Bitter Winter Page 5

  He rubbed his burning eyes with his free hand. Below him, Tyra shifted, her chin resting on his foot. He’d lost track of her during the attack but was thankful when she had turned up at the cabin with Elian. She’d obviously done her part in the fight. Blood matted her fur in areas—both her own and others’—but his quick inspection of her hadn’t revealed anything more than minor cuts she had already licked clean. She peered up at him, a sad look to her crystal blue eyes. She couldn’t know what had happened, but she sensed the mood in the cabin.

  Jace glanced around them. Kyrin’s brothers sat at the table with their mother, their faces dazed, occasional tears falling. Lydia cried more openly. Aric sat beside her, consoling her as best he could. Talas had stayed, his typically bright green eyes dimmed. He surely felt as though he had lost a brother too. Others came and went, offering quiet sympathies. Some of the men had boarded up the broken window and cleaned up the glass.

  Jace stared back into the crackling flames in the fireplace and tried to make some sort of sense of what had happened. A moment later, a quiet voice said his name and a hand touched his shoulder. He looked up to find Lenae. Her eyes were full of moisture and shared grief.

  “Why don’t you let me look at your arm?”

  His arm? He looked down at the blood staining his sleeve. That’s right; he’d been wounded. He hadn’t even noticed the throbbing ache until now. Slowly, he took his other arm from around Kyrin’s shoulders. She barely reacted, staring vacantly toward the fire. It always scared him to see her like this, but he reminded himself how strong she was. She would get through this… eventually, and he would be there to help her.

  Standing, he slipped out of his coat. Red stained his shirtsleeve down to the wrist. He peeled it away from his skin and pulled his arm out. Dagren’s blade had sliced into his flesh just below his shoulder. Blood caked the wound, though it no longer bled. He sat down again and let Lenae take over cleaning it. He barely felt it when she stitched the torn flesh.

  When she finished bandaging it, Jace stuck his arm back in his sleeve, but the blood held his attention. He should change. He shouldn’t sit here with blood on his clothes. Though he hated to leave, he turned to Kyrin and cleared his throat.

  “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  She didn’t respond at first but then nodded slowly. Firelight flickered on the pooled tears in her eyes. Jace leaned over to press a soft kiss to her temple and then stood, looking down at her. She always appeared so small and frail when grief hit. He passed the table, glancing at her family, and then let himself out of the cabin with Tyra, who followed along.

  Outside, he took in the sight of camp—a world of white and gray… and red. Blood. It spotted camp in a glaring reminder of just how fragile their life was here. The safety they’d experienced for so long had shattered, proving to be little more than an illusion. Of the only two places Jace had ever considered home, both had now faced attack and left him in mourning. Why couldn’t one place remain safe and protected? He glanced up at the sky, longing for Elôm to answer. Please comfort Kyrin and her family… and the others who have suffered loss.

  Heaviness dragging at him, Jace crossed the snow to the other cabin. Amidst the sorrow, concern crowded in. He hadn’t seen Rayad since the fight with Dagren. He’d appeared all right, but what if he was more seriously injured than either of them realized? Jace’s pace quickened. The possibility of losing Rayad too snatched away his ability to breathe. At the cabin door, he hesitated. He had no reason to believe Rayad wasn’t all right, but his fears escalated faster than he could contain them. With a desperate prayer, he opened the door and walked in.

  His breath finally returned, seeping out slowly. Rayad sat in his usual chair and looked back at Jace as he entered. Holden, Elian, and Trev were also present. Each of them bore tight-lipped, grim expressions. Rayad carefully pushed to his feet, holding his side, and met Jace near the door.

  “How are they?” he asked quietly.

  Jace just stood a moment, the heavy numbness of what had happened returning. He shook his head. What could he even say? Devastated? Crushed?

  Rayad gave a slight nod. His gaze dropped to Jace’s shoulder. “Have you had that looked at?”

