Page 37

“The human kingdom,” he says evenly.

Dawsyn’s stomach roils. “You’re not serious?”

He hesitates, stopping in the act of sheathing a sword on his back. “I am.” He frowns. “Did you think you and the people of the Ledge were the only ones?”

She laughs. Surely, there are not humans so near? “I thought no human would dare come so close to a mountain of monsters. I thought whatever had once been there was destroyed by the Glacians and the surviving humans were taken to the Ledge. Is that… not so?”

Ryon shakes his head. “The kingdom is made up of villages. Only the south side was taken – it was the closest. The north side is farther away and it remains.”

Dawsyn reels, though she keeps her voice steady. “Do they know about us? About the Ledge?”

Ryon nods carefully. “They do. There are shrines dedicated to your people. You will see them throughout Terrsaw.”

“Terrsaw?”

“It is the name of the land,” he tells her.

“And how have you come to know of Terrsaw’s shrines?”

He frowns. “Because I’ve been there, obviously.”

“And… what? Theyletyou?”

He shrugs. “I can be convincingly human.”

Her eyes roam the length of him and she supposes he is right. Without wings, there is no evidence of his Glacian blood. He is tall and muscled and built like a Glacian. His jawline is as menacing, but it will not give him away. When she is trailing behind him, her eyes to the back of his bare neck, watching the beads of sweat slip past his collar, she forgets what lies in his blood, too.

“Do you think your friends still search for us?” she asks.

He ignores the gibe. “I do not think so. We are far from the palace now. They will not bother coming so far for one girl.”

With that, he strides off, his great feet crunching through freshcanvassed snow and Dawsyn, without other options, follows.

The grade of the slope is far less treacherous here and it is a blessing to her calves, which are close to their demise. She has secretly worried each hour, each minute, that her muscles and bones will fail her. But she knows weariness well; she is intimate with the ache of cold and fatigue and so she quiets the sound of her body’s protests.

“Tell me about the people of the Ledge,” Ryon says to her over his shoulder.

The sunlight stretches to glance off his hair and turns it to a rich brown, distracting her.

“I doubt it will be of much interest to you,” she huffs, her breath rattling.

“Humor me. You seem like the self-righteous type and I am granting you the opportunity to teach me something new.”

She stumbles momentarily and then rights herself. “What do you want to know?”

He is quiet for a moment. “Did you have friends? Anyone to speak with after your family was gone?”

She is so weary that she nods, forgetting that he cannot see. “Yes. He is called Hector.”

“Just the one?”

“I had friends as a child, but friends are hard to keep on the Ledge.”

He nods. “So, this Hector, he is alive?”

“Last I saw.”

“Tell me about him.”