The snow has been heavier this year than any other. The cold has even begun to seep into my walls, but as usual, I keep a fire burning to stay warm. Today, however, I leave that warmth behind to take the road to the capital.
A royal ball is coming up, and my parents invited me, saying, "Bring Kaelith with you. Get out of the house. Have some fun with us here—we'll host you."
I couldn't say no to that offer.
So I left a note in Kaelith's room. He had still been nowhere to be found for the week.
Where the hell is he?
I don't know—but I do know he got the message, thanks to the letter left on my doorstep one day:
"Message received. I will be waiting for pickup, and I look forward to it."
The amount of comfort that brought me was almost abnormal. Being apart, not knowing where he was or what had happened to him—it was maddening. Terrifying.
When I reach the inn, I'm fully prepared to give him a piece of my mind. I storm up to his room, then stop short when I see him.
I gasp.
On instinct, I hug him. He lets out a small grunt.
"Where the hell have you been?" I ask, my voice shaking.
"Sorry," he says, almost too quickly. "It's been a tough week. Lots of work."
"Work?" I question.
Wasn't his job to find me? His job was to find me wasn't it? Whatever it is right now isn't the time to press.
He nods. "Not something I can talk about, sadly."
I look at him more closely. He looks even more exhausted than usual, as if his soul has been slowly drained from him. Whatever it is, I won't push—not now. I'll ask later. About everything. About the book.
I take his hand. "Come on. Let's get going."
We walk down together, load up the wagon, and make our way toward the capital. Despite how hard the snow and wind blow, it doesn't matter. I know this road blindfolded. So does Buttercup. I let go of the reins and let her guide us.
"You look tired," I say. "It'll take about an hour to get there. Why don't you rest, Kaelith?"
"I'll survive," he replies. "I've survived far worse."
"Is that all you care about?" I ask pointedly. "Surviving?"
"The only times I haven't felt like I was just surviving was a long time ago—and with you. I wish things were different."
"That's what the 25 fight for, though, right?" I ask, half-questioning. "To bring balance, so people don't just survive under the god?"
His eyes go wide. "So… you read it, then?"
I nod.
"And?" he asks, holding his breath.
"And maybe I'll bug you about it later," I say with a smirk, "if you sleep."
He looks ready to argue, but then he sees my expression—how worried I am. He sighs, throws his arms up in defeat, and lies down in the wagon.
"Just wake me when we get there."
I giggle, glad I got my way—but I'm a bit greedy. I move beside him, gently lift his head, and rest it in my lap.
"Um… Nyra?"
"Shush. Sleep. And consider this my revenge for a whole week of not talking to me."
He snorts as his eyes close. "Maybe I should disappear more often if this is my 'punishment.'"
His face turns red. I roll my eyes, shaking my head.
The wind softens, the snow falling gently now, blanketing everything outside. The road is quiet.
Peaceful.
So very peaceful.