Thread of Frost

Ch. 44: Over Everything

Penny rushed to the lake.

Black sand shifted under her feet. She was dimly aware of Grayson speaking, telling her to be careful, but his words sounded faraway. Blood roared in her ears. God-Slayer rested on a thick slab of rock; the sword was made of gold, so bright and blazing that it looked like a beam of pure sunlight.

Grayson moved beside her, surveying the water; his eyes reflected the lake, a melting pot of blue and gold.

"What do you think?" Penny asked. "Do we swim across?"

He held out a hand. "Give me your muffin."

"What?"

"Your blueberry muffin," Grayson said. "Give it to me." He paused. "Please."

Penny raised an eyebrow. She personally thought this was a very strange time for a snack, but who was she to judge? She withdrew the muffin. Grayson considered the pastry, turning it over in his hands. Then he cocked his arm back and threw it into the lake.

The muffin struck the water. Acid burned the bobbing pastry, dissolving it in seconds.

Penny frowned. "I was going to eat that."

"We can't swim," Grayson announced.

"Seriously." She looked up at him. "You could have used your shoe."

Grayson shrugged. "I like my shoes."

"I liked my blueberry muffin." Penny drew a circle in the black sand with her foot. "We could go back. Bring a boat."

Grayson stared at the water. He was wearing the same expression that he got when he was standing on a ship deck, trying to assess which way the wind was blowing. Grayson moved closer to the lake.

She looked up. "Grayson?"

He was frowning slightly, rubbing his tattoo. The swirling loops seemed to pulsate slightly, although that could have been a trick of the light.

Penny touched his arm. "Gray?"

"Something's coming," Grayson murmured. "I can sense it."

She raised an eyebrow. "Something good, or something bad?"

"Something old," Grayson said.

Penny scanned the lake. The water lapped at the shore with a gentle tongue, stirred by some phantom breeze. A shiver slid down her spine. She felt like she was standing in the skeleton of some ancient predator, waiting to hear a heartbeat.

There was a splash.

Penny stumbled back. The water churned, frothing at the mouth like a rabid dog. Grayson flung out a hand to shield her. Something broke through the surface, wet and glistening, reflecting the glittering eyes of the gemstones. A glass bridge, Penny realized, her heartbeat slowing; they were looking at a glass bridge.

Slowly, Grayson lowered his hand.

"There are words." He nodded at the bridge. "On the railing."

Penny sighed. "I hope it's not another rhyme."

Grayson stepped closer. When he looked up, his expression was grim. "It's a rhyme."

"Bugger," Penny said glumly.

Grayson cleared his throat.

An honest thief will seize the sword;

a heart's musician plucks the chord;

for secrets make a muddled head;

and falsehoods make a lonely bed

Penny studied the acidic lake. The cave smelled of damp stone and sulfur, mixing with the harsh soap she'd used in the cottage. Not an unpleasant scent, exactly, but not ideal. It would be a shame to die here, Penny thought; there were far better things to smell when one was dying. Maribel's sweetbread, for example. Old parchment. Candied orange peels and cinnamon. Even wet horse would be preferable.