I gawk at the sickles, more wealth than I’ve ever seen in my entire life.
“But where…how…what…” I say, unable to pull my eyes off the shiny coins.
“Exactly,” Abe says. “All of that. This ’ere, kid, is yer share.”
I keep on staring, wondering when I’m gonna wake up. “Share of what?” I finally say.
“The silver!” Abe says. “Ain’t you been payin’ attention?”
I manage to tear my eyes from Tower’s hand, look at Abe. “Nay, I mean, what’s it for? I didn’t realize we were in business together.”
Abe laughs and then stops suddenly, seeing Jolie’s resting form in the bed against the wall. “Poor kid,” he says. “I heard what happened. She’ll be all right?”
“I don’t know,” I admit.
Tower grunts something. “My brother offers his well wishes,” Abe says. Before I can even wonder how Abe can understand anything his brother says, he continues. “When the riders tore through the castle, not to mention you and yer strange friends running about, it was like a free fer all fer all the lowlifes in ice country…”
“What does that have to do with you?” I say.
“Well, thank you for sayin’ that, kid, but I’m proud to be a part of such a rowdy and mischievous bunch. Anyway, we snuck our way in like rodents, keepin’ behind the melee. It took ten men and Hightower ’ere to break into the palace vault, but we did it. Now I’m richer than the richest snow-blowers in the White District. Tis only fair that you get a share for everythin’ you been through. Consider it payment for killing my biggest enemy, may the king rot in a shallow grave.”
“Did you know the king was hiding behind a puppet figurehead?” I ask
Abe chews his lip. “Well, I had my suspicions, but never enough to prove anything. But now one’s dead and the other ain’t far behind, so enjoy the spoils.”
Feeling the weight of the coins in my hands, I lift a hand to my forehead, feeling the room spinning. “I don’t know what to—”
“Don’t say a freezin’ thing, kid. Just take it,” Abe says, smirking. “I’m not usually this generous, so be quick ’fore I change my mind.”
I don’t have to be told twice. I cup both hands together, knowing I’ll need two hands for one of Hightower’s. Abe’s brother tilts his palm and lets the silver fall like shimmering rain into my hands, piling up and filling them to overflowing, and yet still they fall, clattering to the floor, scattering.
“Thank you,” I say, misty-eyed, but I’m talking to Abe’s back, because he’s already at the door.
“Hope the kid gets better,” he says, opening the door and stepping outside.
“I’m sorry about your wife,” I say, but I don’t know if he hears me.
Hightower lingers for a moment, staring off at Jolie. Then he starts to lumber over to her. “Whoa there, Tower,” I say, springing in front of him. Luckily he stops, because if he didn’t I’d be human paste under his feet. “The door’s that way,” I say, motioning to where Abe’s waiting outside.
Tower grunts, points to Jolie. I look up, way up, into his eyes, which are crystal-blue, and ogre-sized, like everything else on him. I never realized his eyes were blue, and for some reason it surprises me. “You want to see her?” I say, replacing see with eat in my head.
He nods. I hope he means see and not the word I was thinking.
I chew on my mouth for a second. Hightower, despite his somewhat scary and threatening appearance, has been nothing but good to me, other than when he held Buff back so Abe could beat the living shivballs out of me. But I probably deserved it then, and he did save my life on at least two occasions. If nothing else, he’s earned my trust.
I step aside to let him pass, watching his every move like a hawk.
He approaches Jolie, kneels down—which means he’s still almost as tall as me—reaches toward her. My spine stiffens, but I don’t stop him. His movements are slow, almost gentle, if gentleness is possible from such a large person.
He touches a single finger to Jolie’s forehead, runs it along her skin, pushes a few strands of loose hair away from her eyes. And if all that’s not surprising enough, his next move is so shocking I swear a lightning bolt hits me in the head. He kisses the same finger, and then places it on her forehead, as if kissing her with his lips would be inappropriate coming from such a gargantuan.
