Thread of Frost

Ch. 40: Game of Marbles

"It's Tristan," Anna said. "It has to be."

She yanked on a rope. The boat sighed, shaking out her white sails like hair from a ribbon. Ryne crossed his arms. They were standing on the wooden decking, the sun beating down on their necks; the air smelled of saltwater and taffy. She couldn't see Ryne's face beneath his cap, but she knew that he was raising an eyebrow.

"Cidarius..."

Anna moved on to the next rope. "Who else do we know with golden eyes?"

"You heard that boy." Ryne pulled out a map from his pocket, smoothing it out against the gleaming chestnut bannister. "The sailor could have been confused. There are too many sources; it's hardly a reliable source."

"They're sailing for Lox," Anna said. "Do you know what that means?"

She scurried up a mast. Ryne tipped his head back, shielding his face against the sun; his cheeks were bitten red by the salt air.

"No," Ryne said.

Her fingers worked at a rope. "Yes."

"You're reading into it." Ryne's voice was short. "Lucia attacked their village. They wanted to get out of Wynterlynn; Lox is the nearest option."

"That's part of the reason," Anna allowed. "But not all of it."

Ryne sighed. "What are you saying?"

"They know where God-Slayer is." She shivered, hopping down from the mast. "Someone's found it."

Ryne eyed her. "That's a big jump."

"Thanks," Anna said.

His mouth twitched. "I meant metaphorically."

"I know what you meant." Anna crossed her arms. The saltwater stroked her skin like a cool hand. "I want to go."

Ryne blinked. "What?"

"I want to sail for Lox," Anna said.

His face hardened. "Absolutely not. You're not—"

"Not what?" Anna raised an eyebrow. "Not well enough? This is the healthiest I'm ever going to be, Delafort. You know how this curse goes. I'll only deteriorate."

Ryne looked away. She could see a muscle jumping in his jaw, and he leaned closer to the map, as if he could physically shove her through it. "We'll sail for the Gongo Islands. I'll leave you with Hillsbrook, and then I'll go to Lox and retrieve the sword."

Anna snorted. "You're joking."

"I'm not," Ryne said.

"In what world would I allow that?"

Ryne's smile was tired. "Worth a shot."

"There's no time," Anna said. "If we've heard rumours about God-Slayer..."

Ryne nodded. "Then Lucia will have, too."

"Do you think she's sailing for Lox?"

"I don't see how else she'd get there," Ryne said mildly. "It's an awfully long way to swim."

A sharp burst of laughter escaped her. Anna pressed a hand to her chest. He was good at that, she thought; nobody managed to catch her off guard like Ryne. Their minds were entangled like blades. Attacking. Defending. Whatever metal they'd been forged in, it was the same; perhaps that's why she so rarely anticipated him.

She leaned against the mast. "We've found it."

"We don't know that," Ryne said.

Anna smiled. "Stop pretending you're not happy, Delafort."