Crown of Fire (Book 3 in the Crown Trilogy)

Thirty

"No, you don't," I say, panting for breath. I crawl to her side and pound my fist to her chest. "You don't get to leave me now. Breathe!"

She takes each blow without so much as batting an eye, but I don't stop. If leaving her chest covered in bruises is what it takes, I will do it until she is black and blue. We set off on this journey together and may the Statera damn me if we don't finish it together.

Water bubbles between her blue lips. I push my relief to the back of my mind and continue my efforts. Ashavee and I roller her to her side. My hand slaps her back until she is coughing and gasping. I want to hug her, cry, and laugh all at once, but my chattering teeth remind me that we are not safe. We need to get warm.

I don't hesitate, helping Greer to her feet and wrapping her arm around my shoulders. Our bodies rattle together like autumn leaves tussled in the wind. It is impossible to stand straight, let alone walk while gripping one another. I pick up my discarded clothes and wrap my cloak around us. My boots hang from my hand as we wobble our way across the lake. The cold inches up my legs, threatening to freeze my muscles, but I grit my teeth and bear the pain.

We step on steady ground, and Greer slips from my grip, falling to her knees. I pull at her arms to get her on her feet, but her body will not budge. Tears run down her face as she gasps for breath. My strong and fierce friend does not cry. She perseveres and carves her own path. Greer is unstoppable. I won't let this be the moment she gives up.

I slink my arms beneath hers and drag her to where two large trees have fallen. The ground between them is mostly free from snow. It is the closest we will come to finding shelter right now. I rest her on her back, grab my bedroll and blanket from Nortus' back, and lay them between the logs. Greer trembles, making it difficult to remove her soaked clothes. I place her naked body in the blankets, covering the top of her head to keep the heat in.

My muscles fight against me as I struggle to yank off my tunic, trousers, and undergarments. I feel like I'm wound tight, on the verge of snapping and crumbling to the ground in a boneless heap. My eyes flutter shut, and I stumble forward, jarring me awake. Greer isn't the only one endangered by the cold. Both of us need to get warm soon.

Ashavee brings me the bedroll from Greer's horse and her blanket. I place the roll over the logs to cover us from any new snowfall and climb under the blankets with Greer. I fold her into my arms, pulling her freezing body to mine. It doesn't seem to help. We are like two blocks of ice presses together. Our teeth chattering fills the quiet. I can't think far beyond their noise, and my building fear. I pray this isn't how we die. It would be a terrible ending to an even bigger tragic tale.

As if she feels my terror, Ashavee joins us, placing her furry body over ours. The weight of her is comforting. Warmth spreads through me, calming the violent shaking of my body to occasional shivers. Greer's teeth stop chattering and she returns my embrace. We sink into the delightful heat emanating from us.

"We need to keep going," Greer says, her voice raspy like she hasn't used it in ages.

I cuddle in closer to her and press my cheek to her shoulder. "You need to rest a little longer."

"It doesn't matter what I need. We need to get going. It will be night soon."

She sits up, exposing me to the cold. I hate it. If I never see another snowflake for the rest of my life, it will be too soon.

We each take a blanket and set to work finding dry clothes. Ashavee grabs her boots from her satchel on Nortus' saddle and drops them at Greer's feet. They are too big for her, but they're better than the now frozen pair she had on when she fell through the ice.

I'm hesitant to continue traveling so quickly after Greer's brush with death. Her skin is still dull and her movements slow. Even the braid down the center of her head is a mess of sparkling ice. She needs more time to heal. If I thought it wasn't so dangerous, I'd send her back to the rocks with the others. It doesn't matter, I could order her to leave, but she wouldn't.

We mount our horses, and Ashavee keeps pace with us as we make our way toward a cluster of tall pine trees. The sun hangs just above their tops, waiting to sink behind them for the night. We enter under the canopy of pine needles. Snow covers the upper branches like puffy clouds tangled in gnarled fingers. It gives us shelter from the brutal wind but makes it impossible to know if we are being followed. Droplets of water fall from crystal icicles, tapping into small puddles, and clumps of snow fall to the ground with an echoing splat. My hand hovers over my sword, and my eyes burn from keeping them wide open, anticipating the next catastrophe that works to disrupt our mission.

Not only does nothing out of the ordinary happen, but I feel at peace with what we are doing. A quiet voice in my head repeats what the sibyl told me: Others have failed because it is not theirs to find. I was meant to find the Imperium.

After folding the map, I tuck it away and take the lead of our group. I don't know why. I'm not familiar with this forest—when or where it will end. For all I know, I'm guiding my friends to their death. But I don't think so. A feeling this strong can't be wrong.

The path I take has no rhyme or reason. I turn left around a boulder and right at the trunk of a massive pine. We travel straight for some time, and suddenly I have an innate desire to veer right. The sky turns orange and violet with stars sparkling at the very edge, but I don't turn to the map. I simply listen to that gut feeling. It's like bird wings flapping in the pit of my stomach whenever I change directions. Whatever lies beyond these trees holds the Imperium.

We exit the woods only to end up in another desolate clearing. It's dark, with only a sliver of the moon peeking through the gray clouds. The snow glitters under its cornflower rays. It's not the ethereal oasis or stone-carved monument I pictured in my head. It's... nothing.

I sigh and lean forward in my saddle, resting an elbow on the horn as I sweep the stray hair away from my face. A defeated breath rattles my lips, and I say, "I'm so sorry. I really thought I was taking us the right way."

"Let me see the map," Greer says, her words slow and quiet.

I dig into my jacket pocket and hold it out to her. She doesn't take it, instead she looks past me. With her mouth hanging open, her eyes fill with wonder. Ashavee lowers her hind legs, sitting in the snow as she stares in the same direction. I inch around and the same expression of awe consumes my face.

Five gigantic spires of red rock loom over us, without a flake of snow on them. The formations bow and retract as if the Statera poured them in liquid from and then froze them in place. I crane my head back to see the highest peak. Highlighted by the galaxies rests a small ivory temple with a domed roof.

I don't need to see the map. The intuition that brought us to this place buzzes inside me. My redemption is the highest spire, and my hope found in that temple. Our search for the Imperium has ended, leaving me with seven haunting words. This quest is yours and yours alone.