Frost (12 page)

“What are you going to do?” Gabe stood and brushed the snow from his hands. He looked at me with a worried frown. I think he already knew my answer, and he looked unhappy about it. We’d never said much about the Watchers, but he was aware of their existence.

“Well,” I said, exhaling a cloud of breath. “I can’t lose the horse. It doesn’t belong to us. We just board it here during the winter.” I chewed my lip as reality of exactly what I was about to do sunk its cold claws into my chest. “I’ll have to go after it.”

“I’m going with you,” he said, immediately.

“No.”

His mouth turned down in a frown. “It wasn’t a request, Lia.”

“You aren’t fully healed. You’re still weak. If you can’t keep up, then I have two problems to worry about.”

“I’ll keep up.” His jaw clenched. “I’m a lot stronger than before.”

“This is a bad idea,” I said. The wind blew across my face, numbing my lips. I crossed my arms over my chest and glared at him.

“I’m not letting you go in there alone.” Determination simmered in his eyes, and I was touched on a deep level in spite of my misgivings. But at the same time, what if he got hurt? He was still weak. I didn’t like it.

“Lia, please.”

It was late afternoon, and the sun had already begun to sink behind the trees. There was little time to argue, so I just started for the tree line without responding.

I heard the crunch of his footsteps as he followed after me, and anger simmered in my chest at his stubbornness. “Gabe—”

“Listen,” he said. “If I get too tired, I’ll turn around and go back. Fair enough?”

I didn’t like it, but there wasn’t time to protest.

“Fine.” I stopped just before the foliage started. Taking a breath, I fumbled in my pocket for the blue ribbons I kept there. I drew one out and tied a snow blossom around a bare limb that stretched toward us like a bony finger.

“What’s that for?” Gabe watched my actions with interest.

“It’s what we’re supposed to do when we go into the forest. It will help us if we get lost, and hopefully it’ll form a wall of safety if any Watchers are roaming nearby.”

“What is it with Watchers and snow blossoms?”

I finished tying the ribbon and left the blossom dangling. “I don’t know. But the sight of them makes the monsters stop.”

We stepped together into the forest, and despite all my protestations I was glad for the company. Bare trees formed a line of black bark against the crisp white of the snow. The world was alien and silent except for the rasp of our snowshoes across the wintery surface. The horse’s tracks formed a staggering line where he’d scrambled through the drifts.

“Stupid animal,” I growled.

The light became bluer and darker as we moved deeper into the forest. I kept tying ribbons and blossoms on the trees. I lost track of how long we’d been gone—the forest had that effect—but I kept tying blossoms on the branches and I kept moving.

“You’re doing a better job of keeping up than I thought you would,” I admitted to Gabe after a while.

We rounded a cluster of naked trees and entered a clearing. A frozen pond lay like glass in the middle, reflecting the sunlight, and the horse’s path led right into it. The ice in the center had shattered, and a path of dark water led straight to the other side. We skirted the edges slowly.

His breath made a cloud in front of his mouth. “I’m healing.” He swung his arm to demonstrate, wincing a little as he did so.

I was silent as the realization settled over me. Healing meant soon there would be no more reason for him to stay. This should have made me happy, because it would mean our safety. But it didn’t.

We reached the end of the pond, where the horse had exited the water. The tracks led up a hill and out of sight. I stood looking up. “What will you do when you’re strong enough to go?”

He shuffled his feet to warm them. His eyes slid away from mine, toward the tracks. “I can’t go back. I can’t stay here.”

We both knew the truth. Gabe was the one to say it.

“I need to get to that place the Thorns operative told me about.”

“Here’s the problem,” I said, starting up the snow-crusted rock. “I’ve never heard of it in my life. I have no idea where it is, and these forests are dangerous. We could spend months looking for it and never come close to finding it. And with the Watchers, we can’t spend too much time wandering around. We’d have to know exactly where to go.”

We reached the top of the hill. My eyes swept the clearing, and my breath left me in a punch of shock.

A man stood with his back to us.

I could see only his thick homespun cloak and his dark hair. A villager. Our feet crunched loudly against the snow, announcing our presence, and two thoughts went through my mind—Gabe was with me and this man would ask who he was.

