Claus

Twenty-Three

Arlo left Faryn and Cassian on a snow-covered hill outside of the city but still within Reyarney's borders. They had a clear view of the tracks at the bottom of the hill that the train would soon climb toward them.

         With their cloaks packed in their bags, they now wore jackets, Cassian's modified for his wings. His wings that were magnificently out.

         They stretched higher than his head and almost brushed the ground, stopping behind his calves. They were almost translucent but the silver and blue threaded throughout most of the wings made them stand visible against the city in the distance. What would they feel like? Were they smooth or would they be jagged like an uncut diamond? They were not what she would describe as thin and dainty like a dried leaf waiting to crumble. Delicate was the better word. Not that she would dare describe them as such to him. They were like caramelized sugar—not thin but not thick either—as if a little bit of force would cause them to snap, but that couldn't be the case otherwise he wouldn't have been able to fly with them both in Sleet City against the wind wanting to smash them into the rocks or the sea.

         It took her an absurd amount of time to realize Cassian had caught her staring. She expected him to be irritated, but instead his chest puffed out a little and a smirk played on his lips. She rolled her eyes. Stoking his ego was not something she wanted to contribute to in the slightest. After all, she hadn't been able to stop turning over their conversation from last night. She was twenty-two; she didn't have other powers. And petty and vindictive? That was not who she was. Even if she would very much like to see him tumble down this hill.

Shortly after Arlo had dropped them off, Peter had texted them that both he and Clíodhna had made it into the train car without any issues. Though it was only a matter of hours, maybe minutes, before Winter heard the Easter Bunny was leaving Reyarney.

She still didn't know how she felt about the Leprechaun. Clíodhna had been spying on them last night. Why did she want to help them when the danger was so high? Faryn and Cassian were fugitives, Peter a possible suspect. Desperation and necessity bonded them together. Associating with them was as good as damning yourself.

         Faryn adjusted her bag's strap where it rested on her shoulder, finally turning herself away from Cassian. At least he didn't make a comment about her staring.

         Snow had fallen on the tracks and waited to be melted by the heat of the train as it passed over head. What would it be like to control snow or wind or frost or ice?

         With her hand at her side, she turned it ever so slightly, in the hopes Cassian either wouldn't notice or wouldn't be able to tell what she was doing. She pictured the snow on the tracks moving toward the center of a beam to form a pile.

         She let out a deep breath, her breath curling in the air before her.

         Nothing. Nothing happened. Not even the wind blew to trick her into believing she had done something magical.

         The wind might as well have slapped her with as much as it felt like it was mocking her. She shouldn't feel disappointed. She didn't even want her family's power.

         But would it have been that awful to control some tiny part of winter? If only to be able to defend herself?

         She caught Cassian staring at her. He must have figured out what she had attempted. What if he was right? What if at her core she was petty and vindicative? Could he possibly know her that well or was she pathetically easy to read? Maybe that meant she was shallow.

         She scowled and angled herself away from him.

         She didn't like the idea that he might know her, or worse, she might know him. Knowing them, trusting them, calling them a friend was when Fae struck. For all she knew, Cassian's toleration of her was an act to get her to lower her guard. He'd had opportunity to kill her or to let her die, but none of that meant anything if he was a sadist, waiting for the moment it elicited the most pain for her and pleasure for him.