  “Yes. I just came to change. I need to get back to Kyrin.” He walked over to his clothing chest and pulled out a new shirt. As he changed, a question rose that he hesitated to ask. “How many others did we lose?” He didn’t look back, too afraid to see Rayad’s face and the possibility of dealing with more loss.

  “Five dragon riders—three of Kaden’s men and two of Darq’s,” Rayad answered soberly. “Sixteen men from the militia and another five who weren’t. Several more are injured. Two women were killed in one of the cabins the soldiers broke into. I haven’t heard yet, but I’m assuming our lookouts were killed as well.”

  Jace let out a long breath. If not for Michael, that could have been Kyrin and Elanor. “Balen and Daniel?”

  “They are fine.”

  Jace nodded slowly. Over thirty dead. Perhaps more if some of the wounded didn’t survive. A large chunk of their community just… gone. They hadn’t even had any warning. It wasn’t that they’d grown complacent, but… Jace would never have imagined their enemies finding them here. For nearly three years it had stood as a safe haven. What would happen now that its location was no longer secret?

  All at once, the questions and the sorrow overwhelmed Jace, and he found himself sinking down on the edge of his cot and putting his head in his hands. They were all in danger—Kyrin, her family, Elanor, Rayad. Not only that, but they were hurting, and there was nothing he could do about any of it. He blinked hard, his eyes burning, yet try as he might to stop them, the tears soon rolled down his cheeks.

  The cot creaked as Rayad sat down beside him with a heavy sigh. He said nothing, but the strength of his presence helped Jace bear the pain. Finally, he wiped the tears from his chin and looked over at Rayad, speaking hoarsely. “Why does this keep happening to her?”

  Of all that had happened, the most painful was knowing the agony Kyrin had to endure and that it would forever remain fresh in her memory.

  Chapter Five

  Kyrin stared at the ceiling for hours; her eyes burning as if full of sand. She drew in a slow breath past her lips, her nose congested from crying. Her body felt heavy, numb… cold, even being under the blankets with her mother. Kyrin tipped her head to look over at her. She seemed to be asleep, finally. The sorrow had exhausted them both. It had been late when they’d given in to the gentle urgings to get some rest. Even then, they had lain awake, soon breaking down into tears. Kyrin had held her mother tightly as they’d both sobbed in loss.

  Kyrin closed her eyes as the sting of tears returned. Elôm? She was out of words beyond this simple, aching plea to feel His presence in this. She struggled to remind herself of His work behind her father’s death and the joy that had grown up amidst the soil of sorrow. Surely, He also had a purpose in her brother dying. She begged for the answer, but reasons eluded her, the pain far too fresh to see beyond it.

  Afraid of breaking down again, Kyrin silently slipped out of bed, careful not to disturb her mother, and changed into a dress. A pale light filtering through the windows signaled a cold dawn as she left the cabin loft. She looked to the back of the cabin. The canvas partitions were open enough for her to see each of her brothers—four of them… no longer five. Her lungs struggled to expand and draw air as she gazed at them. Ronny shared a bed with Liam. All of them appeared to be asleep except for Kaden. He stared up at the ceiling much as she had been. He glanced at her as she approached the fireplace. Though the cabin was dim, the small flames from the fire glinted in his eyes, which looked overly moist.

  Fighting to swallow down her own tears, Kyrin’s gaze fell on Jace. He sat on the floor, his back resting against the stones of the fireplace. His eyes were closed, his arm draped over Tyra, who lay beside him with her chin in his lap. Though they had told everyone who had been with them during the long, hard day to return to their cabins for the night, Jace had stayed. Stayed right here, disregarding his own comfort just to be near. A couple of her tears spilled over in an overwhelming combination of love and sorrow.

  She brushed her hands across her cheeks and sat down in the chair she’d occupied yesterday. Though it barely creaked, Jace’s eyes opened. He blinked, and his gaze locked on her. Concern filled them immediately, and he started to rise, but Kyrin held up her hand to stop him.

  “Don’t get up on my account,” she whispered.

