Valka lowered Cenric's limp form onto the frigid floor of the cave, a hidden refuge she'd nearly missed, mindfully maneuvering him as to avoid jostling his injured shoulder. The putrid smell of the wound was thick in the stagnant air, filling the narrow chamber with the stench of decay. It was even worse than she'd thought.
She flinched as he let out an unconscious cry of anguish as she adjusted the mangled arm.
Well, at least it meant he wasn't dead, though if the iciness of his body was any indication, she was surprised he hadn't become a corpse already. A minute or two longer in that ruthless frozen wasteland would have spelt his doom.
If it hadn't already.
The raging ice storms had returned full force the moment the sun dipped below the horizon, roiling winter clouds appearing and spewing frozen rain like a goddess of death across the already barren land.
It'd been a miracle Valka had been able to navigate it.
A miracle even that neither of them had stumbled upon a monster in the blinding storm.
She wouldn't have even found this shelter had it not been for the white-tailed hawk that kept conveniently circling overheard and crying out as she had raced through the darkness, leading her like a blind man through the night. She'd narrowly avoided the lurking predators, cursing each time she heard rustling in the dense wood.
With each passing moment Cenric had grown more still against her shoulder, his already ashen skin turning an alarming shade of greyish-blue as she stumbled through the shadows, praying whatever beast was lurking nearby didn't pick up the trail of blood dripping from the male's shoulder.
Stupid of him to think he could face so many on his own.
Foolish of him to have allowed them to herd him like a hunted fox, cornering him in a canyon of death.
He'd be lucky if he ever used the shoulder again, blessed if gangrene didn't set in and steal not only the arm but the entire joint.
Fortunate that he hadn't already become an icicle.
Faecicle?
She shook the ridiculous thought from her head, trying to ignore the chattering of her own teeth.
For his idiocy she didn't think he'd deserve any less. A beautiful body forever preserved in the ice—
She grumbled. That wasn't acceptable.
The cold was draining her, fogging her mind and jumbling her thoughts.
Valka shook her head and gathered herself, returning her attention to the male before her. She'd need to warm him, and quickly.
Grimacing, she unclipped the top of her leathers from her neck, shivering more in the chill cave air with each clasp that came free, her skin prickling beneath the thin wool of her undershirt.
Damn the bastard for making her sacrifice her only protection against the cold.
Curse him for ruining her plan, for stopping her from doing what she needed-
She slipped out of the warm garment and spread it carefully across Cenric, the petite top barely enough to cover his broad chest and shoulders.
The fur-lined leather would have to do until she could get back.
She'd need supplies to build a fire and herbs to pack the wound, herbs potent enough to stop the bloodbane's leeching. She'd never been very knowledgeable when it came to poisons, the vague lessons she'd been schooled in hazy at best in the depths of her memory.
Glancing towards the cave entrance she shuddered viciously, the thought of venturing out into the storm in nothing but her undershirt highly unappealing, especially with her chances of finding what she needed near none.
Still, she had a feeling that a certain bird would be more that useful in helping her find them.
As expected, the hawk was waiting huddled in a gnarled tree nearby when Valka ventured outside of the cave, the icy winds tearing at her thin shirt as she wrapped her arms around herself in a vain attempt to to stave off the cold. If only her wings had been unbound, they at least would have provided some protection.
Upon noticing her, the bird ruffled its feathers and shot off into the blistering winds, soaring towards the east, likely where the river flowed beneath a bed of ice.
Valka gave one glance back towards the cave entrance, considering if Cenric would be all right alone.
Not that she had much choice in the matter.
Shuddering again in the wind, she tried to ignore the deep shadows that concealed the cave entrance, an impenetrable darkness that even the most skilled of predators would struggle to detect. She suspected where that darkness leeched from.
It would have to do.
Digging her heels into the snow she shot off after the calling bird, watching it weave to and fro above her.
