Thread of Ash and Fire

Ch. 5: Hate That I Want You

Anna couldn't look at him.

Ryne walked beside her, his steps long and unhurried. His green eyes were the colour of spring buds. He looked calm, which only irritated her more. He could, Anna thought bitterly, have the decency to appear afraid of her. She took a sharp left, stopping halfway down the corridor to wrench open a door.

Ryne raised an eyebrow. "In here?"

Anna nodded.

He stepped into the infirmary. The black-and-white floor was tiled, and Anna paused on a white square, a rook on a chessboard. Twelve white beds lined the walls, and the scent of wood polish and dust hung in the air. Memories caught like bits of old wool on a barbed wire fence, fluttering softly in the breeze. She'd met Camille in this room, Anna recalled. This was where she'd met Teagan — Ryne's youngest cousin — for the first time, too.

It felt like a lifetime ago.

Anna pulled open another door. Ryne went through.

Anna blinked in the dim light. Ryne's sickroom felt smaller than she remembered. The narrow bed swallowed most of the space, and the smell of old draughts and dusty books was suffocating. The tome on horse breeding — new, unused — still lay open on the desk. Anna skimmed her hand over a drawing of a motherless foal.

Anna turned. "I want to help them."

Her voice sounded too loud in the cramped room. Ryne crossed his arms.

"We can't," he said.

Her chest tightened. "Of course we can."

"We don't have the resources," Ryne said.

Anna lifted her chin. "I don't care."

Ryne rubbed his forehead. The first sign of discomposure, Anna thought. And then, with a sick rush of triumph: good. "Anna. Think about it. All our forces have scattered. Tristan's arm is in a sling, Camille is a mess, and Isaac hasn't slept in three weeks. I want to help those people just as much as you do, but the practicalities..." He dropped his hand. "It's not worth the risk. You know that."

"I'll write a letter to Seraena," Anna said.

She injected more confidence into the statement than she felt. Truthfully, Seraena had been motivated by self-interest to fight alongside them. The other girl had wanted to protect her kingdom. But now—

"She won't come," Ryne said, anticipating her thoughts. "How would that look? Besides, I've heard disturbing rumours that..." He waved a hand. "Let's just say that Seraena is putting out her own fires at the moment."

Anna picked up a quill. "I'll write to Isolde, then."

"She has no power," Ryne said.

"Sophie."

"Anna." His eyes were dark. "We have no idea how big his army is."

"Doesn't matter," Anna said.

Ryne shook his head. "We can't win this fight yet."

"I don't care," Anna said. "I'm not letting Eris crown himself king and then terrorize villagers into submission." Her voice was tight. "Don't you see what he's doing? This is how he exerts control. Through fear and violence and—" She broke off, pressing the sharp tip of the quill into her finger. "I'm going. That's my final decision."

"You're blinded by your hatred for him."

Ryne's voice was measured. Even so, Anna reared back as if he'd slapped her.

Her heart hammered in her ears. "What did you just say?"

"This is personal," Ryne said.

"Of course it's personal." The feather shook in her hands. "You have no idea what it was like in that tower, Delafort. No idea. For weeks, I prayed to every god I knew to let me die. I was so angry that I had to live through it. Do you understand what that's like?"