The figure began to turn, and I knew we were caught against the white snow with nowhere to hide without being seen. I grabbed Gabe’s shirt with both hands and pulled him forward. I caught one glimpse of his widened eyes before I did the one thing I could think of to do, the one thing that would explain who he was and why he was with me and why we were about to flee upon being discovered.

I kissed him.

His lips were cold and rough. He froze for a split second before cupping my face with both hands, kissing me back. Then, as if noticing the villager for the first time, I pushed Gabe behind the bushes, against the trunk of a tree, and broke away.

“Lia,” Gabe whispered. His eyes were dark and startled as they met mine, and his fingers gripped my shoulder, keeping me from pulling away.

“There was someone,” I responded, and he went still as he understood me. I held up one finger and backed away, stepping back into the clearing.

He was still there, and my heart sunk like a stone as I recognized him.

Adam Brewer.

The wind teased my hair, and my lips stung where they’d been pressed against Gabe’s. Adam faced me. Here we stood, both in the forest in the dying light of late afternoon. The lengthening shadows suddenly seemed oppressive, and every tree seemed to hide an enemy. I shivered.

“Lia Weaver,” he said quietly, acknowledging me with a curt nod of his head. His dark hair brushed his eyebrows. “Yarn doesn’t grow on trees in this forest.”

What was he trying to imply?

I lifted my chin. I couldn’t avoid answering him now, no matter what I thought of him. I’d been cornered. “Adam Brewer. I don’t see you carrying a keg.” The words came out too haughty, too sharp. I was supposed to be making nice so he wouldn’t ask questions, but I couldn’t help myself.

His eyebrows knit together as he frowned. “I am chopping firewood,” he said.

My gaze dropped to his empty hands. Silence hung between us as we sized each other up, guessing each other’s secrets.

“I am looking for my horse,” I said finally. “He ran off. Have you seen him?”

Adam shook his head. His dark eyes narrowed slightly, but when he spoke his tone was polite. “Do you need assistance?”

“No, I...” My voice trailed off. I gestured at the trees behind me.

“You and a beau are seeing to it,” he finished for me. “I saw you a moment ago.”

I didn’t say anything. My heart thumped hard in my chest. Would he leave us alone? Would he ask questions? Would he tell somebody?

Adam tipped his head to one side. “I wouldn’t have pegged you for a risk-taker, Lia Brewer.”

A blush touched my cheeks and evaporated against the cold. “I’m full of surprises.”

“Indeed. Perhaps you might want to choose a safer place for your romantic trysts. These forests are full of Watchers. Perhaps your parents’ barn would be better, above the place where the stones form a circle.”

A chill rippled over me. The words were strange, nosy. I didn’t answer him. He turned to leave, pausing to study my face one more time.

Why did I feel as if he could see straight to my soul?

A sigh escaped me when he vanished from sight. Behind me, Gabe emerged from the bushes with a rustle of branches.

“That was close.” He sounded as breathless as I felt. “Did he see me?”

“Yes, and yes. But I don’t think he got a good look. He...assumed things about you, and left it at that. He knew I’d be reluctant to give way to prying.”

I didn’t elaborate further. I was
not
discussing the kiss.

“You seemed like you knew each other,” Gabe observed. Was that a note of jealousy in his tone?

I ran my fingers up and down the edge of my cloak. Even just talking about it made my skin itch. “His parents were with mine when they died. They’d asked my father to do them a favor, and something went wrong.”

“Wrong?”

“Watchers,” I said softly. The word burned on my tongue, and for a moment there was nothing but the sound of the wind. Snow began to drift down from the sky like feathers, landing on my lashes and catching in his hair. I didn’t tell him the rest—how the Brewers had denied being with my parents at all, how they’d claimed we were making up lies about them, how they swore they hadn’t been in the forest when my parents had been killed, even though I’d seen one of them leave with my mother and father—I’d seen them step together into the woods with my own eyes through the window in my bedroom. They’d lured my parents to their deaths and then denied the whole thing. And then they’d thrown me and my siblings to the wolves in the process.

“Oh.” Gabe looked like he wanted to say something else, but as far as I was concerned the conversation was finished. I stamped off after the horse tracks, and he followed.