He was nothing but a phantom on the wind, drifting in the endless sea of existence, watching as the world rolled away beneath him in an ever-gliding blur of gold, green and blue. The gales twisted him in their gallop, tossing and turning him through a whirl of scents and sounds as they danced through the sky.
He was dead.
Or at least he thought he was.
The world had never been so abstract, so impossible to touch. His reeling should have been dizzying but he only found himself curious, calm even, as he flew through the pale sky. As though someone guided his way.
Where would the Mother lead him?
He couldn't remember his name, couldn't remember who he was.
He barely felt it as the gales dropped from beneath him and send him tumbling down, down, down towards the depthless blue below, to the speck of emerald in an ocean of azure. Barely felt it as his being cascaded into a woven basket, so very small and pale.
Exhilaration filled him as he found himself upright, sunlight dappled through the heavy green canopy above, the world bright and new as only a child might see it.
Lush, twisting emerald vines pulled at his feet as he skittered around the base of a broad tree, a giggle passing his lips, gold flashing in his peripherals. He knew she was there, he only had to twirl about the tree and rush towards the bubbling stream-
No, it wasn't him.
It was the mind of someone else, the view through someone else's eyes.
A child's eyes, seeing the world through a soft, sweeping gaze.
A presence so familiar, one that had always danced at the edge of his mind, one whose company had always been there even if he'd never realized it.
A whisper of something so ingrained in his very being it came as natural as breathing, a bond impossible to snap—
The hunger in the pit of her stomach suddenly hit him, an agonizing emptiness that sent him reeling. It'd been three days since she'd eaten, they'd taken to playing in the woods to forget it, to drown out the gnawing sensation of starvation—
Her thoughts diverted away from the pain, onto something sweeter, something better.
That softness called to him, bid him to linger, to watch and become.
So he did.
Valka's teeth were beyond chattering by the time she reached the river's frozen edge, her eyelashes coated so thickly with ice she had to brush it away to see. She'd long since gone numb, all memory of warmth leeched from her arms and face, her fingers like blocks of stone as she struggled to flex them.
The hawk had disappeared several minutes ago, fluttering into the dense wood where she couldn't see its descent as the snow flurries died away.
So, she'd followed it by scent alone.
Stepping through the copse of trees she finally spotted the bird, perched on a branch overhead watching her intently, as though it willed her to see.
She glanced around, nothing but a thick layer of fresh snow visible along the banks of the river, only the shriveled remains of plants and frozen bark stark against the white background. Even the rush of the water was nearly silenced beneath the sheet of ice.
Nothing that she could sense would be of any use to Cenric—
Her eyes snagged on a small cluster of pink-flowered weeds peeking up through the snow, resilient things to be alive in the throes of the storms, and a pile of dark wood sitting atop the snow in the shadow of a tree.
She quirked a brow and glanced toward the hawk, which was now studiously ignoring her.
Shaking her head, Valka picked through the weeds and wood, surprised to see that they were dry. She would have never found this on her own.
With a sigh, she bent and collected the supplies, tucking the wood under one arm and shoving the weeds into a pocket of her pants. Gazing up at the tree once more, she pitched her voice so the hawk above could hear her, sarcasm coating her tone.
"Thank you, oh wise Forest Spirit," she bowed mockingly at the bird, "who just happens to smell distinctly like my High Lady—"
The hawk froze in the tree above her, its eyes comically large. Valka only sent it a knowing look. She'd known of Feyre's presence since her arrival at the canyon, had caught wind of her scent the second she'd thrust that ash arrow into Durek's remaining eye.
"You really think I didn't notice?" she inquired blandly, watching as the bird ruffled its feathers before gliding down from the tree and shifting before her.
I'd been caught red handed.
Rising from my kneeling position before my sister's lieutenant I tried to keep neutrality on my features, even as my body quivered in fear as precious minutes slipped past.
"How."
"You didn't bother shifting your scent."
