Thread of Frost

Ch. 7: Fire in the Belly

She found Ryne at the top of the Grand Palace.

He was sitting at a long table, surrounded by quills and parchment. A salty breeze ruffled his dark hair. She could see a glimpse of the sea just past Ryne's left shoulder, framed by the white onion dome. A dragon dove toward the waves, accompanied by the screaming laughter of children on its back.

"Delafort," Anna said.

Ryne bent closer to the table, scribbling. She leaned against the wall.

"Delafort. Stop."

Ryne flipped over a piece of parchment. "You should be resting."

"I'm fine," Anna said.

It was mostly true; the somnium had numbed the worst of the pain, and she'd managed to choke down half a ham-and-cheese toastie (which had, conveniently, been toasted by a smug-looking Hellart). Her lungs burned a little from the stairs, but then again, Anna reflected, there were a lot of damn stairs. This palace was a bloody mountain.

Anna crossed her arms. "Are you writing to Penny?"

She could already guess the answer, but she wanted confirmation. Ryne didn't look up from his scribbling.

"No," he said.

Anna rubbed her chest. "Don't you want to tell her that you're alive?"

Ryne's mouth tightened. "I think we both know the answer to that."

"You could risk it," Anna offered. "Take the chance."

"Strategically, it would be a mistake." Ryne set down the quill, lacing his fingers. "If the letter was intercepted..."

He didn't need to finish the sentence. A shiver ran down her spine. "Lucia would know you're alive. She'd work out that we're together, and then she'd hunt us down."

Ryne inclined his head. "I'm buying us time." He picked up the quill. "Penny is strong. She'll be fine without me."

Anna crossed to the window. "The same goes for Grayson and Tristan, I suppose."

Ryne's quill bobbed. "As I said, I can't take the risk."

"And Isaac?"

The quill stilled. "What about him?"

"Do you think he knows about Camille?" Anna asked.

Ryne's shoulders tensed. "I think all of Wynterlynn knows by now." The quill started moving again, gliding smoothly over the parchment. "Isaac wants nothing to do with me. He's made that very clear over the last few months."

Anna turned. "And it's safer for him, isn't it? To stay away."

"I suppose." Ryne shrugged. "I hadn't really thought about it."

She studied him. Ryne's mouth was slack, his hand rotating in great loops across the parchment. He was a good liar, Anna thought; it was impossible to tell what he was thinking. But she knew him. Knew the way his mind worked. Even now, Ryne would cut off his right hand to keep Isaac safe.

She had never met someone so afraid to admit to their better impulses.

Anna blew out a breath. "Delafort..."

He continued to scribble. A warm breeze ruffled the parchment, sending several pages skittering across the desk. Anna crossed her arms.

"You should talk about it," she said.

Ryne didn't look up. "About what?"

Anna waited. Outside, a dragon roared, plummeting toward the sea like a blazing red star. Ryne set his quill down.