We found the horse beyond the next grove of trees, grazing on a patch of ice-coated grass. I slipped alongside him and grabbed his halter. The horse snorted at me, and I scowled.

“You’ve caused a lot of trouble,” I snapped at him. “Come on, now.” I tugged on the lead rope, leading the horse to a fallen tree trunk where I took my snowshoes off and hung them around my neck. Hoisting myself up onto the horse’s broad back, which was wet from dripping snow, I grabbed his mane and wrapped both legs around his shaggy sides. “Hurry. We should hurry back.” The light was already beginning to fade.

Gabe stepped to the side of the horse and removed his snowshoes just like I’d done. He stepped onto the tree trunk and surveyed the horse’s back with a determined expression.

I realized his shoulder was probably bothering him. I offered him my hand, and he accepted. A tingle ran up my arm at the way our palms fit together, but I brushed the thought away and tugged him up behind me. He kept a careful distance between us. Having him so close tied my stomach into knots. I cleared my throat nervously.

Laying the lead rope against the horse’s neck and squeezing my legs against his sides, I urged him forward at a trot.

“How well do you know these woods?” Gabe asked from behind me. The horse stumbled as he descended the hill, and he grabbed my shoulders for balance.

“I used to travel them with my father,” I said, breathless because of the sudden contact. He let go of me a moment later, and I felt almost disappointed about it. I kept talking, half to distract myself and half because I didn’t know how to stop. “He was a trapper as well as a weaver. We put the extra meat in our cooking pot and traded the extra pelts in the market.” Just talking about it made my throat squeeze tight. “He knew these forests as well as he knew his own name. He was fearless when it came to the Watchers, too. But then...”

I didn’t really want to finish that thought, so I let it dangle. In my mind’s eye I saw the men who had come to our door and the heavy blankness that had filled their eyes as they’d delivered the news. I saw Ivy, hunched over and sobbing, Jonn’s face wiped of expression. I remembered the utter numbness that had gripped me, and the crushing realization that my family’s fate was in my hands now.

Hesitantly, I began to tell Gabe about what I’d had to do to keep the family together. He listened without speaking as I poured out my fears, my worries. I’d never told anybody this before, but for some reason I found myself spilling every secret terror to him. Maybe it was because he’d accompanied me into the forest so willingly. Maybe it was because when he listened to me I felt heard in a way I’d never experienced before.

When I finished, it felt as if a huge weight had been lifted from my shoulders. I exhaled. Gabe was quiet. Then his hand touched my arm. Slowly, his arms slipped around me until he was holding me. I relaxed against him like my whole body was sighing into him, and warmth crept over my skin even though I was freezing cold.

“Lia—”

An inhuman shriek split the air, and all the hairs on my arm stood up. The horse danced sideways, tossing his head. Gabe jerked, swiveling to look behind us. “What was that?”

Realization skittered over my skin like shards of ice. The shadows had grown too long, the darkness too complete. It was almost night, and we were still in the forest.

I whispered the words.

“A Watcher.”

I TURNED THE horse in a tight circle. My heart hammered and my breath came in harsh gasps as I tried to think. It would do us no good to flee straight into the creature’s path. I scanned the gathering shadows, and then I saw it—a ripple of movement against the dark, a rustle of fur and feathers and a squeal that sounded like metal against metal.

The horse shied away and laid his ears back.

“Hold on,” I gritted to Gabe, and then I dug my heels into the horse’s sides.

The horse took off like a stone shot from a sling. The trees rushed past, branches slapping our faces and dragging at our bodies. I ducked low, burying myself in the mane of the horse. Gabe slid against me with every lurch of his stride. “Are we close to the edge of the forest?” he shouted into my ear.

I could see the yard. I urged the horse faster, and we flew into the clearing in a spray of snow. The shriek of the Watcher sounded again behind us, louder and closer. The horse thundered toward the barn. Gabe began to slip, and he wrapped both arms around my waist and hung on for dear life as we made a sharp turn around the side of the house.

We reached the door. I slid off and hit the ground running, my fingers wrenching at the door to get it open. Gabe flattened himself over the horse’s back and kicked him forward. I threw down a handful of the snow blossoms onto the threshold and then rushed after them inside.