Snow Like Ashes (Snow Like Ashes, #1)(87)

The soldiers throw open a door in a second-floor hall. A room spreads out before me, a canopy bed against the back corner, wide clear windows along the southern wall, gleaming wooden floors that the soldiers drag me across until we stop by—

A cage. Barely big enough for me to sit up in. They open the door and toss me in and lock it before I can even breathe.

One of the soldiers slips the key onto Herod’s desk.

I follow his movements and my attention freezes on the one object I never expected to see again: my chakram. My original chakram, which Herod stole so long ago, sits prominently on his desk like a prized trophy. Exactly like a prized trophy, in the same way I’m a trophy too.

So close. My weapon, so close and yet so useless.

I lunge against the cage, the bars groaning where they’re bolted into the floor. Nothing gives, and the soldiers laugh as they march out of the room.

Across from me, the other soldiers chain Theron to the wall. They punch him in the stomach, his body slamming back into the wall with a sickening crack. Then they leave us, shutting the door like they can forget what will happen.

I grip the bars, blinking away a foggy veil of tears as I keep my focus on Theron, locking onto his deep brown eyes and the sparkle behind them, the light that I didn’t even realize I’d missed. He stares back at me, the tension in his face unwinding in exhaustion, anger, at seeing me in a cage in Herod’s chamber, waiting for that monster to return and slowly torture me. And knowing that for all his training and power in Cordell, Theron has no power here. He’s just as close and just as useless as my chakram.

“How did Angra—” Theron starts, one of his hands pressing tenderly on his healed ribs. He shakes his head, closing his eyes in a quick flicker of repulsion. “Never mind. I don’t think I want to know.”

I draw in a wavering breath, ready to explain, but the words fall flat and lifeless in my throat. “What happened?” is all I can manage.

Theron drops to the floor, the chains leading from his wrists clanking against the wood. Blood trails down his face, fresh and scarlet, dripping onto the collar of his tattered military uniform, Cordell’s green and gold caked in red. “Bithai survived,” he says.

I open my mouth. No, I meant what happened to lead us here. What happened to get us so far gone, so far from—

“Shortly after you fell, Cordell overcame Spring’s infantry. They were forced to retreat. They couldn’t compete with our conduit; it was the only thing that saved us. But my father refused to retaliate.” Theron winces, working out a pain in his shoulder.

I can’t grasp what he’s saying. I shake my head, drop my face into my hands. The colors from the hall swirl in my memory, Angra’s black and pastel-green and pink mixing with the brown and maroon of Herod’s chamber. Green vines crawl around me like words in the dark. Memories. Nessa’s memories.

Herod is bringing her here. She’ll see him kill me.

“My father refused to go after them,” Theron continues. “He refused to go after you. He said he wouldn’t risk so much for a worthless Season anymore.”

I start rocking back and forth. Herod will kill Nessa too. Will they make Theron watch that? How long will they keep him here before he dies too?

Theron runs a hand down his face. “Mather nearly killed him. Drew a sword and everything. But my father still wouldn’t . . . He’s so proud. So selfish. I hate him.”

I can’t use my conduit magic to get out of this cage. I can’t use it to free Theron. I don’t even know what it can be used for beyond the basic functions of kingdom life. How can it help me in this situation? What can I do?

“I hate the prejudice. I’m tired of watching my father hoard our power when we could be working together, Rhythm and Season, against the true evil in this world. I knew what would make him act. If Spring had me, my father would finally do something about Angra.” Theron laughs an empty laugh, his eyes darting around the room. “Starting to rethink my plan now.”

That makes me stop. Makes my whirring thoughts stumble against a sudden burst of clarity, and I hear everything he said slowly, his words coming to me through my fog.

He handed himself over to Angra. He let Spring catch him.

I gape across the space between us. “You wanted Angra to capture you?”

Theron’s eyes jump to mine. Connecting us, just us now. Together. “Yes.”

A smile uncurls on my face. It feels so wrong and yet so wonderful, how much I need to smile at him.

Something pounds in the hallway, something like . . . footsteps. Coming closer.

I cling to the bars of the cage. “I’m Hannah’s daughter. I’m the queen of Winter,” I hear myself say.

Theron frowns and leans forward, his chains rattling. “I—”

The door to the chamber flies open and Herod’s dark mass barrels in. He hurls himself at his desk, scrambling through papers and books until he grabs the key and holds it triumphantly in a tight-fisted grip. “I’m going to destroy you,” he hisses, eyes burning into mine.





CHAPTER 28

SEEING HIM HERE shatters me. He’s back too soon. Too fast, not yet, I need more time—

Herod stomps toward me, his eyes bloodshot, his hair sticking out around the face of someone scared, frantic. I press against the back corner of the cage. He’s mad, Angra’s evil driving his need to kill.