Page 64 of Too Hexed to Handle

Astin was here. Astin was on this mountain.

He didn’t go back to Shiverholde.

I wrap my scarf tighter around my throat. ‘I have to go.’

I need to find him. To tell him . . . I don’t know. But the fact he didn’t leave, didn’t go chasing after Souleaters, but instead continued on the search . . . that has to mean something.

‘Daisy –’ Nuri calls out, and I’m not sure if it’s to plead with me some more, or to issue a warning, because suddenly Cale is there, lunging towards me as though tired of the conversation.

Well, I’m tired of them delaying my trip to the cure. My salvation. My inn. My Astin.

A puff of shadow fills the air. A leftover dreg from the magic I harvested in the maze. It’s unintentional, startling me more than anything, but it’s enough to make Cale pause in his tracks, giving me time to spin on my heel and sprint for the pass.

An arrow flies past my head. Shit. Faster. I need to be faster. The pounding footsteps at my rear come unmistakeably closer, and I shoot out another blast of magic, on purpose this time, and I risk a glance over my shoulder to see it hit the cliff on one side of the pass. Rocks tumble in Cale’s path.

Dust sprays as they land, shielding him from view, but his frustrated roar tells me it’s the best chance I have. I push myself harder, not knowing how long it’ll take him to clear those rocks, wanting to create as much distance between us as possible. Sweat beads on my brow, and I regret both the scarf and the cloak, but I don’t dare stop to remove them. Not until I’m safe.

It’s only when I’m gasping for air, calves burning and a stitch pinching so hard it’s like someone has rammed a giant pair of tweezers into my insides, that I pause for breath. Bile rises in my throat. Oh, I am not built for exercise. And to think, some people do this for fun.

But I’m alone, at least. Wind whistles against my ears, whipping my hair against my face. The city is no more than a speck in the distance now, and there are no figures chasing me through the mist. Some of the tension in my body eases. At least, until I spot the grey clouds overhead, thick and swollen, ready to burst.

Ugh. I trudge on, hitting snow at last, ankle-deep in places, and I wrap my arms around my middle. The sky darkens before I ever truly saw the day as I plough on for hours, and then the clouds unleash themselves. It’s hard to tell if it’s rain, ice, snow, or some combination of the three; I just know everything is wet and freezing, and my teeth are chattering so loudly I’m able to hear them over the howl of the wind, the splattering of liquid hitting my face, the –

‘Daisy.’

I halt at the sound of that voice.

Astin.

I spin round. It takes me a while to find him, sitting on the ground, resting against the cliff, chest heaving. The relieved sigh that escapes my mouth is short-lived, because he looks terrible. In a still infuriatingly attractive but having a bad day kind of way. Purple rings hang beneath his eyes, like he hasn’t slept since we parted. There’s a dark stain on one of his thighs. ‘What happened to you?’

‘I joined a group of contestants who’d found a stash of potion bottles. Ozias’s name was scrawled on the crate. We stopped for a rest, and I tried to slip away, to get ahead and find the cure without them, but they caught me sneaking off and –’ He groans as he adjusts his position, placing his hand against his leg. Blood pools around his fingers. ‘They stabbed me and stole my pack.’

‘Hexes, Astin . . .’ I reach out, then change my mind, my hand hanging limply at my side. ‘Why are you here? I assumed you’d left for good.’

‘Why do you think I’m here?’ is the clipped response. ‘I wasn’t letting you do this alone.’

I gape at him. Despite everything, warmth suffuses my chest. Does this mean he’s forgiven me? Or, at the least, couldn’t bring himself to leave me unattended up a mountain, in case something terrible happened?

‘So are we –’

‘Can this interrogation wait?’ It’s not a snap, but it’s close, and some of that warmth cools. I wish I knew if he regretted being here because he’s ended up stabbed (understandable), or that now he’s seen me, it’s brought back every reason why he left in the first place (not ideal). ‘I think I can walk, if you help me up. We could still catch them.’

‘We?’ I try to keep my voice steady.

He works his jaw, and I hold my breath, hoping, waiting, wishing. A sweet scent lingers in the air, lighter than mist, but it makes me lick my lips, wanting to taste it forever. He came back.

‘You’re here now. No point going separately.’ He clears his throat. ‘I promised I’d save your inn, and I keep my promises. It doesn’t mean anything.’

But it does.

He also promised to track down the Souleater who killed his sister, and not for the first time, he’s forgone that promise to help me instead. That’s not nothing. That’s everything. I grin as I haul him upright, something stronger than magic rearing its head inside me.

Hope.

‘Whatever you’re smiling about, stop it,’ he says, hissing as he adjusts his weight to his non-injured leg. ‘We need to be quick if we want to – Daisy, you’re still smiling.’

‘Sorry. It’s just . . . you’re here.’ I risk squeezing his hand, and although he flinches, he doesn’t pull away. ‘I thought you’d hate me forever.’