Faerie Winter - Janni Lee Simner [43]
Kyle slept in fits and starts. I woke when he did, so slept in short snatches, never long enough to dream. Sometimes Kyle woke screaming, sometimes crying. Once he called Johnny’s name, telling him over and over that he was sorry about the ants. Another time he muttered, “No, no, no, no, no,” until he drifted off again. I held him, told him he was safe for now, and thought about all the ways I’d make Elin suffer for this if I ever saw her again.
Eventually the light outside faded. Much later, Kyle’s fever broke and he fell into a deeper sleep. I brushed his sweaty hair from his forehead. My chest felt strange and tight. I’d known Kyle all his life, but I’d never thought much about him before. Now I felt as if I’d do anything to protect him. That scared me—I knew well enough how little I could do to keep him safe.
When I felt myself slipping into deeper sleep, I gently pulled away from Kyle and stood, my head brushing the trailer’s rusty ceiling. I didn’t want to wake him with one of my nightmares.
Karin sat cross-legged by the door, the other orange stone beside her—its light was lasting a lot longer than the ones from Seth’s little sister did. Karin had unbuttoned her jacket, and I glimpsed another knife sheathed inside. She’d not carried any weapons I could see when last we’d met, but the trees had been awake then, and she’d had the entire forest at her command. Her shoulders were stiff, her expression watchful. I heard a faint pattering against the roof. Ice.
“I fear we will be here some time.” Karin offered me her water skin as I sat beside her. I drank, grateful for the cold water against my dry lips and throat.
“Kyle isn’t ready to travel yet anyway.” My stomach was grumbling again. I drew a strip of jerky—the meat Kyle had refused—from my pocket and split it with Karin. She offered me a handful of dried fruit in turn. “Blueberries,” she said at my puzzled look.
That was what I’d thought; I wouldn’t have hesitated otherwise. The berries should have burned my skin, but apparently they were quite dead. I set one hesitantly on my tongue, and tart sweetness flooded my mouth. Karin was the only person I knew who could harvest fruit safely. I stowed the rest of the berries in my coat pocket, though I could easily have eaten them all. Maybe Kyle would like them better than dried meat. “Karin, do you think the Lady is looking for us?”
“The storm that stops us will stop her as well, for a time,” Karin said.
“What about after the storm?” I kept my voice low so as not to wake Kyle.
Karin stared into the dimness. “No. I don’t think she’ll look for us. I think she’ll look for your mother.”
I very much look forward to seeing your mother again. Karin’s glowing stone couldn’t keep away all the cold.
“Liza, could you get Kyle to my town by yourself?”
I shook my head. I could, but I wouldn’t. I knew why Karin was asking, but I’d not abandon Mom to the Lady, not while my thoughts were my own. My hand went to the chain around my neck. I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to bring myself to part with its protection again.
Karin sighed, and the leaves around her wrist fluttered restlessly. “I am willing enough to face my mother alone, and I cannot deny I would feel more at ease knowing you and Kyle were far away from her. She is almost certainly relying on your concern for your mother. She knows we’ll follow her to your town, and she has time enough to make plans against us that even the bond between student and teacher cannot shield you from. It may be that the best way to thwart those plans is for you and Kyle not to appear.”
Ice tapped more loudly against the metal ceiling. “Karin, why does the Lady hate my mother so?”
Karin turned to me. “Tara did not tell you? When she returned?”
“She hardly told me anything.” I hated how my voice sounded, like a whining child who couldn’t get her way.
“You don’t want this story from me, Liza.” By the orange light Karin’s face looked less pale—more human. “The storm will not last forever, and we have other matters to discuss.”
The ice didn’t sound as