30. Sapphire

Sapphire

The cold bites harder the longer we run, each breath searing my lungs.

Exhaustion settles into me as I use more and more of my magic to keep up our pace. I’m not sure how long I can keep going like this.

Eventually, our sprint slows.

Zoey lets out a low, gasping breath, clutching her side as she leans against a tree. “I just… need a second,” she says, and I nod, taking the opportunity to glance around the forest.

It’s well past sunset now, and animals scurry through the trees, the branches seeming ready to grab us and attack.

Hoping we’re safe from nightmarish screaming women now, I remove the water from my and Zoey’s ears. The pop as the water seeps out is extremely satisfying, and Zoey shakes her head, smiling with relief as the last drops of it run out of her ears.

“We can’t outrun them forever. We need to get to the silver tree.” She looks around, as if it might appear out of nowhere.

Of course, it doesn’t.

“I’m going to go to the top of that tree,” I say, pointing to the tallest one I can find. “Hopefully I’ll be able to see the silver tree from there.”

“Okay.” A flicker of a hesitation crosses Zoey’s eyes, but it’s gone in an instant. “I’ll watch your body.”

My body.

I shudder, not thinking I’ll ever like the sound of that.

“I’ll be back in a second,” I tell her. “I promise.”

She nods, and then I zero in on the tree, appearing at the top of it in seconds.

The world is different from up here. The forest stretches like a sea of jagged shadows, glistening with frost under the pale moonlight.

One tree glistens more than the others. With leaves—not with ice.

The silver tree.

And, according to the location of the North Star, the tree is a straight shot southeast from here.

But just as I’m about to rush back to my body, movement catches in the corner of my eye .

Riven and his knights, far out in the distance. They’re near the place where the screaming woman attacked.

They must have tracked us there.

How long will it be until they’re able to track us here? Or until they simply give up on trying to hunt us down like prey and go to the tree, so they can attack us when we arrive?

A scream pierces through my thoughts.

Zoey.

I snap back into my body and see a little, ice dragon creature—about the size of a large bird—zooming at my head, its claws curled and poised to dig into my eyes.

I roll out of its way a second before it has a chance to blind me.

It crashes into the ground instead.

Grabbing my dagger in a flash, I reach over and stab the blade through the creature’s heart.

It screeches, collapses, and melts, disappearing into the snow. But before I can catch my breath, another ice dragon swoops down from the trees, as if it was already poised to strike.

Zoey scrambles back, grabs one of the rocks in her pocket, and hurls it at the creature. The rock hits its mark, and the little dragon crashes into a tree and shatters, the pieces falling to the ground.

She grins at her success .

I push myself up, and a series of sharp, high-pitched screeches sounds from above.

More of them.

An entire flock of them, their crystal eyes gleaming with predatory focus, zeroed in on us.

“Behind you!” I shout, and Zoey spins, ducking as another ice dragon swoops past her, narrowly missing her head.

She counters with a swift throw of another rock, which grazes the dragon’s wing and sends it into an awkward spin.

It screeches and tries to regain balance. But I lunge forward, sending a whip of water toward it from some snow I’d gathered in my hand.

The water yanks it out of the air and slams it to the ground, shattering it on impact.

Together, we continue fighting like that against the dragons. Zoey with her rocks, and me with my magic.

We’re almost done. Just a few more to go.

I’m finishing off a particularly feisty one when Zoey screams. A piercing, pained scream that’s definitely not one of victory.

She’s clutching her arm, blood seeping through her fingers.

The final, biggest ice dragon is hovering just out of her reach, its claws dripping dark red, a victorious gleam in its frozen eyes as it prepares for another attack .

“No!” I raise my dagger, and the world narrows to the weapon in my hand, the cruel gleam in the ice dragon’s eyes, and Zoey’s gasping breaths, sharp with pain as she clutches her injured arm.

Without a second to spare, I hurl the blade, a flash of silver slicing through the air with an amount of precision I didn’t know I had in me.

It strikes the dragon square in the center of its icy chest, and the dragon falls to the ground, shattering on impact.

Zoey’s wide eyes flick from the remains, to me, then back again. “Nice shot,” she says as she cradles her injured arm, her teeth gritted against the pain.