  Jace rested back again and rubbed his hands over his face. His usually brilliant and clear eyes were red. He’d been crying too, something he did so seldom. The thought of that robbed her of breath. He and Michael had shared a growing bond, especially since Jace had saved his life last summer, nearly losing his own as a result. After all that, why had Michael had to die now? It felt so meaningless. She closed her eyes again and bit her lip. Elôm, please give us peace in this. It’s too hard.

  The sound of Jace moving around again drew her attention. He had gotten to his knees and quietly put wood on the fire. Once the flames had caught, he got up and claimed the chair next to her. Still weak, she reached for his hand, needing his strength. His worn but gentle fingers closed around hers and squeezed tightly. Resting her head against his shoulder, Kyrin let the tears fall freely. She didn’t have enough strength to fight them.

  * * *

  Daniel stared at his bandaged hand and flexed his fingers as he sat on the edge of his bed. The wound beneath the blood-stained strip of linen ached, but pain meant he was alive, unlike so many others. He let a heavy breath seep from his lungs. The last time he had faced death like this had been the night his father died. Many, including Daniel, would say his father had deserved his fate. Those here hadn’t—especially not the innocent women and young Michael. What a tragic waste of life.

  While Daniel hadn’t been in this camp nearly as long as most, like them he’d felt safe here. It had long been a haven that had seemed untouchable, even before he’d arrived. But like the days leading up to Davira usurping his throne, he’d grown far too comfortable and confident in his position. Too caught up in the simple freedoms he’d found here.

  He rubbed the sore muscles in his neck. He couldn’t help but feel like this was his fault. Maybe because Davira was his sister. If he’d just been wise and stopped her from taking power, then none of this would have happened. Somehow he always failed at doing the one thing he should do.

  “Are you all right?”

  Daniel looked up and found Aric watching him. Realizing how tightly he held his brows together, he probably looked like he’d swallowed spoiled milk. “I was just wishing I had thrown Davira in a cage where she belonged before she had a chance to do it to me. I could have prevented this.”

  “I was there too,” Aric said. “You can’t blame yourself.”

  Daniel shook his head. “I was the one who was supposed to be king. I should’ve known better.”

  From across the cabin where he poured a cup of coffee, Balen joined in. “Just because you’re king doesn’t mean you can know or see everything. Don’t forget it was my stepmother who surrendered Samara into the hands of your father.”

  He brought Daniel and Aric both a cup of hot coffee. Daniel raised his cup to Balen in a mock toast. “To being betrayed by family.”

  He then sipped the coffee that was about as dark and bitter as his feelings toward his sister at the moment.

  A knock at the door interrupted his uncharitable imaginings of all the horrible things Davira deserved to have happen to her. When Balen answered it, Trask, Warin, and Captain Darq stepped inside. The flames in the fireplace wavered as if shivering at the cold air that followed them in. If he’d been the suspicious sort and not a believer in Elôm, Daniel might have wondered if his sister had somehow conjured this vicious winter weather herself. It was just the sort of thing she would do given the power. Thank Elôm she was only human like the rest of them.

  “Have we lost anyone else?” Balen asked.

  Trask shook his head. “No, but some are still in bad condition.”

  Balen gestured to the table, and the three of them took seats. Once they each had a mug of steaming coffee to help warm them up, Trask spoke again.

  “I didn’t want to have to call everyone out for a meeting this morning, but we need to discuss the security of camp now that our location is no longer a secret.”

  “We won’t be able to stay here now,” Warin said.

  Regret hung heavy in his low tone. Daniel couldn’t blame him. This camp had been home to a good many people for a long time. He’d only been here a few months, but he would already hate to leave it.

  “There isn’t much we can do until the snow clears,” Balen responded. “We may be able to evacuate to the other camps, but who’s to say their location is still a secret?”

  Trask rubbed his neck with a sigh. “You’re right. We can’t evacuate until spring. Even if we had enough dragons for everyone, we don’t have the supplies to set up a new camp in this weather.” He turned his attention to Darq. “Does it look like we need to prepare for another attack?”

