The Book of Snow & Silence by Zoë Marriott

Author:Zoë Marriott [Marriott, Zoë]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-06-29T16:00:00+00:00

21

I gave Vangor a brief, gracious smile, carefully avoiding his eyes so that I would not have to pretend to ignore a look of amusement, or worse, pity. I stepped away from him and his charges as casually as I could, making a show of adjusting my fur-lined cap.

“...that boy hasn’t slept in his own bed for three nights...” the maid’s avid words echoed through my mind.

In my mind’s eye I visualised the katturispar again. A storm of ice. Freezing and deadly. But this time I imagined those icy daggers engulfing a girl. A girl with glossy red-black hair and slender, muscular limbs. I imagined the storm closing around the gracefully twirling shadows of her as she danced, engulfing her until there was nothing to be seen anymore – then falling quiet, soft snowflakes parting to reveal nothing but picked-clean bones, white as ivory.

I tasted blood again and sucked on my lip resignedly.

Behind me the bear gave a low, mournful moan and then a harsh grunt. I glanced back to see Uldar guiding Shell’s hand to pat the creature on its nose, between its beady black eyes. I stared.

She was wearing a long, thick fur like my own, though hers was in a deep red-brown that nearly matched her hair. But she wore no hat and – even odder – she was ungloved. Her fingers, against the animal’s streaky fur, were tiny and delicate. Through my gloves and muff I could feel the chill. I couldn’t believe her fingers hadn’t already shrivelled up from it.

“Ah! Look, he likes you!” Uldar exclaimed.

Skirpir was staring at Shell too. The animal’s eyes were fixed and unwavering and its entire huge body had gone utterly still, as if it were mesmerised. Liking? No, nothing so simple.

It is – afraid. The bear is afraid of the girl. But also fascinated by her.

How can that be?

Shell withdrew her hand from the bear’s muzzle, shoulders suddenly straightening as if she sensed another’s scrutiny. Her face turned in my direction. I spun back to face the forest.

“Princess Theoai!” Queen Miramand swept up to me briskly, ladies-in-waiting trailing behind. She took my arm with one mittened hand, ignoring my rigidity. I could barely feel the touch through all the layers of fur.

“As I thought,” she went on. “These furs are exquisite on you. Come along now. Leave the prince to his little pets.”

As one, the ladies-in-waiting laughed, although the Queen’s voice, sharp-edged, had not suggested humour. But I was grateful for their noise, their warmth, as they surrounded me like a fragrant honour-guard, gently manoeuvring me away from where my Prince stood with his Lady Silence.

“Have you come to see us off then, Highness?” I asked the Queen, in a pretense at normality.

Miramand’s brow wrinkled delicately, then smoothed. “Oh no, my dear. I am one of the party, of course – I cannot allow Uldar to run off on his adventures unchecked. Look what happened the last time he escaped my supervision.”

The courtiers made a sad murmuring noise of agreement.

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