Shame flooded me as I realized the critical mistake I'd made, the amateur move that would cost Cenric everything, all because of my reckless panic-
My eyes landed on Valka. She knew of my presence. She could destroy everything, send my son's shot at the Rite crumbling. Without thinking, I dove for my daemati powers, wrangling them upwards. Wiping her mind would be easy enough—
My power slammed against a shield of grey stone, thick as it was tall, impenetrable, exactly like Nesta's—
"Don't even try it," she hissed, her eyes narrowing.
My power recoiled in shock, twisting in surprise as a throb of pain lanced through my skull, the cold wind harsh against my face.
Shifting the supplies in her arms, the female looked at me like I was the most foolish person she'd ever laid eyes on, impatience on her sharp features.
"I have no intention of telling anyone about your presence here." My power flickered in surprise, uncertain how to proceed. "Lucky for you, no one else who could have sensed you is alive any longer."
A shudder shook her frame as her voice tremored.
It took me a long moment to realize she was without a jacket, was shivering in the cold as she stood before me, her thin shirt no protection against the whipping winds.
I knew instantly where her jacket had gone.
"Why?"
She rolled her eyes at me this time. "Did you really think Nesta would let him walk into this without someone watching his back?"
The words filtered through my mind, realization seeping in.
He hadn't been alone.
It was too late to turn back now and Cenric needed attention, quickly.
"Here." I pulled a small vial from my pocket, thanking the Mother I'd thought to bring it as a precaution, then slipped a knife from my belt and ran it across my wrist. The red droplets steamed in the icy air as I allowed them to drip into the vial. "Give this to him, it contains the healing power of Dawn. It can combat the bloodbane."
Valka only watched me curiously before nodding and taking the vial.
"I will keep away anyone – or anything- that tries to attack you. Just take care of him." My stomach clenched in fear as I tightened my cloak around me. ". . . Thank you."
Valka only shook her head, still shivering.
"You need to go back into hiding, there may be no one else here now who will call foul play but you can't avoid everyone forever." Tucking the supplies under her arm she turned to face me once more, her mouth twisting in amusement as she cast a glance over my shoulder. "You might also want to explain yourself to the shadowsinger."
It was the gasp and fluttering of the little lord's eyelashes that had a breath of relief slipping from Valka's lips.
He'd gone completely still and blue while she'd left him and she'd tried to rouse him numerous times before he'd finally sucked in a substantial breath.
Despite the High Lady's recklessness, she was glad that Feyre still sat somewhere outside where she had accompanied her back to their resting spot. No doubt the shadowsinger along with her.
She imagined they'd exchanged a tense conversation in her absence, one she was glad she hadn't bore witness too.
Instead, she needed to pour her full concentration into trying to patch the male's shoulder. She didn't have the time to keep watch.
The cave seemed pleasantly warm compared to the bitter winds outside, but Valka still shivered violently as she pulled away from him, evaluating the tools she'd laid out before her. They would somehow have to work to patch him up. Makeshift twine she'd made from the gut of a deer killed days before, the hide dried to a rough waterskin she'd strung between two branches and dropped hot stones in to make the liquid boil, and a poorly carved needle she'd whittled down from a small shard of bone.
A poor array of medic's tools to begin with, even in skilled hands, and she was certainly no healer. She could only hope the Lord's son wouldn't be left with too terrible of scarring once the mending was complete.
That was if her hands could quit shaking long enough for her to even begin.
With the Lady and shadowsinger somewhere keeping watch, she'd risked a fire, small but notable, its faint light illuminating the cave walls in flickering hues of orange. It had yet to thaw her frozen form.
Shoving her hands close to the flames she willed them to warm, she needed to work and quickly.
She'd evaluated the male's wound and cursed when she'd seen the state of the skin puckered around the arrow's entry point, the coloring sickening and greasy. It had already begun to turn black around the edges, the tissue nearly peeling away from the arrow's shaft.
Black was bad.
Really bad.
Nesta owed her ten times over.
Pulling her hands away from the fire she willed the shaking from them as she carefully rolled Cenric to the side, gripping the tip of the arrow where it poked from the back of his shoulder. She braced her hand against the wood, ignoring its wrongness, and snapped the head of the arrow off. With one swift movement, she yanked the other end free, a cry of torture slipping past his lips as he fell back against the cave floor.