He stands, grunts something, I think a farewell, and then ducks through the door and is gone.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Three days later Jolie still hasn’t moved.
With only two days before Skye and her gang leave to find the Stormers, Feve’s been teaching the healers what they’ll need to do for Jolie after he’s gone.
Skye insists I’m not coming with her, but I am. At least that’s what I’m telling Buff.
“I’m going,” I say.
“You sure you want to leave Jolie?” he asks for the third time.
I shake my head. “I don’t want to, Buff, ice it! By the Heart of the Mountain you know that’s true. But I have to. You know I do. I owe Skye, Siena, all the others. I owe it to Jolie to find out the truth.”
“But isn’t Skye telling you not to come?”
“Yah, but I’m freezin’ going anyway, okay?”
“Okay, okay. I’ll watch out for her while you’re gone.”
“Nay. Clint and Looza already said they’ll do it. You’ve got to come with us.”
Buff’s face falls. “Dazz, you know I want to, more than anything, but I can’t. Father, he’s not getting back on his feet anytime soon and I have to get a job—a real job—or Darce and the others are gonna starve.”
I smile. Not at the thought of Buff’s bed-ridden father or of his brothers and sisters starving, but because I have a solution. Compliments of Abe and Hightower. Buff takes my smile the completely wrong way. “Something funny?” he says, his fists coiled at his side.
Things must be really bad at home if his temper’s gotten as bad as mine. I speak quickly. “What if I pay you in advance to help us find Skye’s sister?” I say.
His eyebrows shoot up and he stares at me like I’ve been punched in the head one too many times, which I probably have. “Pay me? I don’t want to come as part of a job. I want to come because you’re my friend.”
I feel a bit of foolish warmth in my heart so I smack a fist in my hand to compensate. “Not like a job,” I say. “Like a donation. To your family. So you can come.”
“You’ve barely got more silver than me, and you’ll need to give it all to Clint to take care of Jolie and your mother while you’re gone.”
I keep smiling as I tell him about Abe’s little visit. He doesn’t believe me until I show him the pouch of silver coins. “Holy mother of all shivballs!” he exclaims. “You’re rich, Dazz!”
I nod because I am, and because sickles solve problems. “So you’ll do it?”
“Chill yah, I’ll do it,” he says, all smiles and taut muscles.
~~~
“Sear it, I’m gonna miss you when we leave,” Skye says, running a finger along my hand.
I laugh. “You know, I really love your honesty, Skye, but I’m coming with you.”
“You ain’t.”
“Think what you want to,” I say.
“My fists say you ain’t,” she says, and I laugh again.
“You can’t fight me,” I say. “Remember what happened last time? We might as well skip the fighting part and go straight to the other part.”
“You want to?” Skye says, her eyes bold and sharp as they cut into mine.
This time I really hope Jolie can’t hear us.
Skye leans into me and I scoop a hand around the back of her neck, slip it under her coat, feel the warmth of her smooth skin, pull her even closer. Her forehead touches mine and we look at each other, all the way in, closer than close, her brown chestnut eyes bearing her soul to me, and I can see—nay, feel—how much she wants me, how when she looks at me she feels the same way I do when I l
ook at her.
I touch her jaw with my other hand, just below her ear, running my thumb along her brown skin. And then we kiss, more tenderly and slowly than the last time, when it was all adrenaline and urgency and—
I pull back, glancing sharply at Jolie, who I thought I saw move.
“What?” she says, following my gaze.
Jolie continues sleeping as still as a stone, just like she’s been the whole time.
Feeling foolish, I say, “Sorry, Skye, I thought—I just thought I saw…”
“It’s okay,” Skye says with that raspy voice of hers that makes me shake with desire. She touches a gentle hand to my face, brushing the scruff of my beard. “Time’ll heal everythin’,” she says.
~~~
One day till Skye leaves. (And me with her?)
I know, I know, I’ve been saying all along how I’m going, how Buff’s going with me, how I owe them and have to help Skye and Siena find her sister…but…but…
Jolie.
