Followed by Fros(28)

Below I spied men and women scurrying about in coats that looked brand new. They must have been warned to prepare for the cold, but the snow may have outwitted them. They shoveled the streets with whatever they had on hand, including buckets, cooking sheets, and garden hoes. Others twirled and marveled at the never-before-seen snow; children laughed as they slid and danced and played. I smiled, feeling more peaceful than I had in years. My curse had become another’s blessing. How wonderful, to give this to them.

“Incredible,” Imad said, walking across the snow-strewn balcony to join me. His breath clouded in the air, and soft snow melted into his hair. He laughed. “Look at this, Smeesa! Already I feel we’ve collected enough to return fertility to our ground.”

“It is no effort on my part,” I admitted.

“But it is incredible nonetheless,” Imad said, rubbing his arms. “And it is terribly cold!”

I grinned. For a moment, I had almost forgotten.

Imad clasped me by the shoulders, startling me. “Smeesa, you must go to the other villages and do the same.” He pulled his hands away, my dress providing too little protection between my skin and his, but he hid the wince. “You must go to Kittat and Ir and Shi’wanara and bring them water as you have done for us. And then return! Smeesa, with you around, my people will never go thirsty. Please say you’ll do it.”

He asked me so earnestly, and the thought of spreading more laughter through the streets of this beautiful city and providing more relief to the weary made me nod without the slightest hesitation. Imad clapped his hands.

“I will send my best guard with you. You are the jewel of this desert, Smeesa. I will see to it that you are well protected.”

I hesitated, combing through his accented words. “You will not come with me?”

He shook his head and peered out over his city. “I have been away a season already. My people need leadership, and with my father confined to his bed, I must be the one to give it to them. It will be hard to start up the farms again, to feed the . . . rhatar, how you say . . .”

“Economy,” I said, surprised I had the answer.

He nodded. “Economy. But you will be taken care of; I will see to it. I will send Lo with you; he knows these mountains well.”

A fortunate shiver hid my disdain for the idea. Lo, with his cold eyes and silent disposition, was not a companion I desired, but I would not express such ill feeling to Imad, who had done so much for me.

“Will Eyan come along? And others from our journey?” At least that way I would have friends.

Friends. How sweet that word tasted to me.

“I will tell Lo to include them,” Imad said with a firm nod. “And you will stay here for the day and night, yes? Until I cannot see the houses for the snow!” He laughed, exuberant.

“Of course. Anything you need.”

I returned to the rooms Imad had lent to me, surprised to find two new sets of clothes on the bed. Kitora must have stayed awake all night to make them. They looked much like the belted dresses I had seen the women in the city wearing, one fuchsia and the other mustard. I had two braided belts, both brown but with different weaves. Instead of sandals, I found two pairs of soft slippers with hard soles, one gray and one brown, both with high cloth legs that reached just below my knee. I had two scarves as well, one white with maroon stripes, the other orange with a scarlet fringe. I picked up the fuchsia dress to wear and discovered three pairs of gloves beneath it, two pairs to match the dresses and a third made of the same striped fabric as the first scarf. I touched them and bowed my head, so grateful for the kindness I had found in this place I thought I could burst. After changing—I wore the fuchsia gloves, gray slippers, and orange scarf draped softly over my head, as I had seen other women wear it—I took my old, stained, and tattered clothes from my schoolbag and threw them in the tweed basket near the bathroom, meant for garbage. I almost felt like a new woman, and though my beautiful clothes offered me no warmth and stiffened around my icy form, I cherished them.

“Don’t you look thoroughly foreign.”

My slow-beating heart quickened at the voice. I spied Sadriel near the window, pulling aside the curtain to look down at the falling snow.

He grinned, that sly, wide grin that rarely left his face. He looked me up and down. “At least someone’s found a use for you, hmm?”

I smoothed my stiff dress, urging myself to calm. “They have. It seems such a small thing, but I can help these people.”

“But what,” he asked, pacing the length of the room, his black cloak fluttering behind him, “will you do when they no longer need your help?”

“I’ll leave.”

“Back to our old home in Iyoden.” Sadriel almost sung the words. “But I don’t think my queen of the wilderness will be so willing to be dethroned now that she’s found a place in a palace.”

I kneaded my fingers out of habit, trying to soften their knuckles. How the cold seemed to claw at me then, with Sadriel so close.

Straightening, I sucked in a deep, cold breath. “Do you need something?”

“You know what I need,” he said.

A knock sounded on the door, and a new serving woman poked her head into the room. She averted her eyes from me, but I knew she could not see Sadriel.

“A meal for you,” she said, setting the tray on the floor. I tried to thank her, but she left too quickly, closing the door behind her.