  “My men and I patrolled throughout the night. The surviving soldiers and firedrakes retreated to the barracks. It’s too soon to tell if they will wait for reinforcements and try again.”

  Now Trask looked at Daniel. “What do you think?”

  Daniel straightened. He still wasn’t used to being part of this governing body of men where decisions he helped make could mean life or death. He scolded himself for his uncertainty. One of these days he needed to start acting like the king they all were prepared to fight and die to see him become.

  “If Davira was crazy enough to attack us now in the dead of winter, then she’s crazy enough to try it again. We won’t know for sure unless reinforcements show up.”

  “We’ll keep a close watch on any activity at the barracks,” Darq said.

  “How did she find us in the first place?” Daniel asked. This was surely the one question on almost everyone’s mind. “And why didn’t our lookouts have a chance to warn us?”

  “Your sister must have had scouts searching the forest from the air,” Trask answered. “Most likely at night when we didn’t notice. They were probably crete traitors. They could even have used the trees. From what we can tell, they knew the location of our lookouts before the attack and made their way around to cut them off and ambush them before they could warn us.”

  Daniel gritted his teeth. “So they’re dead?”

  Trask nodded slowly, his jaw taut.

  Daniel had expected as much, though he hadn’t heard for sure until now.

  “So, what options do we have?” Thank Elôm there were men here who knew this camp and how to defend it much better than he did.

  “Since we can’t evacuate, our best chance is to have as much advance warning of an attack as possible. We should have dragon riders patrolling at all times.” Trask directed his words at Darq again. “Kaden’s men can cover daytime shifts while you and your men take the night.”

  Darq nodded firmly.

  “We’ll monitor all activity at the barracks and in Landale,” Trask continued. “Beyond that, there’s nothing we can do until spring.”

  Daniel swallowed down a sigh of frustration. Even here Davira had them under her thumb now. Waiting around to see if she would attack again would put a strain on all of them and wouldn’t help morale, especially when combined with their food shortage.

  * * *

  Jace looked over the top of Kyrin’s head at a quiet knock at the cabin door. By this time, Kyrin’s mother had gotten up, and her brothers were in various stages of doing the same. Lydia opened the door to Lenae, who stepped in and gave her friend a hug. They talked in subdued tones, and Lenae went to work making breakfast for them.

  Giving Kyrin’s hand another gentle squeeze, Jace murmured, “I’m going to get some wood.” The wood box was nearly empty, and the least he could do was fill it.

  Kyrin only nodded.

  Jace pushed up from the chair, stretching his muscles. His lower back ached from sitting all night. Trading a sad look with Lenae, he walked to the door and slipped on his coat. Tyra followed him into the frigid air outside. He pulled on his gloves as he stood for a moment and looked around camp. Many of the men were up and about, but their movements seemed weighted by the invisible gloom that hovered.

  Jace’s gaze strayed in the direction of his cabin. Had only twenty-four hours passed since he’d been full of exciting plans for his future with Kyrin? He hung his head. It would take time now for the sorrow to fade enough for such excitement to return. The future he’d just started to build for himself and Kyrin could be snatched away just as quickly as lives were yesterday.

  Trudging through the snow toward their wood supply, Jace struggled with the terror that always rose up whenever he considered losing Kyrin. It was as if the frozen air were seeping right into his chest, freezing up his lungs and making it difficult to breathe. He shook his head to rid himself of the sensation. He would do whatever he could to protect her. Beyond that, he had to trust Elôm to keep her safe.

  At the woodpile, he filled his arms with firewood, ignoring the throbbing from his wound. After a moment, footsteps approached, and Holden walked up. Jace glanced at him, catching the sympathy in his friend’s eyes. They said nothing at first. Finally, Jace cleared his throat and asked, “How’s Rayad?”

  “Sore, but Josef was over a bit ago and wasn’t concerned.”

  Jace nodded, relief settling amongst his other emotions. He could still see Dagren standing over Rayad, about to kill him. If only Jace could have saved both Rayad and Michael.