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Adair hooted and flapped his wings, taking flight once more. He didn’t leave her, though, only guided her to her father’s temporary home. It was a rounded shape like hers, with blocks of ice surrounding it. A black curtain covered a large hole in its center.
Eirah ducked as she peeled back the curtain and stepped inside. Her father sat by a crackling fire in the middle of the house, a fur blanket covering him while he carved a wooden figure. Most of the things Saren had brought must’ve remained in the sleigh because the space was bare except for two sacks, a basket of fruit and dried meat, canteens of water, and blankets. Saren lay fast asleep on one of the bedrolls, her back facing them.
“Hello, daughter. I was hoping you’d come by,” Eirah’s father said with a bright smile, looking up as he chipped away at the wood.
“I’m glad you’re watching over her, Papa,” Eirah murmured, sinking down beside him.
“She’s like a second daughter to me.”
“I wish I could talk to her, but I need to give her time.” Saren had been quiet on their travels when they’d met during breaks. Her eyes hadn’t been as puffy, but she’d continued to mostly stare at her hands.
“She’ll come around. I didn’t talk to anyone for a while after your mother passed.” He wrapped his arm around Eirah, drawing her close.
“You don’t talk to anyone now.” Her lips tilted up at the edges as she rested her head on his shoulder.
“Like father, like daughter.” Their village may consider her father different, but she wouldn’t change him for anything in the world.
Eirah released him and peered at the basket of fruit and dried meat. “Did you have enough to eat? I can ask one of the guards to bring you something else.”
“I’m fine. I already had my fill.” He patted his stomach and expanded it, making her laugh softly.
Eirah chatted with her father for a long while, then went to Saren. She looked so young as she slept, her golden hair spread around her. Eirah knelt before her friend and kissed her on the forehead. “I’ll check on you tomorrow and will send prayers tonight for Petre.”
Saren cracked open her eyes, and she let out a small sigh. “Goodnight.”
Eirah bid her father goodbye and ventured back toward her ice house. As she looked up into the trees, Adair released a loud hoot. She batted a hand in the air, pleading with him to hush.
When she approached the ice house, she was uncertain if she wished for Morozko to be asleep or awake. A part of her hoped he was waiting for her to finish where they’d left off.Bah, Eirah!You can be so foolish.
Drawing back the curtain, she slipped inside, finding Morozko alone, pacing back and forth as he sharpened his blade. She took a deep swallow, brushing her fingers against her throat. Had Andras’s news meant her death should occur on this night?
“It’s not for you, Eirah.” He peered up, his face serious. “I don’t want to harm you.” A playful taunt wasn’t there as she’d been expecting.
Eirah furrowed her brow and took a step closer to him. “Is everything all right?”
“No, it is not. My suspicions came to fruition. No child in the village is afraid of the fires. The guards brought food to everyone, and they were all near the flames, with no fear on their faces. My theory is that it’s because they are inside the shell of a human. Perhaps the changelings believe they are protected this way, that no one will threaten them if they don’t know who they are.”
“Or perhaps they are all just fine. Perhaps they didn’t go inside any of the children after all.” She inched closer to him and pressed a hand to his chest, unexpectedly feeling his heart beat beneath her palm. “We’ll find a way. Together.”
Morozko looked down at her—a deep line settled between his brow as he studied her. “Besides guards, I’ve never had anyone offer to help me protect Frosteria. Much less a maiden.”
“Perhaps because you never let anyone in,” she teased with a smile. “But I suppose I don’t either, so we’re one and the same.”
“I don’t think you’ve done anything near as brutal as I have.”
Eirah hadn’t, but it didn’t matter. As his heart continued to beat against her hand, she thought of their earlier moment together. “About what happened before. Between us. Do you think it was a mistake?”
Morozko arched a brow, tossing the blade to the ground as he backed her against the wall. “A mistake? I don’t make mistakes, little bird. Not when it comes to pleasure.” He lifted her chin, his thumb stroking across her skin. “If I’m touching you, it’s because I choose to and because you want me to.”
“Do you not find it strange that I hated you? That I wanted you dead and that you chose me as your sacrifice? That I may still have to die?”
He was quiet for a moment before shaking his head. “No, not at all. Because, in truth, I hated you, too, for what you represented. I still hate it. But I don’t hateyou.” His finger trailed down her neck and across her collarbone, his expression unreadable. “Tell me you don’t want my touch, that you’d rather me give it to someone else, and I’ll leave you here alone if that’s what you wish.”
Eirah tightened her fists, frustrated at how he couldn’t say things in a more delicate manner. “Then go. Pick another maiden, someone more beautiful, that you wish you could’ve chosen instead, you prick.”
He smirked. “Is that jealousy I hear?”
“Yes!” she hissed. “You make me care one moment, and the next you make me furious!”
