Chapter Thirteen

Esmae clutched the parchment in her hand, trying to unwind the path she'd taken as quickly as she could.

"Where are you going?"

Esmae started, but it wasn't Silas who asked the question. Dirt peeked out from a hole in the cavern, his long nose twitching as he sniffed in her direction.

"I need to get out of here. I'm trying to follow this map, but it's slow."

Dirt frowned. "You want to leave?"

"I…" She swallowed. "I have to."

It had happened while she'd laid cradled in Silas's arms. The ice hit her heart again, this time for longer than ever before. She'd thought she might never take another breath. When the warmth of Silas's embrace eventually melted it, she realized what she had to do.

There was no way she could fight this curse. The only cure was worse than the poison, so she would have to let herself succumb to the magic.

And she refused to die in front of Silas.

Gods, leaving hurt. But it was the right thing to do. He had a mate. He would move on, however sincere his words. He'd think she chose to leave and was living a life of adventure somewhere while he eventually grew old with whatever vampiress and forgot about her. Which was good, even as it was hard to breathe. It had to be good.

"You want to leave me?" Dirt's voice wobbled.

She tried to force a smile in the direction of the mole, but it was more of a grimace. "I don't want to, sweetie. But I need to go."

She forced herself onward. Silas had told her vampires like him rarely slept more than a few hours at a time. This might be her only chance before it was too late.

The soft tap, tap of Dirt's paws on the ground followed her. She slowed long enough to scoop him in her arms .

"If you really want to leave, I can show you a faster way," Dirt said. He didn't sound happy about the proposition.

"You know one?"

He nestled into the crook of her arm. "No one knows this mountain better than me. Go left."

She obeyed, trusting her little friend. She moved to the opposite fork she'd planned and obeyed the little mole's directions. He led her through tiny narrow caverns, crawl spaces that were borderline too small for her at times. No wonder Silas hadn't included them on his map. He likely had no idea they existed. True to Dirt's word, she was back on top of the Condemned Cliffs within a couple of hours. The late afternoon sun was high in the sky, its rays coating her skin for the first time in days. She drank it up, while Dirt, a creature accustomed to the darkest of darks, moved back into the cave. He didn't disappear, though, instead lingering at the edges.

She started to say her goodbyes to her brave companion when the ice seized her again. It had never come so quickly, one after the other. She collapsed to the ground, clutching her chest. Dirt squeaked, his horror clear .

"Esmae?" he chirped. "Esmae!"

After what felt like an age, she dragged herself to her knees, cupping the mole in her hands to shelter him from the sunlight. "Hush, now. I'm okay."

"You're not! What's wrong?"

She debated. She didn't want to burden anyone else, but it wouldn't be right to lie. Not when he'd seen her like this. "I was cursed. As her heart is like ice, let it be so. Let it devour, " she intoned.

Jared was extremely dramatic about his curses. And literal.

"What does that mean?"

"It means sometimes when you refuse to sleep with a man again, he thinks you're a cold-hearted bitch and should die," she hissed. Dirt shrank away, and she felt bad for scaring him. Dammit, she was trying to accept her fate. But to let it be defined by Jared? He was no oracle. What right did he have? "There's nothing to be done, dear one."

"Can't the vampire save you? He's so powerful."

He could. But it would cost him his life. "Even a vampire cannot defeat a curse through brute force."

"But—"

"No more, Dirt. I'm glad I met you. You were a good friend to me."

"And you, me," he squeaked.

Even the tears in her eyes were ice cold. She lifted from her knees to resume her journey. Her movements were sluggish. The blood in her veins was freezing. She was nearly out of time.

Why had it come to this? Her breath was frosty in front of her. She clutched Silas's discarded cloak that she'd swiped from the glowing cavern before leaving. There would be no escaping the chill now.

It smelled like him. Like smoke and cinders and a male who made her feel as if she was her own person, destined for more than mediocre weaving.

A person everyone in the village had dismissed.

She wiped away the tears that threatened to fall. No. She wouldn't break down. Not in her last moments. She had to get away from the Condemned Cliffs where Silas might find her. She'd initially planned to roam as far into the forest as she could, but with every step, her emotions turned more volatile.

Sadness, yes. Grief. Resignation of a kind. But in their embers was something more, a burning anger that grew and grew. Her heart might be ice to Jared, but who was he to define her? Because she didn't want him—and they both knew he never really wanted her, because he didn't even know her and scoffed at the parts he'd seen—she was cold-hearted?

But the emotion that ruled above all: love.

Against her best efforts, she had fallen in love with Silas. And it was because of that love she had to get as far away as possible. He never left the cliffs, or at least, he hadn't in several hundred years by his own admission. Aside from when he'd gone to the nearby forest to forage for food on her behalf.

The memory of him that first day, presenting the bounty of food, tugged at her heart. A tear beaded at the corner of her eye, then fell, frozen to the ground. He'd been so proud of his haul, so desperate to please her. She could see that now. He liked taking care of her.

How would he feel if she had gone to him, and he'd realized there was nothing he could do?

Would he feel as she did now, angry and helpless?

Or would it be worse, because it was one thing to fail yourself, and another to fail someone you cared about?

Another frozen tear fell.

She pushed on.

She veered closer to the village. The surroundings had grown more familiar. This wasn't just any path, it was the one that led to the mayor's house. Her stomach twisted. Given more time, she'd double back around just to avoid it.

But then—

"Esmae? It can't be."

She spun on her heel.

There he was. The source of all her misery. The mayor's son, a curse-caster who couldn't take no for an answer. Jared wore fine hunting garb with polished brass buttons. An empty quiver at his back, a bow in his hand. His uncalloused hands were clenched into fists at the sight of her .

Surprise. That's what it was: he was surprised to see her. And why shouldn't he be? For all he'd known, he'd cursed her, and she'd been a good little witch and wandered off to the woods to die. In his mind, his curse was unbeatable. How could a weak witch like Esmae fight such a thing?

But she had. She'd dared to hunt the beast that haunted the Condemned Cliffs. She'd stared straight into the red eyes of a predator without flinching. Yet he'd been content to think she'd left with her tail tucked between her legs? Because she'd accepted any scrap of affection for so long, had rolled over every time someone stronger bid her to be one way. Accept your place as a weaver. Accept your place as Jared's pretty audience.

He assumed she would do him the courtesy of quietly dying away from home, freeing him of any guilt.

"Jared." It came out as a hiss. She stumbled forward, her steps uneven with the blood in her veins freezing.

His surprise was covered by a smirk so wide his cheeks nearly disappeared entirely.

"Aww, Esmae. I'm touched. You wanted to spend your last moments with me? Finally realized what a big mistake you made?"

She balled her own fists. No. The only thing worse than dying alone would be doing so with Jared leering at her.

He strode towards her. "Or did you come to beg me to lift the curse and take you back?" He chuckled. "You're too late."