Thread of Frost

Ch. 50: Brace Yourself

"Isolde." His voice was warm in her ear. "If I tell you to run, then you run. Okay?"

Her body trembled. She closed her eyes.

"Iz?" Julian repeated.

Her chest squeezed. "I can't do this."

"Her mark," Grayson said tightly. "It's giving off too much light."

Was it? Isolde hadn't realized. Her skin felt tight and itchy. Her forehead pulsated, and violet light burst behind her eyelids. "Isolde." Julian's breath tickled her neck. "Take deep breaths. Try to slow your heartrate."

"Sorry," she whispered.

"It's alright," Julian murmured. "Just keep trying."

Penny cursed again. "They're getting closer."

The violet light shone brighter. Isolde clapped a hand over her forehead, but the light seeped through her fingers, filling the cave with the first breath of a sunrise. Panic swelled in her chest. "I can't control it."

Penny's mouth tightened. "It's too late. They've seen us." She picked up the sword. "Brace yourself."

Four people stepped into the clearing.

Isolde stilled. The figures drifted like restless ghosts across the frozen field, half-human and half-mirage. Snow coated their hair like ash. There were two men and two women, but none of them were Halson, Isolde realized, crushing relief punching her in the chest.

Next to her, Penny stiffened.

"Ryne?" Penny asked.

Her voice was hoarse. The closest figure stepped into the light. He had green eyes, Isolde realized; the same green eyes as Penny. A dark-haired young woman came next, a silver knife clutched in one hand.

"Anna," Grayson breathed.

The green-eyed boy — Ryne Delafort, Isolde presumed — took a step closer. Penny raised her sharp blade. "Stay where you are."

Ryne paused. "Pen..."

"You're dead." The sword shook. "I watched you die."

Ryne held up his hands. "I can explain."

"This is a trick," Penny whispered.

"It's me," Ryne said. "I'm here."

He took a step closer. Penny swung the sword; the gold blade slashed through the darkness, bright as a midnight sun; it stopped just short of Ryne's throat. He stilled. "My gods." There was something like awe in his voice. "You actually found it."

"Explain," Penny said. "Now."

Ryne's green eyes were steady. "I went after Anna during the wedding. I had the Scythe take my place. It was meant to be temporary, but then..." His throat moved. "Well, you know what happened next."

Something flashed across Penny's face. Pain. Grief. Something sharp and cutting as glass. She kept the sword level, although her hand shook slightly. "Tell me something only you would know. Something specific."

Ryne exhaled. "You once wrote a story called Evil Prince Ryne Steals the Last Croissant. It featured a very unflattering drawing of me in a yellow waistcoat beheading servants to get to a pastry, which is ridiculous." He paused. "I'd never wear yellow."

Penny let out a sob.

The sword clattered to the snow. She threw herself at Ryne, who caught her easily, his gloved hand burrowing in her hair. Penny clung to the lapels of his wool jacket, pressing her face into his chest. "I thought you were dead."