tight around his trim waist, Hurley joyfully chomping at the air, sitting in a basket behind us.

And all that was lovely.

But we were speeding along the landscape on a snow version of a moto-bike, open to the elements.

So even in my cute creamy knit cap, my shiny-cream puffy parka, my thick cinnamon-colored jeans, wool-lined cream suede snow mittens and adorable new boots, I was freezing my complete ass off.

No, it was my cheeks, and not my ass cheeks. The cheeks on my face (along with my nose…and lips) felt like they’d never dethaw.

And we were going very fast, the wind whipping at us in every direction.

All right, I’d admit, the fast part was a rush.

It was the cold part that sucked.

And the snow that was thrown up by the wind, hitting my face like a million different pin pricks and coating my fabulous, mirrored ski shades with wet…

No.

I didn’t know where this lynx pen was, but it wasn’t close to the citadel, that was for sure.

No wonder his mother couldn’t make it back with a broken ankle.

Suddenly, Tanyn slowed, then stopped, and I looked around and saw nothing but snow, snow-capped trees, also snow-capped mountains.

No pen.

Hurley barked.

“Just a sec,” Tanyn said, prying my arms loose from his waist. I swung back as he swung off and ordered, “Stay here.”

Wait.

Was there some threat?

If so, where were the stupid Grenadiers?

I stilled as I saw a flurry of motion in the not-so-distance get closer.

Closer.

And closer!

Hurley, staying put for some unhinged reason, barked again.

“Tanyn,” I called urgently.

He did not jump on the SnowSprint and take off to get us to safety.

He crouched.

And the creature hit Tanyn full bore in the chest, taking him to his back in the snow.

I stood, still straddling the Sprint, and cried, “Tanyn!”

They were wrestling, snow churning all around, and Hurley wasn’t moving to intervene, for some ungodsly reason.