Oily, dark blood welled from the wound, pooling sluggishly on the stone.
Cursing, Valka ripped her undershirt off and pressed it hard onto the injury, willing the bleeding to stop. Maintaining the pressure with one hand, she popped the cap from the vial free with the other and pressed it to his lips.
Feeding the boy his mother's blood made Valka's skin crawl, but she had no other choice in the matter.
The scarlet stained his lips as she forced his mouth closed, making him swallow. Once empty, she tossed the vial to the side and pressed both of her hands back to the wound.
Almost instantly color began to flood the male's face. Valka tried not to sigh too audibly. Within minutes the blood flow beneath her hands had faded. Removing the shirt, she let out a low whistle of appreciation as she watched the wound begin to knit itself, slowly.
Too slowly.
The concoction they'd consumed to drain their magic was still working to prevent the full power of the lady's blood to heal him then. Valka hissed and immediately set to work.
Pulling the pink-flowered weeds from the pile, she dumped them into the hot water skin, allowing them to brew.
Casting a glance toward the darkness outside the mouth of the cave, she reached into her boot and pulled free a fine, silver stiletto she'd managed to sneak past the brutish warriors when they'd patted her down before dropping her off. It was a small thing, useful only in close proximity.
An assassin's weapon.
It had been a gift from him, years ago, and she'd cherished it from the moment he'd given it to her, her only means to protect herself in his absence.
He was the only reason she was here, playing this game of treachery, playing a role of dog and loyal soldier to obtain the end she knew they both had so desperately desired.
She glanced at the sharp blade in her hand, weighing it gently in her palm.
A weapon is only as strong as the person who wields it. Give it precision and purpose.
His words, clear as they had been when he'd told her that rang in her mind, the memory of his eyes glinting as he'd handed her the tiny blade replaying again and again.
The only person she'd ever truly been loyal to.
She eyed Cenric's throat, watched the way his pulse flickered faintly in the fire light. He'd come so close to ruining everything she'd carefully laid out over months.
And now being so close to being able to end it, to reveal the truth of everything . . .
She flipped the blade in her hand, its wicked, deadly edge singing. Its purpose was to kill-but to use it to scrape away rotted tissue? It would do.
The dirty, torn pale dress swished about her knees as she twirled about the base of another tree, launching forwards towards gurgling stream, her grimy bare feet pattering against the soft forest floor. Nimbly, she hopped over moss-covered rocks as she chased the sound of snapping twigs.
I'll catch her! Her voice chimed light and sweet in her mind, She won't outrace me this time!
Exhilaration that only a child could feel flooded her, sending melancholy dancing through his being, a sense of longing that consumed him.
Longing for what?
Where was he? What was he?
He couldn't be bothered to remember. He could stay here forever, watching the world through this familiar child's eyes-
The girl stumbled over a set of low branches before sliding down behind a low bush, peeking through the sun splattered leaves, searching—
There she is! her thoughts chimed as she poised to pounce—
He saw nothing, only a bubbling stream.
I've got her!
Where was she? Why couldn't he see whoever she was?
Without warning a force slammed into him, sending flying free of the child's body, darkness blotting out the emerald forest as fire, molten and raging consumed him. A scream worked its way free of him, a cry of pain as he struggled away from the flames.
He wanted to return to the vision, to that sense of familiarity-
The pain was drowning him, the sight of the child gone in the distance as reality gripped him, dragging him bitterly through the darkness, like claws tearing through his very essence, pulsing through his torso-
Cenric, wake up, you stubborn ass fool-
Cenric.
My name is Cenric.
Memories slammed into him as he was dragged up and away from the serene kaleidoscope dream, up, up and up into the inky darkness that loomed above him, a cold harsh reality he didn't want to see-
Pain laced through Cenric as he woke, his body convulsing against the hard ground as a face swam into focus above him, locks of dark hair framing a feminine face.
