An ear-shattering sound rings out, filling the air. It reminds me of when the plane appeared, but this is more constant, a continuous crackling. And it's coming from the lake.
We wheel around, charging back to the shore we just left behind.
Before we've even come through the trees, we see the ice forming on the lake.
It originates from the center, a patch of white spreading over blue water. The sky's reflection vanishes from the lake's surface. Replaced by frosted white.
It happens fast.
By the time we barrel up to the lakeshore, the water lapping against the gravel has frozen solid.
That's when I realize Riot's moving too fast.
I jam my heels down and throw my shoulders back, wrenching on the reins like I never do. "Riot!"
But he's a hundred times stronger than I am. The reins strip the skin of my right palm. He doesn't slow down. The lake's suddenly right in front of us-and we go airborne.
We clear fifteen feet before his hooves smack down.
For an instant.
He slips, lurches. Staggers right, then jerks back.
I launch from the saddle, flying over his ears. I hit the ice-elbows, chin, chest. Teeth slamming. Then I go sprawling on my stomach, frost kicking into my face.
I've barely come to a stop when I feel Riot's fall-a tremor on the ice. Hear the crunching sound behind me and his deep grunt.
I shoot to my feet, boots slipping, and I touch my chin. Bleeding, and pretty well. I've left a red strip on the ice.
I turn to look for my horse.
For a second, as Riot and I try to stay standing, it's almost funny. Like we're in some epic tap-dance battle. Then we stabilize, kind of, and every detail registers.
The powerful muscles in Riot's legs and chest tremble like he's being electrocuted. Big fogging breaths push from his nostrils. Dragon breaths. His amber eyes are huge and I can see white all around them.
I hear a sizzling sound. The dusting of frost on his red coat melts in a second. It rises into the air as steam and drips off of him as water. A few flames struggle through on his knees. Then I see his hooves, deep red with heat.
They sink like he's on quicksand, melting into the ice.
If he goes through the ice, he'll drown. He'll never get back through the crust. I'll lose him. And I'll lose me too, because I'll go in after him.
Riot lifts his head and makes a low sound, his rear hooves sliding.
Gideon, help. What do I do?
"Okay, Big Red. Steady." We're twenty feet away from solid ground. But since one step seems impossible, the distance might as well be a mile.
I step toward him. White spiderwebs crackle away from my boots, and I freeze. Riot's weight is immense. His fall has created big fracture lines across the ice. White veins directly in our path to each other-and to safety. Every move I make will stress the ice.
"Don't move!" Jode yells from shore. "Don't move or you'll fall through!"
"Thank you, Jode! I got that! Any ideas?"
"Riot, here! To me!" he yells.
Nothing happens. Riot doesn't budge. He doesn't even look Jode's way.
"Other ideas, Jode?"
"Not yet." Ruin's rattled by Riot's predicament, pulling at the lead tied to Jode's saddle. Jode hops off and sets her loose. Marcus's bronze mare immediately tears up and down the gravelly shore. Everyone recognizes the suck of this situation. And every second, it's getting worse.
"Gideon." Jode's expression goes hard with fear as he looks past me. "Look."
I follow his line of sight and finally understand why Riot ran out here.
Shadow stands in the middle of the lake. Tall and still. Stark against the ice. She's watching us. Waiting.
Seeing that she's won our attention, she turns and walks away on her long, careful legs.
Away.
To the opposite side of the lake.
When I look toward where she's going, time stops.
Someone's there. Too far away for me to see clearly. But he's tall and still. Lanky, like his horse.
"Gideon, do you see that? Is that him?" Jode waves his arms. "Sebastian! Bas!"
I can't tell if Bas reacts. If he does, it's not obvious. He doesn't shout back or wave his arms. But I'm sure it's him.
And he's not alone.
A figure stands beside him. Samrael. I'm sure of that, too.
Every cell in me, every fiber, feels like it's incinerating.
Riot blows a hard exhale, pulling me back to the immediate problem.
"Come on, Riot. Come on." I take a step toward shore. Then another.
Riot takes a tentative step after me.
We go five steps before it happens. A huge chunk of ice breaks off, right where he'd just stood. Water splashes up, spraying Riot, and he scrambles back instinctively, startled. He gets going too fast, and that starts another slip-and-slide situation. He's going the wrong way, too. Away from shore.