I rush to her to check on her injuries.

“Let me see,” I say, prying her hand away from the wound.

Blood pulses slowly from a deep gash, the dark red stark against her pale skin.

My stomach twists at the sight, growling, taking this out of all moments to remind me that I’m getting hungry again.

“It’s not great,” she says, wincing as she tries to adjust her arm.

“Maybe there’s something I can do.” I hold my hand over the wound and glance down at the snow. “I wonder if I can put snow onto your arm and use it to somehow heal the cut?” I ask. “Freeze it, sort of like the opposite of what people do when they cauterize a wound?”

“This isn’t like using magic on a pair of boots,” she snaps. “It’s my arm. If you mess up and freeze my blood, I could die.”

Whatever I was about to say dies in my throat.

“Sorry,” I say instead. “I didn’t mean… well, I was just trying to help.”

“We need to slow the bleeding,” she says, sounding calmer now, already moved on to her next thought. “Use your shirt. Tear off a strip of it and make a tourniquet.”

“Sure. Okay.”

My hands tremble as I grab the bottom of my shirt and tear off a strip of fabric. The cold stings against my exposed skin, but it’s nothing compared to the sight of Zoey’s blood soaking through her ripped sleeve. It’s getting all over my hands, and it smells just like the perfume she always wears. Spicy, with a hint of chocolate.

“Wrap it above the wound,” she instructs. “Pull it tight.”

I loop the fabric around her arm just above the gash and twist it hard.

She sucks in a sharp breath, eyes squeezing shut as her knuckles whiten. “Good, just like that,” she says, more to herself than to me, continuing to give instructions about what to do .

I follow as best as I can, focusing on the practical—the tangible—instead of on the panic racing through my mind and the hunger rolling through my stomach.

“How do you know how to do this?” I ask her.

“I watched a lot of medical dramas when I was younger,” she says. “You’re doing great. Almost done.”

“It’s holding,” I say, exhaling as the blood slows beneath the makeshift bandage.

“Nice work, field medic.” Zoey tries for a grin, but winces instead.

I offer a shaky smile in return, the tension in my chest refusing to ease. “I might be the medic, but you’re clearly the doctor,” I say, which is enough to earn a chuckle from her.

My eyes drop to her arm again, reassessing. It’s stable, but not for long. Eventually the fabric will soak through.

She looks me over as well.

“You didn’t get hit once, did you?” she asks.

“I did.” I touch where claws and crystal beaks grazed me, but of course, there’s nothing. Only smooth skin beneath ripped fabric. “It just already healed.”

Zoey’s jaw tenses, and she stares at my unscathed skin as I wipe her blood off my hands, deep in thought. “That was fast,” she says, and then she snaps back to it, as if nothing even happened. “Now, let’s get to that tree before I start bleeding too badly again. Were you able to see it from above?”

“I did.” I squeeze her uninjured shoulder lightly. “We’re close.”

“Good,” she says, and she pushes herself up with her good arm to stand, brushing off my help as she does. “Lead the way.”

I do another sweep of the area, relieved when nothing else attacks, then use the stars as guides to point us southeast toward the tree.

Zoey leans on me more and more as we walk, her steps slower, heavier. Each labored breath of hers cuts through me, a reminder that every second counts.

“You good?” I ask, glancing sideways at her.

She musters a thin smile. “Been better,” she says, trying for lightness, but sounding winded instead. “Keep going.”

My stomach continues to growl every so often as we trudge on, but much to my relief, there are no more screaming women or violent ice dragons. Just me, Zoey, and the cold, making our way toward the silver tree at a much slower pace than I’d like.

But as we walk, I remain alert, gazing around in preparation for attackers.

Where are Riven and his knights now?

Surely, they’re closing in on us. I think Zoey knows it, too, even though she’s not saying anything .

All we can do is our best and pray that it’s enough. And Zoey’s too vulnerable now for me to risk leaving my body for another treetop scouting mission. So, we’re going to have to let the stars guide our way.

Zoey’s uncomfortably not chatty as we continue, and eventually, my hand drifts to the whisper stone in my pocket.

Sapphire. Riven’s voice echoes in my mind, low and urgent. Are you there?