Thread of Frost

Ch. 2: Two Sides of the Same Coin

Flames.

Liquid fire licked at her back. She lashed against the restraints, kicking out with her feet. Outside of the tower, the moon was a yellow pustule. The fire grew hotter against her spine, tearing at with her vicious teeth, and she shuddered. Hadn't she escaped this tower?

A sob caught in her throat.

A dream. The whole thing — Ryne, the boat to the Gongo Islands, all of it — had been a dream. And now she was back here, now she was...

Black boots walked toward her. Eris crouched down, his smile made of nightmares and wicked promises. He ran a blade down her face slowly. Lovingly. She twisted away and Eris caught her chin, his voice soft as a paintbrush stroke. "You really do have a lovely scream."

The pain began again. A knife twisted into her back, sending shockwaves up her spine, and a scream tore from her lungs—

"Cidarius!"

Hands shaking her.

"Cidarius! Wake up."

Anna shot upright.

The room was still. She could hear her own ragged breathing in the darkness; somewhere outside, waves pounded against the shore. A warm breeze filtered through the rounded window. She squinted, trying to make out objects in the darkness: green vines wrapped around white pillars; blue-and-white tiled walls; a marble dragon, holding up a basin.

Relief filled her.

A figure sat on the bed. He was dressed in loose white trousers, his dark hair rumpled with sleep. The moonlight caught one side of his face, illuminating the stubble at his jaw. The bright green of his eye.

Anna's mouth felt dry. "I dreamt...

"I know." Ryne's mouth tightened. "You said his name."

She touched the bedsheets. "I'm really here?"

"You're really here," Ryne said.

He crossed to the basin, soaking a cloth in the water. He held it out to her. Anna pressed the cotton to her face, letting the cool cotton soothe her warm skin. She dabbed her neck next, wincing slightly as the cloth brushed her back.

Ryne's face darkened. "Does it still hurt?"

"No," she said truthfully.

Her scars had healed over the last week. But it was the words that Eris had carved into her flesh that bothered her: Vox es nuqum. I am nothing. Anna stared at her hands; she hated Eris for what he'd done, but she hated him even more for what he'd turned her into. Every branch snapping became footsteps. Every dark shadow became a monster.

And she was afraid.

For the first time in her life, Anna was truly afraid.

Ryne sat on the bed, his shoulders tense. "Cidarius, I—"

The door burst open.

"Annie." Kane stepped into the room, flushed and breathless. "Are you—?"

Her friend broke off, taking in the scene: the damp cloth pressed to her cheek; Ryne, braced over her; and her... Well, Anna didn't know what she looked like, but she suspected it wasn't good. Ryne rose.

"Hillsbrook," he said.

Kane gave a stiff nod. "Delafort." His eyes slid to Anna. "I heard screaming."

She lowered the cloth. "It was nothing. Just a nightmare."

"Oh." Kane's grip on his sword relaxed. "Do you want a hot tea? Or a book?"