Followed by Fros(49)

Halfway through the market I spied a coffee seller. Thinking of Lo, I chose a paler bean on Qisam’s recommendation, enough for four cups. Perhaps, if I put on an extra pair of gloves, I could successfully brew the drink without freezing it the next time Lo came by.

A man in a mashadah tapped his shoulders at me as we turned the corner, and I waved at him, which made his hands move all the faster. I couldn’t help but laugh. Who would have thought a simple girl from Euwan could drive such fear into a grown man, and a Zareedian at that?

Qisam, in front of me, suddenly veered to the far right side of the street. I was about to ask why when I saw a cluster of guards up ahead, surrounding the bright tangerine tent of what appeared to be a silk merchant. A few civilians hovered close by, standing on their toes for a better look. I heard the word sheikh as we passed, and when I peered between the armored guards—a few of whom I recognized—I saw Imad comparing belts at a table.

One of the guards nodded to me—his name was Vi, if I remembered right. I wanted to talk to Imad, if only to say thank you, but my friends appeared to be leading me in the opposite direction, which I took to mean that it was not the right time to bother the prince. I did, however, spot Lo just before we turned the corner. He wore his ibex helmet, which must have been very hot in the direct sun, and his indigo uniform. It looked darker than usual—unfaded. A new shirt, perhaps. A heavy sword hung at his left hip and a dagger at his right. He stood beside the merchant who spoke to Imad, his back pressed against the merchant’s large, three-wheeled wagon. Despite the overcast sky, I did not think he had seen me, but before I stepped out of view, his dark eyes glanced up the street.

I signed Thank you, and then, I named my camel Leikah. I did not have a sign for faithful, so I spelled the word out.

Lo laughed, startling the merchant beside him.

We turned the corner and lost sight of the prince and his entourage, but how my cold, slow-beating heart fluttered at the distant sound of Lo’s laugh. I felt I had swallowed a bird—a very lively one. A strange feeling, reminiscent of ones I had experienced before, yet . . . unique. And undeniable, despite how I might have tried to mask or discredit it.

I knew then that Lo’s kindness was more than just kindness to me. His laughter made me laugh, his thoughts made me think, and his silence made me listen to each intake of his breath. It seemed absurd, as I mounted Leikah and started back for my cave in the Finger Mountains, that I had once been so fearful of him. He was beautiful.

And no matter how I tried to reason my way out of it, I was falling for him.





CHAPTER 21





Humming a child’s song my mother had often sung while doing housework, I mixed rice and water in a pan and set it on a small metal rack over my fire, a little away from the flame so I would not burn the bottom, as I was prone to do. Rice was an easy food for me to eat if I cooked it myself—so long as I continued to add water, I could scoop it out of the hot pan and swallow it before it froze in my mouth, and it required little chewing. True, my last bites were often little more than mush, but with a little pepper it tasted more or less like breakfast porridge.

I ate at the fire until my stomach stretched to its limit, then fetched water to wash the pan. The hotter the pan, the easier I could clean it before my wash water froze. But as soon as I stood, I saw Sadriel on my bed, propped up against my pillows—the book of ancient Hraric Lo had given me clutched in his long, unadorned fingers.

The cold rooted me to the floor.

He turned the page. Without looking up, he said, “That Southlander of yours is rather interesting.”

So long since our last encounter—I had dared to think he’d left for good. Touching my once-bruised cheek, I glanced over my shoulder to the door. If I ran, would he follow me? Yet how could I hope to best Sadriel if I lost the courage to face him alone?

Straightening my stiff shoulders, I met his gaze.

Death set the book down and regarded me from beneath the rim of his hat. “Come closer, Smitha. Surely you’re not afraid of me.”

I removed my head scarf, hoping he attributed the shaking of my hands to my usual bitter chill.

“You’ve been gone a long while,” I said. “Was it because you thought I feared you?”

He laughed. “I wanted you to see what it meant to be truly alone, love. Not pleasant, is it?”

I frowned and busied myself turning up the flame in the oil lamp. “I’m only human.”

“No need to remind me.”

I watched him, his first words itching at me. Fortunately, he explained without my asking.

“Twice he’s kept you from me.” Sadriel flashed and reappeared standing, taller even than Lo. “I really thought I had you, in the desert. But then, your death would just make you like all the other lost souls in my realm. You wouldn’t be the same, then.”

“What did you intend, the last time?” I asked, touching my cheek where he had struck me. “Does Death have the power to take me against my will?”

He smiled. “As far as I’m concerned, Smitha, you’ve got one boot in the grave. No ordinary mortal could survive in your state.”

“Is that why you still come to me, Sadriel?” I asked, watching the flickering flames of the lamp for a moment. “Because I’m live bait? Or because you can’t entertain yourself with a true corpse?”