Thread of Frost

Ch. 31: The Soul Pools

The caves smelled of cupcakes.

Anna sniffed the air, pressing her hand against the porous stone walls. There. It was unmistakable. Vanilla drifted up from the pink pools, curling in fairy-spun spirals. Anna thought of lazy Sunday afternoons in Henry's bakery, licking sticky batter off wooden spoons. She nudged Ryne.

"Do you smell that?"

His mouth tightened. "Yeah."

"It's..."

"Irresistible," Ryne finished.

His face was growing more pinched as they approached the Soul Pools, his dark hair curling slightly in the humidity. He looked as if he'd just swallowed a burning hot iron, Anna thought. Slaine moved to stand beside them.

"That's the point," Slaine said. "The Soul Pools smell different to everyone. For some, they smell like lavender perfume, and for others, they smell like the sea. That's how they lure you in." He turned to Anna. "What does it smell like for you?"

"Cake." The scent lingered in the air. "You?"

Slaine gave her a small smile. "Summer bonfires."

"Smoke?" Anna wrinkled her nose. "Interesting choice."

"Sometimes," Slaine said, "it's not a choice. Sometimes it's tied to a memory. I never liked the smell of bonfire before, but after that day..." His voice echoed around the cavernous stone walls. "Some things are inevitable."

There was a wistful note in his voice. Anna slowed as they reached the edge of the pools, inhaling the sticky-sweet vanilla scent.

"What about you, Delafort?"

Ryne didn't look at her. "Let's just get this over with."

He stripped off his shirt. Muscles rippled under his taught skin, tensing and flexing, and Anna looked away. The steam warmed her cheeks. She was suddenly aware of the others gathered in the cramped space — Slaine, Althea, a beefy man in crimson robes, the steely-eyed woman whose name was Kati — and she busied herself with unfurling a length of rope as Ryne shucked off his trousers.

Water splashed. When Anna turned, Ryne was waist-deep in the pink pool, his expression twisted into a grimace.

She crouched by the edge. "How does it feel?"

"Not great," Ryne muttered.

"It looks fun."

"Oh, yes," Ryne said mildly. "Nothing says fun like a bunch of ancient pools that can melt off your ski—"

"Don't."

Althea's voice echoed off the damp stone walls. They all turned to look at her, and she flushed. "Sorry. It's just, that would count as a lie. And you only want to tell the truth in those pools," she said, eyeing the water warily. "Trust me."

Anna raised an eyebrow. "Have you seen someone bathe in them before?"

"Just in paintings," Althea said. "Reginald the Betrayer."

"What happened?"

Althea toyed with the end of a dark plait. "He never made it out."

"Burned his skin right off," Slaine said cheerfully. "He turned into human soup."

"Cidarius," Ryne said. "I want you to go."

He was breathing heavily, his dark hair curling around his temples. A muscle flickered in his jaw. Anna frowned. "Why?"

"Just go." Ryne gritted his teeth. "Please."

Anna straightened. She wasn't what was more disconcerting: Ryne's grimace, or the fact that he'd used the word please. Kati's shoes scuffed the floor. The steely-eyed woman picked up the rope, weighing it in her hand; her nails were caked with dirt.