Thread of Frost

Ch. 52: Homecoming

Anna stood overlooking the frozen cliffs.

Morning sunlight broke over the water, turning it into frothy butter. She could see a hundred dark figures marching along the coastline, their backs braced against the sharp breeze. Halson's men. Twenty ships cut through the water like fins of a shark, carrying Eris and Vulcan and sunhounds. Lucia would be standing on one of them. Anna wondered if she was looking back at them, too.

Ryne shielded his eyes. He was dressed in silver armour, a velvet cloak slung over his shoulders. He held out something lumpy.

"Cheese?" he offered.

Anna raised an eyebrow. "Depends what type."

"Oh." Ryne glanced at it. "Blue cheese, I think. Or maybe it's just mouldy."

"I can't believe you're eating cheese," Grayson muttered.

He rubbed at his tattoo. His blond hair stuck up in odd clumps, and there was sleep dust under his eyes. A dragon circled overhead, and Grayson frowned, shielding his eyes against the bright sun to get a better look. Ryne shrugged.

"What?" He bit into the cheese. "I'm hungry."

"He is," Penny confirmed. "I couldn't fall asleep last night. I could feel how hungry he was from like, five tents over."

Grayson sighed. "I would have chosen something else for a last meal."

"Like what?" Ryne asked.

"I don't know." Grayson scratched the back of his neck. "Steak? A massive slice of cake? Six barrels of wine?"

"Well," Ryne said, "I wanted cheese."

Anna massaged her stomach. Her lungs burned with the cold air, and pain pulsed in her chest like a second heart. Slaine had given her something that morning — a phial that tasted of burnt summer grass — but it had yet to take effect. Possibly, Anna thought, it wouldn't take effect; her condition was growing worse.

She looked back. Two dozen people waited in the frozen field, wielding axes and swords and throwing knives. Isolde moved towards the medical tent, her pale face frightened but determined; Julian escorted her, wearing a calm expression that promised a swift death to anyone that came too close.

"We're outnumbered," Anna said, her voice low.

Ryne didn't take his eyes from the cliffs. "We have dragons."

"She has sunhounds."

"Yes," Ryne said. "But sunhounds can't fly and breathe fire."

A sharp pain pierced her lung. Anna balled her hands into fists, staring out at the frozen water. She could feel Ryne's heavy gaze.

"You look terrible," he said.

Her smile was humourless. "Cheers, Delafort."

"How are you feeling?"

Anna turned. "Like shit."

Ryne nodded. His green eyes were the colour of spring apples, the only colour in the frozen landscape. Anna waited for him to say that she didn't have to fight, or to promise that it would be okay, but he didn't, of course. This was Ryne.

"Have the cheese," Ryne said. "It'll help."

Anna took the cheese, popping it into her mouth. She closed her eyes. The world faded to a collection of sensations — the tangy creaminess of the cheese, the hard metal of God-Slayer in her hand, the cold wind ruffling her hair — and she took a deep breath. Sophie, she thought, Henry; wherever you are, I love you.