The Deathsinger: Book 1

Ch. 18: An Apology

The gentle snowfall quickly turned into a nuisance as we wound our way up the mountain. Flurries turned to fat clumps that obscured vision and made the path treacherous beneath the horse's hooves. After much cursing, Yoko announced we could go no farther and stopped at the first traveler's rest area—a small flat space beneath an overhang and evergreens that provided shelter from the worst of the inclement weather.

Between Yoko and Tievel, now much improved after hours of rest, the tents were raised quickly. With a snap of the prince's fingers, a cheerful fire blazed within a circle of stones that had been put together so long ago they looked as if they'd risen from the ground in a perfect ring.

Needing to be useful, I set the water to boil and threw together a simple stew. It wouldn't be the tastiest meal this lot had ever eaten, but it would fill our bellies with sustenance and warmth. Yoko appeared mildly impressed when she peered into the pot, but she smothered the expression quickly when she caught me watching her.

"I thought you only found one tent," Astreia said, tugging a woolen cap over her head. Bitter cold forced her to cover herself from head to toe, an uncharacteristic sight at night for the Starlight princess who adored showing off her sparkling skin whenever the chance presented itself.

"Found two."

"Obviously," Tievel muttered, twirling a finger over the fire, calling the flames higher into the air until a golden glow washed over our encampment.

"One for the girls?" Astreia said, rolling her lip between her teeth before flashing a wicked grin in Yoko's direction.

Tievel snorted. "Don't be foolish. I have no need for an entire tent to myself. Morana will share with me."

Yoko and Astreia protested simultaneously. The spoon in my hand slipped and landed in the stew with a splat. Napping next to one another beneath an open sky was one thing. Laying side by side in a dark, enclosed space with the cold pushing us together for heat was another thing entirely. One that thrilled and terrified me.

"It's not up for debate."

"She's a Deathsinger," Yoko emphasized, her blunt hair slicing across her cheekbones as she looked between Tievel and me.

"Tievel, may I speak with you?" Astreia's tone was unusually respectful.

He dropped his hands to his side, his head tilted while he stared into the fire, his normally pale blue irises a black backdrop for the reflection of twisting flames. It was as if they were portals to the Other Realm, swallowing all the surrounding light.

Blinking slowly—once, twice, and a third time—he at last jerked his chin at the princess in acknowledgement and sauntered to the treeline. Astreia joined him, and the wind carried away their whispered words.

I spooned dinner into a tin cup and handed it to Yoko, even though I wanted to toss the contents into her beautiful face. She took the offering, sniffed it with uncertainty, and grimaced before shoveling the first bite into her mouth. Eyebrows shot into her hairline and a second and third bite quickly followed.

"This is palatable," she admitted around a mouthful.

"Not bad for a murdering Deathsinger," I said with a snarl as I settled on a log with my food. The other two could make their own plates once they were done discussing me.

Unfazed, the soldier shrugged before shoveling in another spoonful. "You cannot help what you are. It is in your nature to be a creature of Death, and High Elves are your targets. You may believe them to be your friends, but eventually, what you are will overcome any good intentions you have."

"Then, I suppose you can't help your nature, either," I replied, poking my spoon at her.

"What is that supposed to mean?"