Thread of Frost

Ch. 29: Child of Violence

Anna stared at the water below.

The warm sea was a bright turquoise, so clear that she could see the sandy bottom. A ship mast pierced the surface. She shivered, wrapping her towel more tightly around her shoulders; a gentle breeze ruffled her damp hair. The sun was peeking over the horizon, slathering the water in liquid gold.

Footsteps approached.

She turned. Slaine settled beside her, his long legs dangling over the edge. He was dressed informally today — white linen trousers and a black button-up shirt — and he was munching on a piece of buttered toast. His feet were bare.

"You're up early," Slaine said.

Anna shrugged. "Couldn't sleep."

"Are you going for a swim?" he asked.

She shook her head. "I did some cliff-jumping."

Slaine took a bite of toast. "Where's the boat?"

Anna pointed, immediately felt like an idiot, and lowered her hand. Oh. Right. "About fifty meters to our left."

Slaine's brow furrowed, as if he was trying to visualize it. Calculating angles and distance and trajectory. "Cutting it close, don't you think?"

Anna smiled. "What's the worst that could happen?"

She leaned back on her palms, watching as a group of shirtless young men pushed a long brown boat out. How different, Anna thought, to grow up in a place like this; time didn't seem to exist in Zarob. The islands belonged to a different world entirely.

"How's the pain today?" Slaine asked.

"Better," Anna said.

Slaine placed a warm hand on her wrist; the buttery toast made his fingers slick. He inhaled sharply. "Liar." He retracted his hand. "Come to the tower this morning. We'll start working on managing the pain."

Silence fell. Anna tipped her head back, feeling the warm sun on her cheeks. Somewhere, a brass bell chimed. Sailors shouted to each other in Zarobian, their rumbling voices rising over the hush-hush of the sea.

Anna opened her eyes. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course," Slaine said.

"Why are you helping me?"

Slaine considered this. "I don't know. I suppose I've never been to imagine another choice." His throat bobbed. "I have this... impulse to fix people."

"Must be nice," Anna said. "Sometimes I think I was born with violence in my heart."

Slaine rubbed the back of his neck. "You were a child of violence. You were born with vengeance in your heart."

Anna leaned back on her elbows, staring up at the bluebird sky. Not a single white cloud. It was beautiful, Anna thought, but so much sameness. The changelessness of it would have driven her mad. She climbed to her feet, scooping up her towel, knife, and half-eaten piece of star fruit.

"I can't do this morning," Anna said. "Can we say the afternoon?"

Slaine nodded. "Big plans?"

Anna's smile was wry. "Something like that."

***

Anna found him in a supply closet.

Not, she thought, that it was really a supply closet; it was a small room beside the chapel, crammed with orange-scented incense sticks and brass bells and leather-bound prayer books. A rose window let in buttery light, illuminating the dust motes that swirled above Ryne's head. He rolled up his white sleeves, his gold signet ring flashing.