Daggers of Ice

Chapter 27

The Western Woods.

Arianna.

It was still more than a league to her castle; the distance seemed to have doubled than when she had gone to Corradyn's castle. She knew she would make it no further once the sun had set, already it dipped low on the horizon, disappearing beyond the mountains. And she knew better than to push Edmund onwards in his weakened state; she was not doing much better herself, her limbs grew heavier with each step, carrying both her weight and Edmunds. If she'd not found the trickling stream that morning she would have collapsed long ago. But the strength the water gave her and the determination to get Edmund to safety pushed her onward.

She could feel the eyes of the animals on her as she propped Edmund against a tree, his dark eyes never leaving hers.

She saw the concealed wince, the sharp intake of breath between clenched teeth, though he said nothing. As she coaxed the fire to life she watched the young king sidelong through her lashes. He had closed his eyes, but his lips were turned down in a frown as he tried to get comfortable.

"Lift your shirt, Ed," she said sharply as she stood, the flames crackling behind her as she advanced on him. Seeing the determination spark in her eyes he did not object, merely folding up his shirt for her to inspect. He did not look down to see the cause of the crease between her perfect brows.

Her cat-like eyes glanced up for a moment, and widened, surprised to see his chocolate orbs studying her face. They flashed for the barest moment before he winced in pain as her slender fingers brushed the bandage that was now seeped with blood.

Like a crimson flower it spread out from his wound, staining the linen which she had so laboriously wrapped around him. Like blood splattered on fresh snow – and it tugged at something deep within her knowing he was in such pain.

She idly wondered if Jadis was watching, if she was revelling in Edmund's pain and Arianna's helplessness.

"You could have left me behind long ago," his voice was broken, too soft. Too unlike the Edmund she knew. There was a strange vulnerability in his eyes; she turned her face from him, opting instead to look into the dancing flames. "You would be safe by now."

"You did not give up on me when I lay at death's door," she said simply, feeling his eyes on her. She could only imagine how she looked, covered in blood and grime, her hair as wild as a birds nest, her shirt clinging to her sweaty body.

But she could not find it within herself to care; not when he looked just as bad.

They would return together.

...

Where the Northern Lands Meet the Western Woods.

Asura.

"Is there any word from the northman yet?" Peter's voice was riddled with worry, his eyes resting on her face, beseeching – his normally sunny blue irises were like storm clouds. Bleak and foreboding. In the flickering light of the torches, beneath the crimson canopy of his tent, he looked more like a lost child that High King Peter the Magnificent. "Has he tricked us? Led us here to be slaughtered?"

And Asura felt her heart reaching for him.

"Nothing yet Pete," Asura said softly, shaking her head at the blatant dislike of the northman. And in that small moment she could see why the people of the north had flooded to Arianna, why they served her so willingly. She did not treat them as something wild, as something lesser. And in her heart of hearts, Asura was somewhat glad that the Ice Queen had not shared the location of Corradyn's castle with any others, for there was no doubt in her mind that Peter would have done something foolish.