Thread of Frost

Ch. 47: You and Me and Everything In Between

Isolde stared.

Julian took another cautious step forward. His blue eyes were soft. But it was him, Isolde thought wildly; he was here, somehow, in Halson's quarters. The wind battered at the window, and candlelight flickered over his face. He looked on the verge of saying something — what, she didn't know — when the second guard lunged.

"Behind you!" Isolde said.

Julian seized a broken wine bottle. She flinched as Julian smashed the bottle against his head; the man dropped like a stone.

Julian dropped the bottle. "Isolde—"

He reached for her, and Isolde winced. Julian paused. Something like pain flitted across his face, and he held up his hands; the skin was cracked and bleeding, embedded with shards of glass. "I'm not going to hurt you."

"Don't touch me." Isolde hugged her arms to herself. "Please."

"Okay." Julian took a step back. "I'm staying here."

Isolde bit down on her tongue. She could still feel Halson's hands crawling over her body, burrowing beneath her skin like phantom parasites. She wanted to scrub her body raw. Wanted to burn her own skin just to cauterize it. She looked at the two guards — unconscious on the floor — and back to Julian.

"I don't understand," Isolde whispered.

Julian's mouth tightened. "He made me watch."

Fresh horror washed over her. "How much did you...?"

"Everything." Julian's voice was tight. "I saw everything." He rounded on Halson, seizing the wine bottle. "You disgusting piece of—"

"Julian!" Isolde said.

She could hear footsteps thundering down the corridor, male voices shouting over one another. More guards must have heard Halson's cry for help. She pressed the button on her thigh, sheathing the knife.

"Get me away from here," Isolde said. "Please."

Julian hesitated. He was holding the bottle aloft, as if he'd like nothing more than to bring it down on his cousin's face. Halson lifted a bleeding hand, his face twisted in anticipation. Panic clawed at her throat.

"Please," Isolde repeated.

Julian lowered the bottle. His chest was pumping up and down, and his face was the colour of old parchment. Two red spots burned high on his cheekbones. He nodded, striding towards the door.

"I know a way out," Julian said. "Let's go."

***

Isolde burst out of the tunnel.

Snow rained down in shards of cold, glittering glass. She could feel the damp soaking through her fur cloak. The night was dense and dark, woven tightly as the seams of a tapestry. The only light came from the palace windows.

"Isolde," Julian called. "Wait."

He strode across the icy lawn, cursing as he slipped. His dark hair was mussed, his cheeks flushed with cold. He wasn't used to travelling outside the manicured palace gardens, Isolde realized; but she had grown up crawling in Bardan's sewers, walking in the city's dimly lit alleys. The unknown didn't frighten her.

She started forward. Julian doubled his pace.

"Isolde."

She picked up her cloak, breaking into a jog. Footsteps crunched behind her.

"Isolde."

A hand caught her arm. Isolde flinched. Suddenly, she was back in the room with Halson, and it was Halson's hand touching her, Halson's breath on her neck. Julian retreated, holding his hands up.