He grimaced. “You can’t just end the story there. I need to know what happens next.”
Janel didn’t laugh, but she did take her turn.
Janel’s Turn. Outside the Ice Demesne, Yor, Quur.
“This is my place!” Aeyan’arric screamed as she flew toward me. “You aren’t welcome here, trespasser!”
She loomed even larger than she had in my memories. White and bright with eyes so very blue, a color echoed by her serpentine belly’s aquas and greens, flickering pastel hues like overlapping ice blocks. Aeyan’arric blinded in her brilliance, and yet cast a dark shadow all around her. The waning storm revealed the castle above, glimmering. When Cherthog had built his palace, he had lopped off a mountaintop, building a giant crystal and marble pyramid to sparkle in the sunlight.
Somewhere up there, Veixizhau had tossed me out a balcony, to slide down the side like so much unwanted garbage, to die in the frozen cold.
And somehow, I had survived the fall and the cold, although I suspected I now knew exactly how.
But a tolerance for cold didn’t mean I would survive being ripped apart by claws half my size.
“I’m sorry!” I shouted, because I didn’t know what else to say. “Is there a path back up to the castle? I’ll leave right now.”
She looked at me with those mad azure eyes, her lips pulling back as she opened her mouth. In mere moments, she’d do something I would deeply regret.
I dove to the side, scrambling to find cover. Even as I did, cold air and snow blasted from her direction. I shuddered as I barely escaped being encased in ice. I felt cold. For the first time since waking, I actually felt cold, a trembling I felt down to my bones.
The ice before me shuddered and cracked as her claws slammed into it, ripping huge grooves into the glacier.
Fire, I thought. I needed fire.
Unfortunately, I had nothing to burn except a soaking-wet dress. Veixizhau had taken all my jewelry, from my belt to my jeweled hairpins. We stood on a mountain of frozen water, useless as fuel.
So I’d have one chance, and even then, I could only hope to distract her.
I pulled the dress off my body and tossed it up into the air. It froze solid the moment it left contact with my skin, but that mattered not at all; I made it burn.
The dragon jerked back in surprise, startled.
And during her shocked blink, I ran.
Really, I tripped and slid as the glacier rolled down beneath me in a rather sharp slope. I’m sure I made a ridiculous sight, naked and without weapons. I couldn’t have been more vulnerable.
Which is why running seemed like such a fine idea.
Arasgon would have been proud. Dorna too.
Toward the base of the mountain, the glacier ramped down toward a crevasse. I hoped it would be too narrow for the dragon to follow, although I was still in trouble if she decided to breathe another blizzard in my direction.
But what did I have to lose?
As I listened to Aeyan’arric’s screams, I realized Xaltorath might have had good reason to be upset. I could easily die here while accomplishing nothing. That I’d somehow survived for this long was a miracle.
I ran into the crevasse as Aeyan’arric’s shadow covered me. She was just seconds behind. I tripped and cried out as a sharp ice shard ripped open my shin, proving I possessed no great immunity to normal damage.
Aeyan’arric attempted to claw at me through the opening, but the crevasse indeed proved too narrow. Her efforts gouged huge ice chunks from the opening, until sparks flew as she hit granite. I shuffled backward, leaving a blood trail behind me on the ice to mix with the meltwater left by my passing.
Then the attack stopped. I heard wings beat as she flew away.
I waited.
I didn’t go back to the opening to make sure she’d left. I’m not a fool. But I sat there in the cave for several minutes, listening, naked and shivering from cold that would have slain most people.
Then I heard footsteps. Footsteps from behind me as a warm light cast shadows on the cave wall before me.
I pulled myself up into a crouch.
A woman entered the cave, holding a lantern in one hand and a long, curving sword in the other. Her dark skin had a blue-gray cast, and her black hair was matted into thick, felted wool plaits. She dressed in chain, under a coat of interlocking metal plates. She looked Khorveshan, but more notably, she appeared frozen, with ice rimming her face and snowflakes sparkling on her dark lashes.
She also looked very dead, but that status didn’t seem to be proving an inconvenience.
“Well, then,” the woman said. “What has little Aeyan brought me today? This isn’t a safe place for you, young lady.” She smiled. “Although you living this long is an accomplishment. Especially dressed like that.”2
“Who—” My teeth chattered to speak. “Wh-who are you?”
The dead woman motioned me to follow her. “I’m Xivan Kaen. Now why don’t we find you something to wear.”
* * *
“I thought—” I cleared my throat as I followed the woman deeper into the crevasse, which had in fact turned into a fine cave mouth, no longer ice, but solid rock. “My apologies. I thought—”
“Let me guess. Someone told you Duchess Xivan Kaen had died.” Xivan shrugged. “They didn’t lie to you, now did they? And who are you?” She pulled a scarf from her belt. “For your leg.”
“Janel Theranon,” I said, rubbing my arms. “And thank you.” I bent down to clean the shallow wound and then tied the scarf around my leg. I needed to dress it properly, but this didn’t seem the time.
“And what are you doing here? I’ll admit I don’t mind having visitors, it’s just never happened from this side of the caverns before. You’re lucky sound echoes through the tunnels.”
“I’m afraid one of the duke’s wi—um.” I coughed.
“One of the duke’s wives. I’m aware he’s married others.” She didn’t look amused about the idea.
“Right. I honestly have no idea why she did this. Because she found out—” I paused, unsure if I might reveal too much.
Xivan raised an eyebrow. “You really must learn to finish sentences. She found out what?”
I stared at her. She was Khorveshan. A dead Khorveshan murdered by Yorans, in fact. I therefore didn’t think she’d feel the same way as Yorans about my “unmarried” status. “She found out that I’m not really married. And then she drugged and dumped me outside to freeze to death. I don’t really understand why.”
“Interesting,” Xivan said, “and who are you not really married to?”
I cleared my throat. “Relos Var.”
She chuckled. “Ah yes. Relos Var. I know him of old. In fact, I owe him for this.” Xivan gestured down at herself.
“I thought the Yorans—”
“Oh no. Var didn’t kill me. He brought me back to life, or close enough. And bought himself a duke in the bargain.” She frowned. “I know why you were left outside.” She stopped walking. “It seems one of my husband’s wives is a devotee of the witch-queen Suless.”
“I don’t understand.”
She leaned in close. “Are you doing that on purpose? You’re very … warm.”