Ashes of Snow

Chapter 25

THE CLOSER WE get to Lorgen's palace, the more my relief and amazement fade. This is the moment I've feared since I arrived, when Lorgen will torture me into submission. He'll make me beg for death until I tell him how I brought down the ramps, how I healed that boy, and when I don't explain it—can't explain it, at least not the boy—he'll make Cain break me.

A shiver eats up my insides. No, I'm not afraid of Cain. I'm not afraid of Cain. I'm not afraid. But Lorgen will kill me before I talk to Nesta again. Before I can do anything else to help them, maybe even save them. And after seeing what happened to the boy...

I want to dissolve in a fit of incredulous laughter as the soldiers pull me through Abril. The boy is all right. Even as I think it, shock chases away my need to laugh, snuffing it out like a candle getting sucked up into wind.

How did I do that?

Nesta, Cressen, and Troy look up from their work in Lorgen's garden as we pass. Nesta's expression flashes from numb to panicked in two blinks, her body coiling with helpless realization.

She surges toward me but Troy stops her, wraps his arms around her as he whispers something quick and low in her ear.

Cressen sees me too, his glare dangerously dark. I tear my eyes away from him before I can see his disappointment, before his eyes tell me, I knew you would die too.

I won't die. Not today. Not after what happened, what I did, what I can do for them. But what can I do for them? I don't even know how I did it, where it came from—I healed the boy. I healed him.

"Leave us."

Lorgen's voice ricochets around the throne room. A group of high-ranking advisers stands huddled around his dais, the black suns and gold trim on their uniforms gleaming in the filtered light from the holes above. They turn away at his command, all eyes falling on the battered Winterian girl two of his soldiers drag down the long walk to the throne.

One of the advisers is Cain. He smirks and eyes his king like he's asking for permission, but Lorgen's voice booms out again.

"I said leave us."

The advisers gather the papers they had scattered on tables around Lorgen's dais and file out through various doors. I'm left draped between the two soldiers at the base of the dais. Lorgen leans back in his throne, one hand as usual clutching his staff. His green eyes are sharp and deadly, and he stares at me as if I'm a prized dog he's considering buying.

"Report," he growls.

The soldier on my right snaps to attention. "She brought down the work ramp at the wall and killed and injured many of our men. She also—" He stops, his eyes darting to my face and pulling away like I might strike him dead with just a stare. "She healed a slave."

My lungs refuse to let in more air, tightening like they know how hopeless it is to continue breathing. I don't know what I am, what I can do, but Lorgen will torture me until he either finds out or I die.

Lorgen stands. "Dismissed," he says. Both soldiers spin away, the sound of their boots on the obsidian floor fading into silence. The doors shut behind them.

It's just Lorgen and me now. Lorgen and me and the dull, empty thudding of my pulse echoing off the heavy black rock of the throne room. I tighten every muscle against the fear in the back of my mind. No matter what happens, no matter what he does, I am part of the bigger current of Winter, and that is something he can never take from me.

Lorgen's fingers play idly on his staff. "Brought down a ramp, did you? And healed a slave?" His face is impassive, and that lack of emotion is somehow more terrifying than anything else. I surprised him. And he doesn't like being surprised.