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“His Highness was more of a king than you could have ever been,sir,” snapped Ademar. He was leaning against a tree, glaring at Moreno, with his arms folded and legs crossed at the ankles.
“You can stay, Ad,” I said, “as long as you ease up on the insulting past tense when talking about my rule.”
“Oh,mi querido,” murmured Altagracia sadly, and I could have sworn I could feel her fingers carding through my hair, stroking it gently like she used to whenever I lay my head in her lap. “It’s almost over. You won’t have to suffer for much longer.”
“What? No,” I protested, trying to bat her hands away but unable to lift either of my arms to do so. “Ilikesuffering. Suffering means I can still feel. Suffering means I get to wail at Mathias until he’s suitably annoyed and tries to hit me. Suffering means Ilive.”
She made some sympathetic cooing noises. “Shush. Not long now.”
“Alta-”
“Speaking of. Where is that little pain-in-the-ass of a northerner?” Ademar interrupted, glancing around between the darkened trees.
I didn’t bother to look. Mathias was gone: I knew that more surely than I knew that by conversing with the apparitions gathered around me, I was losing my last vestiges of sanity and reason. The woods felt lifeless without him; a dull stillness like the very air was holding its breath until his return.
“He’s not coming back, you know,” said Moreno. His teeth glinted as white as the snow that never landed on him, no matter how thickly it fell. “He ran away as soon as you lost consciousness. Even a Temarian isn’t stupid enough to risk his life to exposure or starvation for the sake of giving you comfort in your last moments.” He shrugged. “Never mind. I’m sure someone will kill the vicious brat sooner rather than later.”
“It’s okay, Ren,” Alta murmured soothingly. “I’ll stay with you.”
“My prince,” Ad said. He straightened up and offered me a sharp, professional bow. “It’s been an honour.”
“Fuck honour,” I spat. “Mat will return any moment.”
The looks I received from the three of them ranged from amused to pitying, and I scowled at them all.
“I’m sure Nathanael would be here if he could,” Al ventured hesitantly, and Ademar nodded his agreement even as the Comandante gave a derisive snort. “But if something happened to him…”
I swallowed. That hadn’t occurred to me. I’d been ready to give him shit for abandoning a dying man when all I wanted was him at my side when I went, but what if he’d fallen in the dark or encountered a wolf or…mierda, what had I been thinking, tangling him up in my problems?
“Just die already, little Aratorre,” Moreno said with clear exasperation, throwing his head back to stare at the sky. “For once in your life, do what’s expected of you.”
Hoofbeats drummed through the ground towards me, a noise I felt rather than heard. Hope sparked through me and I laughed.
“That would be Mathias,” I told them triumphantly. “And it seems he’s brought me a ride.”
Alta and Ademar glanced at each other.
“My prince…”
As the horse approached, it slowed, whinnied, and then shoved its wet nose into my face. When it drew back, neighing happily, the other phantoms had disappeared.
“Miel,” I said softly, recognising the mannerisms and markings of my dead horse. She tossed her head so that her bridle jangled, and it drew my attention to the person sitting astride her. A woman who was the spitting image of my sister Alondra, only with longer hair that held a tinge of red. Someone I’d only ever seen in portraits. “Mother?”
“Sweetheart,” Consuela Aratorre murmured. “You can rest now.”
“Mother,” I said again, struggling to sit up even though I knew no movement remained to me. “Is it true? What Yanev said about you-”
“I promise to tell you everything when we meet in the next life,” she answered. Her smile was broad, but sad. “It’s now time for you to sleep, Renato.”
*
Chapter Seventeen
Kolya recovered from his shock quickly, lunging forward with his right hand outstretched. His ungloved fingers came to rest a half inch from my cheek, not quite touching but clear in their threat, and blue eyes simmered in fierce savagery. Then he faltered, as if he’d expected me to flee or cower and was unsure of what to think when I did neither.
“What, by the Blessed fucking Five, are you doing here?”
“I told you,” I said, relieved not to hear any waver or tremble in my words. “I need a healer.”