How can I leave my sleeping angel sister alone in her bed, maybe to wake up one day without me there by her side? After all she’s been through, how could I ever do that? The warmth of the fire is making me sweat.
I’m brooding over my thoughts, changing my mind again and again, when there’s a knock on the door. Usually Skye and Buff and the others just come right in, so it surprises me. Abe again maybe?
I wipe my sleeve on the frosted glass so I can take a peek. My breath hitches. What am I seeing?
I rush to the door, thrust it open, slamming it off the wall, but not caring, not caring, because—
—standing before me is my mother, practically withered away to nothing, all skin and bones and as pale as the Glassies, but that doesn’t matter, because she’s standing on her own two feet.
“Dazz,” she says, her voice as whispery as it always is, like when she’s murmuring nonsense at the fire. But there’s no nonsense in it, because it’s her—it’s really her. Not drugged-out Mother, but the real one, the one who was always there, always around when father was working in the mines, who only left us when he did.
My brain’s telling me to turn her away, to tell her to come back when she’s been clean for more than a day, a month at least, but every instinct in my body is saying different. And after everything—Wes and Jolie and Skye and the king—I can’t, I can’t be the firm hand on her now, because I need her, maybe every bit as much as she needs me.
I step forward and curl my arms around her, feeling my heart beating firmly against her head, which rests on my chest. I hold her and hold her and hold her, and I feel her body shaking as she sobs into me, but then I realize I’m shaking too, just letting go, letting everything out of me, because she’s my mother again, and she can make all the bad stuff go away.
I don’t know how long we stand there, just hugging, just being mother and son again, but by the time we pull apart there’s snow on our eyebrows and in our hair from the big, fluffy flakes that have begun to fall, coating everything, including us, in white.
“Want to come inside?” I ask.
She bites her lip and nods, frozen tears on her pale cheeks.
Her tears melt from the warmth of the fire while we sit next to each other, watching Jolie sleep. We don’t say anything, except when, from time to time, Mother strokes Jolie’s hair and murmurs, “My baby, oh, my sweet baby.”
I just watch her, wonder how things could’ve been different had my father not died, or if mother was able to cope with it better. Would we be different, Jolie and I? How much was lost by my mother’s actions, by her weakness? Although I don’t want it to, my red, red temper starts to rise.
I clench my fists in my lap to try to squeeze it back down.
Mother’s eyes flick to my hands. “I know, Dazz,” she says. “You’re angry. You have every right to be.” She won’t look at me, keeps her eyes on Jolie, and I don’t blame her. I’d be scared of me too if I were in her position.
“You as good as abandoned us,” I say through my teeth.
“I know.”
“Father didn’t have a choice—it was the disease that took him—but you—”
“I know.”
“You could’ve been stronger, could’ve taken care of us, helped us through the loss that hurt us every bit as much as it hurt you.”
“I know, Dazz.”
“Jolie was just a little girl…is just a little girl. And Wes…Wes had to become a man, take care of all of us, well before any kid should have to. And now he’s…” And I can’t say it, can’t say it, not one more time.
“I know, Dazz.”
“You know nothing!” I rage, burning a hole in the side of her head with my eyes. Still she won’t look at me, because she’s too weak, like she’s always been. “Look at me!” I demand, and she flinches a little, her cheek raised, turning red, like she’s been slapped.
Slowly, so slowly, she turns to face me, her eyes filled with moisture and failure. “I’m sorry, I—”
She reaches for me, but I’m not ready to touch her, still hot and quivering with anger.
“—I hate myself for it,” she says, the tears dripping out of her eyes and falling all the way to my feet, splashing on my boots.
The hurt, the anger, the accusations, all of it, falls away from me, leaving me as bare as if I was naked, stripped to my very soul. Before me sits a broken woman, my mother, who’s punishing herself for what she’s done far more than I ever could. And she won’t…nay, can’t get through this without me supporting her, especially with Father and Wes gone. All we’ve got is each other and Jolie, and that has to be enough, will be enough. I’m sure of it.
