“You, of all people, should know that’s not true.” But she blushed a faint rose, like her sweet lips. Oh yeah—he was head over heels for her.
“You have the purest heart of anyone I know,” he told her, meaning every word. And he planned to safeguard that heart like it was made of spun glass.
“Some people might like standing out in a blizzard,” Lena said archly, and she moved past them, “but the smart one is getting in the carriage.” She smiled broadly at Stella and held up four fingers, then folded one down.
“What was that about?” Jak asked as Stella narrowed her eyes at their friend.
“You don’t want to know.” Stella returned her gaze to his with such sweet innocence that he knew something was well and truly up.
“I think I do want to know.”
“Learn to live with the prick of curiosity,” Zeph suggested, sailing past. “Rhy is taking first shift as scout, so Gen and I are riding in the carriage with you.”
Good idea, that, to keep the majority of the shapeshifters with the main group for defense.
Gen paused to eye their clasped hands. “Joining us in the carriage, Jak?”
“Someone has to drive the horses,” he replied, finally releasing Stella’s hand—much as it pained him—and sweeping the ladies a gallant bow. “I live to serve.”
They soon left all sign of the lake behind, the little-used northern road ascending to a harsh and windswept plain. The advantage of the unceasing northwesterly wind was that it scoured the road clear. It also blew snow across in a knee-high blizzard that boiled thick as fog and obscured the ground, regardless of what fell from the sky at any given time. Even Jak’s excellent vision struggled to make out details and keep them off the verge, and after a few hours, his eyes ached from the strain. He had his fur-lined collar pulled up around his ears, a black-knit sailor’s cap pulled down over them, along with his warmest clothes and leather coat—and still the wind sliced him to the bone. He even capitulated and pulled on his fur-lined gloves, though they made him clumsier with his blades, finally deciding that losing his fingers to frostbite would impact his bladework more.
Taking the overland route might not have been his brightest idea.
Astar paced them in grizzly form, carefully staying downwind of the horses—though they were head down and miserable enough that they might not care that much even if they did scent him. A raven tumbled through the winds overhead, mantling its wings to stabilize against a gust, then dove for the seat beside Jak—becoming Rhy as it did.
“Why do people live here?” Rhy demanded, seizing the thick black cloak he’d stowed at the footboard and dragging it on, pulling the hood up around his head, then chafing his hands.
“In point of fact, they don’t,” Jak replied, sweeping a hand at the barren wasteland. “See anything?”
“Snow and wind.”
“Besides that.”
“I’ve forgotten if there’s anything besides that in the entire world.”
“How about the Midway Inn—did you spot it yet?”
“No. I suspect a mossback trick,” Rhy replied grimly. “There is no inn. They’re just luring us out there to die, alone, in a frozen wasteland.”
“You’re not alone,” Jak noted. “You have us.”
Rhy slanted him a dark-blue glare. “When we’re trapped in our snow cave, slowly starving to death, I’m eating you first.”
“You can try,” Jak answered cheerfully. “But it would be smarter to get one of the shapeshifters to become something like a bison. The meat would last a lot longer. Taste better, too.”
“True,” Rhy mused. “You’re a stringy fucker.”
Jak patted his flat abs. “Clean living.”
Rhy barked a laugh at that, and Jak reined up. Not like they’d find a better place to stop. “I’ll check the horses while you pry the next shift out of the carriage.”
Nodding, Rhy hopped down, and Jak went around to the horses’ heads. Ice had collected on their muzzles, so he stripped off his gloves and warmed the tender muzzle of one with his palms. Stella appeared through the swirling snow, the white cloak making her look like a manifestation of the landscape, her clear gray eyes standing out against her pale skin.
“Can I help?” she asked, observing his actions. “We don’t want your magic blade-throwing hands getting frostbite.”
“If the ice collects over their nostrils, they can’t breathe,” he explained. “The cold already wears them out faster; not be able to breathe well makes it worse.”
“I have an idea.” She pulled off her own gloves and mimicked his actions, melting the accumulated ice off the other horse’s muzzle. The mare lifted her head, nuzzling Stella and bumping her chest, a delighted smile lighting Stella’s face. She so rarely looked that way, always so solemn, with a shadow behind her eyes. Lifting her hands, she spread a glow of green-threaded rosy light over the mare. Then she nudged him aside and did the same with Jak’s gelding. The pair of horses stamped in place, their lustrous eyes brighter.
“What did you do?” he asked, taking the opportunity to put his arms around Stella from behind, putting his face beside hers. With her thick cloak, he could hardly feel her, but it was worth it to be close enough to inhale the fragrance of night-blooming flowers from her heated skin.
She stayed still, not withdrawing, still focused on the gelding. “A bit of healing to restore their energy. A bit of sorcery to make a bubble of warmth around them.”
“Can you sustain that?” he asked, concerned.
“With the Star, yes,” she replied after checking that Rhy was out of earshot. “For the rest of the day anyway.”
She turned in the loose circle of his arms, her mouth temptingly close. Lifting her hands, she framed his face, sliding her fingers over his beard, tingling warmth following. She stroked his earlobes, tugging lightly on his earring in a most stimulating way, and he closed his eyes, humming in pleasure at her touch. “I think you’re the one with the magic hands,” he murmured.
“I should’ve thought to do this before,” she replied in a worried tone. “You’re very cold.”
“Feeling warmer now.” He opened his eyes and grinned at her. “Besides, this is like a midsummer day in Dasnaria.”
She breathed a laugh, still massaging his earlobes in that most interesting manner. “Even I know it’s not always winter in Dasnaria.”
“You’re toasty warm,” he observed, pressing her against him just a bit more.
“Zeph took tiger form, and we all piled together against her under the blankets.” A wistful smile curved her pretty pink lips. “Like being kids again.”
“Sounds fun.”
“Maybe you should take a break, let Rhy or Astar drive and come warm up.”
“I’m feeling refreshed now. I’ll let Rhy ride inside. I think his raven form didn’t handle this weather well.”
“You’re a thoughtful guy, Jak.” She said it sincerely, but the faintest hint of surprise had him cocking his head at her.
“I’m heading out,” Gen said as she passed them. “Finish exchanging your sweet nothings because everyone is ready to roll again. Once I get out of scent range of the horses, I’m going for polar bear form. I’ll run ahead to find this Midway Inn Rhy is bitching about being a trap.”