"Celeste?" he murmured, willing the face to focus, willing those violet eyes to be peering owlishly down at him.
Was he dead? Was this where the end of existence lead to? It was terribly cold and painful if so—
"Not even close, pretty boy." A hand slapped him none-too-gently on the face several times, rousing him further. "You need wake up so you can drink this foul-smelling concoction, I'm not going to risk you choking on this while you snooze away like some sleeping maiden—"
Recognition settled over him.
The large almond eyes and soft feminine face he had expected faded away to angled, stony orbs and sharp, bird-like features. Nothing like the sister he had expected to find in the afterlife.
Was this the afterlife?
"Valka?" His voice cracked as he spoke, flinching at the dryness of his throat. Where was he? What had happened? His eyes widened as the memories of the days before began to slink in, coming to life one by one. Durek's deceit, the ash arrows dipped in bloodbane, the agonizing pain before he'd slipped to unconsciousness.
"The one and only." The female's sharp face moved out of view as she straightened, her Illyrian leathers buttoned up to her throat. Casting a glance down at him, she read the questions racing through his mind. "And before you ask, no, you're not dead but you certainly gave it your best shot. No, none of them made it, and no, the Rite's not over yet." She flipped her wind-whipped braid over a shoulder, grey eyes bright in the fire. "Does that cover it?"
He nodded his head once, his vision swimming as he tried to right himself. Moving his shoulder, he was met with a stabbing pain that had him immediately settling against the freezing floor again. The joint still burned to high heavens.
How was he still alive?
What had that dream even been about? Who had that little girl been?
Why was Valka here of all people?
"I-"
"Ah-ah, no talking." Valka knelt next to him as she cut him off, a crude water skin in her hands. "Here, drink this, all of it. Now."
She didn't give him the chance to protest as she tipped the water skin and forced the warm liquid down his throat, the acrid taste nearly making him gag. Once empty, she pulled the flask away, watching him with sharp eyes.
"You need to leave that joint immobile as long as possible." She settled next to him, her inky hair gleaming in the bright light of the fire. "We've a long way to travel if we plan to best these bastards before the end of the Rite."
"I don't need your help." Annoyance filtered through at the thought of being assisted, this had been his task, not anyone else's. His head swam and the room began to spin, his body suddenly unbearably hot.
There was still bloodbane in his system.
"I'm not going to even grace that with a response."
"Why are you even here?" He tried to sound harsh but it only came out as a broken grunt, his throat raw. A stench of blood filled his nostrils catching his attention. Glancing around, his eyes snagged on a discarded fabric to his right, the once creamy material now blood-soaked and grimy. Hidden in the shadows of the fire to the left lay a discarded vial-
"Because an illustrious forest spirit offered me gold and riches beyond my wildest dreams if I helped you," the female snorted and smirked, "and virgins. Offered me as many virgins as I could carry if I agreed to save your sorry, pathetic ass, so I came."
Annoyance danced through Cenric as he attempted to shoot her a dirty look, but to no avail. His heart still thundered in his chest but he at least felt . . . whole. Sleep was tugging at him.
"Whatever," he mumbled, feeling himself being lost to consciousness as his eyes fluttered, the pain fading away to a dull ache as he plummeted towards sleep. Maybe he could return to that dream of the little girl playing tag on the island, could return to a place that wasn't so hell-infested.
Could ignore the scent he'd undeniably caught from that vial.
He'd nearly fallen on to sleep when Valka's voice piped up again, all sarcastic notes gone.
"Cenric," Valka's voice echoed somewhere near him as his vision darkened, suddenly sounding very small, so different from the female he'd come to know in the Illyrian camp. Was he dreaming again? Hallucinating as the poison worked its way free from his system? In the few words they'd exchanged previously, he couldn't recall her ever calling him by his name. He struggled to listen. "There is something I desperately need to tell you, without any listening ears—"
His senses failed him as darkness won and dragged him deep into the depths of slumber.