Thread of Ash and Fire

Ch. 23: There Is Only You

This, Isaac thought, had to be exactly what hell felt like.

He adjusted the reins. Shivering trees bent closer to one another, like children huddling for warmth; they'd passed the Lucernian border about two miles back, but the weather was only slightly milder here. Frozen grass crunched beneath his horse's hooves, and he could see stone chimneys puffing smoke in the distance.

Not that it was the weather that was bothering him.

"We should stop," Camille said. "We're losing the sunlight."

She sat stiffly on her horse, her gaze fixed straight ahead. Isaac couldn't see her eyes beneath the netted veil on her black hat, but he could tell by her voice that she was frowning. He took a deep breath.

"Camille..."

Her hands tightened on the reins. "Yes?"

Isaac looked out at the bitter, frozen landscape and felt a strange pang of longing. What if he just moved to one of these villages? What if he hid from the faeries indefinitely? Surely nobody would be able to find him here.

He turned, words forming on the tip of his tongue.

I'm sorry that I didn't come to your rooms the other night.

I'm sorry that I entered an idiotic bargain with the prince of faerie and now I'm a slave to the evil goddess that once possessed you.

I'm sorry.

Isaac looked away. The words died in his throat.

"There's an inn," Isaac said instead. "On the outskirts of the village. The White Hare." He nudged his horse towards the village. "Let's stop there."

Camille looked away. "Whatever you'd like."

They rode in silence. By the time they reached the White Hare, the sky had turned the colour of bruised plums; the air was heavy with rain, and Isaac steered his horse beneath a tree, squinting up at the black clouds. Yup. Definitely a storm rolling in. Camille made to slide off the horse, and he shook his head.

"Stay here," Isaac said. "I'll be back in a moment."

Camille nodded.

Isaac pushed his way through the door. The White Hare was one of the nicer inns he'd been to; a large fire crackled in the hearth, and yellow lanterns swung from the rafters. Someone was playing a jaunty tune on the piano while other patrons milled nearby, singing as they waved pints of ale.

He crossed to the bar, where an elderly man handed him two sets of keys with impressive efficiency. Which was just as well, Isaac thought, glancing towards the door; he didn't want to leave Camille alone for long.

When Isaac returned, Camille was sitting on a large boulder, her pale ankles peeking out from beneath her black dress. Rain dripped off the brim of her hat, although if it bothered her, she didn't show it. The woods had blurred into an oil painting, smudges of moss green and sage and ochre.

"I put the horses in the stables," Camille said, gesturing. "Just there."

Alarm shot through him. "By yourself? Someone could have recognized you."

She pursed her lips. "I was careful."

"You should have waited for me," Isaac said. "I would have done it."

"I don't need—" Camille stared at the ground. "Never mind." She rose, and Isaac darted forward to grab the saddlebags. "You have the key?"

He nodded. "Follow me."