Of Whispers and Daggers ✓ [TLRQ #2]

Chapter 65 - Idyne

I shiver in the snow-dusted wind. The voices whisper nonstop, a low hiss like the breeze through bare trees. The long sleeves of the dress Alaar let me transform mine into aren't enough to keep out the cold, and I huddle against the tree we're camped under. After I did that spell, he took all my materials, and my wrists are raw from the twine he keeps tied around them. Right now, the other end is tied to the tree. It's the same twine I bound his wrists and fingers with.

He sits on the other side, where the trunk blocks the worst of the wind. We're headed back toward Kadran. He's more talkative than he used to be, and I wonder if it's because he no longer believes me capable of crossing him or because not being able to complete the commands I gave him within that time frame drove him even madder. The voices laugh before continuing their murmurs and hissing.

There are more shamans. The band that we used to travel and work with isn't the only one; we're headed to meet up with the group that stayed in the capital for the war. Stupid. Anger and shame burn in my gut. This is why he didn't kill himself—he couldn't kill all the shamans, and he couldn't die until he had done so. I should have thought of the possibility, but I didn't, and now I'm his again. Still, I can't imagine how mentally painful it must have been to bide his time until the last day of the spell and ignore the urge to kill himself anyway.

My teeth chatter, and I bury my freezing face into my knees. I shift so that my back is more toward the wind.

I still don't know what that hunk of starmetal the shamans used to lug around was for, and I haven't gotten up the courage to ask. He doesn't have it anymore, though. I don't think he's happy about that.

The wind gusts. When it dies down, I glance around the trunk. The shaman's thick, winter cloak cocoons him.

"Master?" I murmur around the tree.

He doesn't respond.

Gathering my courage, I say again, "Master."

"What, witch?" he bites.

I wince, and the voices echo "Witch!", overlapping and entwining with each other. When their volume lowers again, I muster, "Can I please come to that side? I'm going to freeze to death here."

"Then die."

My throat stings. "If you wanted me dead, you would have killed me on the battlefield."

"Stupid child."

He doesn't speak again, but he doesn't deny me either, so I work my way around, fighting to shift the loop of twine to follow me. I sit down again, huddled against him. He growls. I don't move. I still feel snowflakes dropping on my arm, melting through to my skin.

Alaar shifts, and one side of his cloak drops around me. His warmth immediately washes over me, and I scoot closer. My tormentor's arm around me, I drift into sleep.