A Kiss of Fate

Chapter 5

Morning dawned bright and beautiful, flooding the sky with a pale golden light. Ayana threw back her hood and sighed, letting the warm light wash over her numb face, a comforting respite from the never ending cold.

Droplets of morning dew hung from the sodden leaves, set to fall at the slightest touch. The serene lake glittered and swayed, an endless expanse inlaid with diamonds and crystals. Ayana did not let herself enjoy the weather too much. Her fortune would not hold long enough for it to last.

Iezabel rode beside her, flowing gracefully with the movement of her horse. The contours of her face revealed no emotion, coal-black eyes fixed on the trail. Her short glossy hair reflected the dawning sunlight, which flushed out the brown in them.

"Iezabel? Is everything alright?"

"I feel like crushing her skull with my own hands." Iezabel gritted her teeth, barely paying her heed. "She has given us enough grief to last a lifetime."

Ayana cringed. "Not the most subtle way to end someone's life," she said, giving her a perplexed look. "Who is the unfortunate one?"

"The infernal witch from the Imperial Guard," Iezabel said, seething in her saddle. "She is the reason for everything. She always has been."

Iezabel gave her a long look, and something stirred in her eyes. "I'm grateful, my lady," she said.

Ayana raised her eyebrows, surprised by the change in her tone. "What for?"

"For letting me escort you," Iezabel replied.

"Who else would I want by my side when the 'infernal witch' comes for me?" Ayana smiled.

Iezabel turned her eyes toward the horizon, lost in her own thoughts.

Ayana maintained her silence, for she understood her anger toward the sorceress. Iezabel's past was not so different from her own. She had lost her comrades to the vlarik during the incursion of Isouvien. Their present condition was the last straw to the fire within her.

As the day wore on, white clouds blanketed the sky, concealing the sun in their silvery folds. A flock of pine grosbeaks flitted overhead, chirping at each other-the only sound in those tranquil woods. Their progress was slow, since they could not move faster than a steady trot, not in her condition.

They continued along the lake shore, traversing the carpet of sand and pebbles, often adorned with clumps of crocuses and tangles of honeysuckle. Ayana breathed in the intoxicating fragrance of nature-the scent of blooming shrubs mixed with the smell of wet grass.

Around midday, the chill returned with a blizzard in tow, each gust of frigid wind depositing a fresh layer of powdery snow. The steeds snorted their irritation, sensing the change in atmosphere. With another whistling squall, the callous winter devoured the brief spring fantasy with its icy fangs.

A shiver traveled down Ayana's spine as winter's frosty nails bit into her skin, pulling her into its stark embrace. "Isei Ilvi returns to torment us again."

Iezabel sighed. "So he does."

"Are we moving in circles?" Ayana asked. The lake shore stretched as far as her eyes could see.

"How long has it been since you last glimpsed a map of Aria?"

"A year or two."