Page 15

“I’m fine.”

“Then say that I could use a rest. That was terrifying.”

“Oh.” Alexander stopped with his head hanging down.

Gytha slid down from his back. White fur strands stuck to her sweaty palms and between her fingers.

“You should eat again,” Alexander said.

“I ate everything but the acorn flour, and that must be cooked.”

“Oh.” The bear swayed as if trying to hold his feet in a strong wind, but the air was still.

“Aren’t you hungry?” Gytha said gently.

“I don’t know.”

Gytha rested her head against his shoulder and felt his exhaustion like a great abyss that would swallow them both whole.

Finally he said, his voice low and almost ashamed, “If you can withstand your hunger a little longer, I do not think I can face her tonight.”

“Face who?”

The growl that answered was nearly inaudible, for all its restrained fury. His throat worked, but he did not answer her. Finally he managed, “The queen.”

“The queen?”

He shuddered and nearly lost his footing.

Hunger curled in her belly, familiar and regrettable, but not intolerable. She was more tired than she could ever remember, and her legs trembled like those of a newborn lamb. “I am as tired as I am hungry. If you will keep me warm, I think a nap would do us both good.”

Feeling bold and yet entirely safe, she curled up between his front legs, with her back against his chest. Carefully he lowered his head so his neck was a warm weight over her body.

“I am sorry.” His low voice rumbled through her body. “I had hoped to carry you there safely before you had to suffertoo much from hunger. Even if it is a prison for me, you will be safe there.”

“A prison?” She twisted, trying to see his face, as if he were a person and she could read his expressions.

His throat worked and he grumbled something inarticulate. At last he managed, “I…I cannot say more.”

When she said nothing else, he sighed heavily and relaxed. The weight of his head dropped, and she realized he had fallen into an exhausted sleep within seconds.

Despite her own fatigue, she lay awake for some time. Beneath her, the ice was frigid, and she shifted several times so that different parts of her rested against that life-stealing cold. Alexander might have been dead for how much he noticed her wiggling; his warm, solid weight was the most welcome shield against the cold and any other danger.

When she did drift into sleep, she dreamed strange, unsettling things. Fingers made of glittering ice snatched at her arms. Something howled behind her, and when she whirled in terror, a shriek came from another direction. Knives of ice spun in the air like snowflakes in a blizzard. A castle of ice loomed over her, and a voice hissed, “Foolish child!”

Gytha jerked awake with a gasp, and Alexander rumbled a soft question.

“I had a bad dream. I’m sorry.” Gytha buried her face in his fur and tried to steady her breathing. He lay his great head over her back, and she whispered her thanks into his neck.

Her stomach growled.

“It is not far now.” Alexander sighed, his head still low. “I am bound to silence in the palace. Remember the rules.”

“Do not look. Do not touch. Do not be afraid.” Gytha nodded, as if she were not terrified. “Do not expect you to answer.”

The bear nodded. Then, slowly, he stood, not quite stifling a groan.

“Are you sore too?” Gytha smiled up at him. His face was quite handsome, now that she thought of him as a friend. His dark eyes were soft and limpid, with the light of intelligence in them. Even the livid red gash down his muzzle seemed only to remind her of his gentle nature.