Ice Country(46)

“Wait, nay, I’m sorry, that was just what Roan told us.”

Silence. Her eyes blink. Once. Twice. Three times. I feel the blush I never knew I had coming back. Something about being under this woman’s scrutiny is like having my stones clamped in a vice.

(In a good way?)

“You know Roan?” she asks. There’s something hard in her voice.

“Not really. I met him once at the border. As part of my job. He told us a lot of things, but maybe it wasn’t all true. Do you know him?”

“Roan’s my father,” she says, pulling away from the hole.





~~~





I try for a few hours after that, trying to get her attention, to get her to come back to the hole, to talk to me, but she’s not having any of it.

Buff interjects every once in a while, but mostly he’s tossing jokes around, like the hits he took to the head have made him a little loopy.

Eventually, I get tired of speaking through the hole, so I shove the brick in, but only halfway, so I can pull it out again if I have to. I slump against the wall, force my eyes closed, try to sleep. I say one last thing before I drift off. “What’s your name?”

“Buff,” Buff says.

“Skye,” the Wilde woman says, and then she’s silent for good.

I sleep.





~~~





I’m awakened when the heavy dungeon door crashes open. For a moment I’m disoriented, scrabbling at the walls and reaching into the empty space in front of me, but then I remember where I am. In my cell, slumped against the wall, sleeping sitting up.

Big’s voice is a deep rumble of thunder. “No funny…” Well, you know the rest.

Feet scuffle on the floor. More prisoners. I wonder if this is a busy day in the dungeons or if every day is like this, prisoners in, prisoners out. Do prisoners ever go out? Or is the sentence the same regardless of the crime: life in the dungeons. I wonder if they’ll even feed us, or if we just wither away until we can’t wither no more—and then we die.

The feet trod along, at least three sets, maybe four, in addition to Big’s crashing footsteps, and I find myself shrinking into the shadows, like Skye—that’s her name, isn’t it? Or did I dream it?—musta done when we passed by her cell.

“What the scorch happened?” Skye says, her voice firm and echoing.

“Shut yer Heater pie hole!” Big roars.

“I ain’t a Heater, you great big tub o’ tug lard!” Skye retorts. I grin in the dark. She don’t take nothing from nobody, and I’ve got the black eye to prove it.

“It’s alright, Skye,” another female voice says, its tone the exact opposite of Skye’s husky timbre. Hers floats like a simple melody from a flute, calming everything and everyone that hears it.

Skye stays quiet.

Four people pass by my cell, their skin orangey-brown under the torchlight. They’re wearing light-brown skins, exactly like Skye was wearing when I first met her. They look in at me but their eyes don’t register any sort of recognition, because they can’t see me in the shadows. A few hours ago I’d have said they were Heaters, but now I have no clue, because no one except the men at the border seems to be Heaters.

Two are guys, two girls. I only get the barest glimpse, but one’s got shortish black hair, longer than Skye’s but only by a few months’ growing, and could almost be her sister, if she wasn’t so much skinnier. Still muscular, but with bones no bigger than the splinters I occasionally pull out of my feet. Next to her is a guy, lean, muscular, with a look of strength about him. Behind them is another woman, with long, black hair and a regal walk to her, almost like she’s dancing. She looks strong as chill, too, but in a way that’s more graceful than Skye. And bringing up the rear is the Marked man, every bit as full of muscle and hard edges as Buff described, covered with dark markings that shine a bit in the light, which, when combined with his dark eyes, give him an intimidating look.

Only I’m not intimidated. Not by him. Not by his posse.

The only one who might intimidate me is Skye, but I’m not admitting that just yet.

Then they’re gone and I crawl back outta the shadows. Clinks and clanks and four more prisoners are locked in.

I return to the brick, waiting until Big passes and slams the door before pulling it out. “Skye,” I hiss.

“Whaddya want, Icer?” And then her eyes are there and I’m blushing and my heart’s beating just a little bit faster.

“Why weren’t you with your friends?” I ask.

“Who’re you talking to, sis?” a voice says from nearby. Sis. Must be the thin, splinter-boned one.

“Just that searin’ Icy that tried to git us in the trees,” she calls.