I push into her arms for the second time, clutch her tighter than before.
When I pull back, I say, “Let me make you a cup of tea,” and her teary smile warms me more than the fire, or a cup of tea, ever could.
~~~
“Thank you,” I say, having spoken those words many times before, but never meaning them as much as now. Mother told me how Wilde helped her over the past few days, how without her she’d never have defeated the drugs.
“I’m just glad I could help,” Wilde says, and I can tell she means her words too.
It’s just us, walking through the woods on the edge of the village, while my mother, Skye, and Buff look after my sister. It’s the first time I’ve left the house in days, and the cool chill of the air makes me feel alive again. And going with Wilde…that was my request.
“Wes and I,” I say, my voice cracking slightly, as it always does when I say my brother’s name, “we tried so many times…”
“It’s okay,” Wilde says, taking my hand, squeezing it, making me feel better with only those two words and her simple touch.
I can’t help but think about how different someone’s touch can feel from another’s. When Skye holds my hand, it’s like my whole body’s on fire, reaching for hers, pushing for her, needing to be closer to every part of her. And when I held my mother’s hand earlier today, it felt warm and safe. But now, holding Wilde’s hand, it’s different still. A whole world of different, like nothing I’ve ever felt before. So full of caring and mystery and strength, like she’s giving me her strength through my glove, through my skin, charging it into me. And although she only feels sisterly to me, I can see why Buff is so taken by her.
“How did you do it?” I ask. I have to know, in case my mother ever falls again—so I can save her myself.
Wilde releases my hand, extends her palm, and catches a snowflake on it. We both stop walking as she studies it, as if committing every last detail to her memory. I watch her, somewhat awkwardly, unsure of what to do or say.
When the snowflake finally melts from the body heat coming through her glove, she looks at me and says, “Everything beautiful must die eventually. And to her, your father was the most beautiful thing in the world. All she needed was to understand that.”
And, of course, that explains everything and nothing, but I’m thankful for it either way.<
br />
~~~
I still feel sort of awkward being alone with him, but I couldn’t put it off any longer, so I pulled him aside.
Feve stares at me with dark eyes, waiting expectantly. “Are we just going to look at each other all day, Icy?” he asks.
I take a deep breath. “Look, I know things have been…rocky for us from the start, but I want to thank you. I don’t know if my sister will wake up, but she’d be dead without you; and you never backed down from a fight that wasn’t really yours in the first place. So thank you.”
Feve raises his chin, cocks his head to the side, looks at me thoughtfully. “I still don’t like you much,” he says, “but I accept your thanks. And you did save my life once. Who knows, maybe we’ll become friends one day.”
Not today, I think. “Maybe,” I say, nodding.
Chapter Thirty-Five
They’re leaving later today, Siena and Circ and Wilde and Feve and Skye.
Going to find the Stormers. To find Jade, if she’s still alive. It may be the last time I see any of them again. Buff’s going too, even though I’m not. He said he’ll get my revenge for me, as long as I take care of his family.
I’m scared of losing all of them, but I won’t abandon my family, not when we’re so broken to pieces, and yet feeling like we have the potential to be whole again.
Skye said she’ll come around later to say goodbye, but I think she’s delaying it as much as I am.
Mother’s out. I know, it sounds weird even to me. She hasn’t been out in a long time, doing normal things. The bakery, which was burned to the ground during the Stormer attack, has been temporarily relocated and is back up and running, so she took some of Abe’s silver and went with Wilde to buy some fresh bread. I’m thankful we don’t have to eat Buff’s hard rolls anymore.
I’m holding Jolie’s hand, just holding it, telling her a story. A story about her brother’s bravery, about how Wes was her hero, trying to break down walls to get to her, to save her. How he gave his life to save hers. My tears are flowing before I’m even halfway finished.