Winterspell by Claire Legrand

Author:Claire Legrand
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Simon & Schuster Books for Young Readers

25

They spent the next day preparing to leave, and most of it was spent in silence. Nicholas seemed to sense that Clara wanted it that way. A combination of nightmares—some about her bones being picked clean by a cold wind, and some about Godfather covered in ash—had kept her awake most of the night. It felt good to occupy her thoughts with mindless, menial tasks: packing food, cleaning her daggers, letting Karras—mournful that he would no longer get to dress her—fit her for traveling clothes.

Clara worked, letting the sounds of Afa and Bo’s arguing about whether or not Bo would accompany them wash over her. Bo insisted that Clara and Nicholas needed a proper guide, and few knew the underground better than she did. Bo knew a couple of the people they would be traveling with, but she still wouldn’t trust them, not with this. Afa, unmoved, declared it out of the question.

The two sisters left Clara and Nicholas alone together only once. Nicholas was sharpening his sword—Godfather’s sword, Clara reminded herself, with a pang of silent despair. After a few minutes of this, he put down the sword and whetting stone, and turned to her.

“I have to say it. I know you probably don’t want to talk about it, but if I don’t say something, I’ll tear myself to pieces.”

Despite herself Clara was touched by the earnestness of his expression. “All right,” she said carefully.

“Clara, I’m sorry.” He seemed ready to reach for her hands, but he stopped himself and knelt before her, tense and distraught. “You must know—please know—that I didn’t want to kiss you like that. I would never force you to kiss me or touch me, or do anything you didn’t want to. It was torment, pushing myself on you like that. I hated every second of it.”

He would not make her do anything she didn’t want to do. How fitting that he should proclaim such a thing after Godfather’s warning. But could she believe him?

“Every second?” Conflicted he may have been, but the care with which he had touched her, the intensity of his kisses, had hinted at genuine feeling. Knowing this left her both mildly affronted, that he could take pleasure from such a moment, and bizarrely gratified. The incongruity unsettled her. “Surely I’m not so repulsive.”

“I’m serious, Clara.”

“I know you are. And thank you.”

“I hope we can still be friends. I want . . . I’d like most sincerely for us to be friends, always.”

He was so somber, so awkwardly formal. It was a struggle for Clara to remain neutral. But of course she had to. Until she knew for certain that Godfather was wrong in his accusations, she would assume that he was right.

“Of course we’re still friends.” She touched Nicholas’s arm. “Don’t worry. I just . . . I had a hard time of it. I was frightened.”

“I don’t blame you. I was frightened too. If I’d had to—if it had escalated—” He shook his head. “I’m not sure I could have done it, no matter the danger.

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