Page 21 of The Frost Witch (The Covenants of Velora #1)

More than half of the day had already elapsed by the time I exited the frozen meadow and started northeast. The gates distorted time.

Another new fact that the rumors had always missed.

If we’d set out early enough, we might have made it to the temple at the Justice Gate by nightfall.

As it was, we were all stuck spending the night in the dark, frozen wood.

Maybe the cold night would do me a favor and pick off another one of the supplicants. Rilk had been in bad shape before the Mercy Gate. If I was suffering, so was he, and I had a lot more meat on my body to keep me warm.

Even though I’d been the first to start out, I let all the other supplicants pass me early on, Nimra included. She gave me a wide berth and avoided meeting my eyes. I’d revealed my power. That was enough for even the friendliest of the others to keep their distance.

More than fine with me. I would rather keep them in my sights than risk someone coming from behind and stabbing a knife into my back. Even if it meant I was the last one to arrive at the temple.

Garrick surprised me when he passed me by, just like the others. He disappeared into the woods ahead of me, seemingly unbothered by the exertion of the Mercy Gate. Bastard. Maybe my power had been enough to unnerve him, too, despite his dramatic threats.

I pretended that the bruises he’d left on my arm didn’t bring me right back—not to the Mercy Gate, but to the moment he’d dragged me up close enough to share breath.

I also spent most of the afternoon ignoring the heat that had coiled low in my belly in that moment, with his mouth only inches from mine.

But as I settled myself into the hollow created by a tangle of tree roots, I let the memory come back.

The barest stubble kissed his chin, so pale that it could have been a dusting of my frost. What would it feel like against my skin? Would it be warm like the heat that spread from his hand through my arm, or cool from the frigid air around us?

The Mercy Gate had claimed my cloak. The cold would keep me from sleeping well, and I’d need all of my strength to face the next gate.

Bathing in the memory of Garrick’s breath skittering across my cheeks and into the sensitive space where my ears met my neck was an act of self-preservation. It would keep me warm.

Maybe I should have let Garrick protect me. That was no doubt what he wanted—to keep me alive, now that his life depended upon mine. A Lifebind. In four hundred years, I’d never met someone who’d received one. They were as much a thing of legend as the gates themselves.

But the legends of Velora were becoming more real with every passing breath.

It was not Garrick’s protection that flooded my mind as I settled deeper into the hollow. I imagined the hard curves of wood were the rigid lines of his body, wrapping around me. Not just protection, but warmth. Safety. Things that had eluded me for a very long time.

Things that I certainly would never receive from Garrick the Red, or anyone else. But in my mind, I could live out whatever fantasy I wanted. Especially if that fantasy would keep me warm in the cold, dark night.

Overhead, a crow cawed, its cry echoing among the trees. But I kept my eyes closed, determined to stay in the fantasy my mind was busy constructing.

I remembered to throw out my hand, sending a ring of icy spikes around me to deter any intruders. I mumbled a spell just before I lost the battle against my own exhaustion and impossible fantasies.