Soul of Ice

Chapter Thirty-Eight

"How many times do you plan on doing this?"

Astra looked up. She had one knee in the black dirt, and her hand was caked in dust. In front of her, Helleva was staring at her, annoyed. "Third time's the charm," she told her.

"You better hope it is." Helleva waved a hand, and a shimmery image, almost like a blurry window, appeared. In it, Astra saw herself lying motionless on a table. Several people were surrounding her. "He barely got you back in time. They don't know if you'll survive."

"I'll live," Astra told her, the conviction in her voice surprising even herself.

The goddess raised an eyebrow.

"I'm not done. There's a lot I need to do." She didn't elaborate, but already, she had a list of things that she might need to take care of, though she didn't give voice to them.

"I doubt you'll feel this excited when—if—you wake up."

Astra laughed, a hoarse, scratchy sound that betrayed exactly how little humor she found in the situation. "Trust me, I'm not excited right now.

"I'm angry."

•

It was too warm, and she fidgeted, trying to reach...

"Hey, you're alright." Someone's face blurred into view. "I'll get you some water. Can you try and stay awake?"

She fell back asleep a moment after he left the room.

•

The second time she woke, the room was dark, but it was still too warm. She meant to move the blankets and sheets away, but when her arm reached forward, pain sliced through her like a blade.

Astra gritted her teeth, trying to breathe through the wound that felt like it was ripping her apart from the inside out.

She collapsed back against the bed.

•

"Who are you?" she asked. It was her third time up. He was sitting in a chair next to the bed she was in, reading, and occasionally making a mark, through a thick stack of papers.

"You're awake," he said, writing one last note before he set aside the pile and looked up. His olive eyes caught her off guard. Olan. No. He was someone else.

"Who are you?" she demanded. She was lying in a soft bed, hands scrunching up the soft fabric of the blanket covering her. Above her, the ceiling was slanted. An attic, then.

Her eyes snagged on the door across the room. Astra went to push herself up before a stab of pain shot through her chest.

"Hey." Olan pressed a gentle, but firm hand to her shoulder until she laid back down again. "I'm sorry I lied to you at the ball. My name's Solano."

She let the pain settle a bit before she closed her eyes for a moment. She opened them again and choked out, "The guardian of wind."

"Yes." Dressed in a wrinkled long sleeve shirt and black pants, he didn't look much like an immortal. His brown hair was wild and almost long enough to be called shaggy. Astra wondered why she hadn't noticed that before.

She shifted her focus away from the guardian's features and instead tried to push herself up. A bolt of pain immediately stabbed through her again. A gentle wind pushed her back on the bed.

"Take it easy. It'll take a while for that stab wound to heal."

He began to tuck her blankets up higher, and Astra snapped, "No. Help me sit up." Solano blinked. She added softly, "Please."

Astra winced with every shift as she tried to push herself up, Solano supporting her back with a cushion of air. By the time she'd settled into a leaning back position, she had started sweating.

"Good?" Solano asked after her breath had stopped constricting, and she nodded.

Once her wound had stopped throbbing, she asked, "What happened?"

"Carina and I fought." He grimaced. "I barely got you out—you had turned incorporeal, probably a response because of the pain, and I couldn't get a grip on you."

Astra shuddered. She had heard that wraiths automatically turned incorporeal after they were mortally wounded as a protective mechanism, but she had never experienced it herself. "Where's my brother?" She knew the answer, but knowing was different from the confirmation Solano would give her. "You didn't save him, did you? He's still in Venierre, isn't he?"

Solano gave a terse nod. "I only had time to save you."

Astra looked away. "How much danger is he in?" He didn't answer, and Astra fisted the blankets, ignoring the constant pain throbbing through her. "You're going to rescue him, aren't you? You must. Carina will kill him, if she doesn't torture him first."

"It's not that simple."

"It is to me."

"I'm doing my best. There are a lot of people who need rescuing, and a war that needs planning."

Astra went to run a hand through her hair, but stretching her arm burned her wound. She dropped her hand and added, "He's the prince of Solasia."

"And you're the crown princess of Solasia."

Astra eyed Solano. "I am an illegitimate princess of Solasia, and the people hate me. They would rather have my step-sister on the throne than me."

Solano asked her, "And why do they hate you, princess?"

Her nostrils flared at the underlying mocking tone. "Everyone knows about the rumors, and regardless of that, it's no importance." She glared down at the guardian of wind. "You say you have a war on your hands? Rescue Dalen, and he will convince our step-sister to ally against Pelosia, and if he cannot, he will come of age soon. The throne will rightfully belong to him.

"Having him would give us leverage," she insisted. "Not to mention, Carina managed to steal back some of the children from you, and there are adult wraiths who need saving as well." She hesitated for a few seconds, then added, "You do value wraith lives... don't you?"

Solano didn't bother responding to that jibe. He raised his eyebrow and asked, "Us?"

She took a deep breath. For her brother, she could throw away her dreams of not having to fight in another war. For this was what Helleva had warned. War is coming, Astreia. And it is coming for you. Fool, she was a fool. Hopes and dreams made fools of everyone. "Us," she emphasized, agreeing. "You can use some help, can't you?" She hadn't missed the dark smudges under his eyes. The contrast had helped her notice the bright of his irises. "I can fight, spy, whatever you need, whatever you need done. In return, you swear on your immortality you launch a rescue mission as early as possible, and afterwards, my brother and I will fight in your war. Neither of us can accomplish our goals alone."

Solano looked at her, his face completely impassive, giving nothing away. "And how can I trust that you're not actually working for someone else?"

She almosted snorted at that question. Almost. "Solasians turned their backs on me years ago. Pelosia, Varaly, and Auxerre all enslaved me in their own way. I can't make you trust me, but I can promise you this: my only allegiance I have is to my brother."

A silent few seconds passed as Solano stared at her, roving over her. Not in a vulgar way—just simple calculating. Thinking. She recognized the look from one she'd seen often in mirrors long ago—the face of a leader. A military commander. "Alright," Solano agreed before offering her a small smile. "Welcome to Aeris."

Astra furrowed her brows, her previous thoughts shaking away. "Aeris?" she asked. "That can't be right. Aeris was destroyed during the war. It's all rubble and ash; I saw it myself."

"Not this Aeris." The curtains behind him gently parted, and outside... they were near the middle of a beautiful, vibrant city. It was a clear day, and far away, the land simply... disappeared. Fell away, like... like they were an island, but the blue at the edges wasn't water. It was air. An endless expanse of sky. "Welcome to the Floating City."