Snow Like Ashes(27)

I yank my hand out of my pocket. I don’t need made-up strength. I’m strong enough on my own—me, Meira, no magic or conduit or anything.

But … it would be nice. For once, to not be so weak. To not look at all we’ve done and know we still have so very far to go before we can be safe.

To be powerful.

We stop to make camp when the sun sets. By that point, the heat together with my lingering self-doubts about Sir loving me have turned me into a twitchy ball of anxiety. So when he takes the first watch, I force sleep to cleanse my thoughts. Shockingly it comes easier and more quickly than any sleep I’ve had in a long time, as if the way Sir talked to me today caused some small amount of stress to lift.

I hate how important his opinion is to me.

I close my eyes, curl into a ball in the golden waves of grass, and slide into dreams like the stars sliding across the black night sky.

Cottages encircle me on a cobblestone road, fences dusted with snow and ice, windows warped with frost. A thick cloud of smoke blankets the sky, chugging from the chimneys of the industrial buildings on the edge of the city.

I’m in Jannuari.

I know these streets like I know the beat of my own heart. Scenes I built out of stories and other people’s memories, stolen images and emotions. But fear paralyzes me where I stand on the cold stone road. I’ve seen Jannuari in my dreams for years, listened with rapt attention to stories about it. So why am I terrified?

A wave of bodies rushes into me, surging down Jannuari’s twisting streets. We’re running, desperately running, as explosions ricochet around us.

This is the night of Winter’s fall.

“No,” I breathe. We can’t run. Angra’s herding us. He’ll take us all away, imprison us—

“NO!” I scream it over and over, clawing at the people around me. But they don’t budge, don’t hear me, terror locking them behind impenetrable walls of need.

Then I’m safe.

It happens so fast—the change—that I fall back and smack into the wall of the room I’m in now. A small, cozy study, lit by a warm fire pit on the left. The earthy musk of burning coal instantly relaxes me, the smell of memories that aren’t mine. The window across from me is open to the night, letting in the occasional flake from Winter’s never-ending snowfall.

The people in the room don’t notice me. They’re too focused on a woman standing by the door, a woman who can’t be older than thirty, with flowing waves of white hair and the softest, calmest face I’ve ever seen. Like nothing, not even Angra’s cannons, can shake her.

There’s a locket around her neck. The conduit.

Hannah.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, tears spilling over her cheeks. “I can’t tell you—”

“No!” Sir flies up. Sir. And Alysson’s next to him, and Dendera behind him, and Gregg and Crystalla. Alive. They’re all here, alive—

A scream starts to rip from my throat before a hand clasps firmly over my mouth. In the dimness Sir glares at me, his own mouth pressed into a grimace behind his stubble of white facial hair. The dream leaves fogginess in its wake, and I blink in confusion, my pulse settling back to a normal beat. I’ve dreamed about Jannuari before. I’ve even dreamed about Hannah before. Everyone has, I’m sure—Winter dominates every moment of our waking lives, so why not our dreams too? This is nothing to be concerned about.

But I can’t get the uneasy feeling to leave me, especially when Sir nods to my right, drawing my attention to hoofbeats.

Horses thunder across the plains, sending vibrations running up my palms as I lay flat on the ground. Sir lowers his hand from my mouth when realization shudders through me.

Spring? I mouth.

He shakes his head. “Coming from the southwest,” he whispers. “Going northeast.”

I squint. Clearly Sir expects me to know who the galloping army is, but I’m at a loss. The kingdoms southwest of us are Summer and Autumn. Summerians only leave their kingdom to send collectors to fill their brothels, but rarely do they extend so far beyond their corner of the world, especially when Yakim and Ventralli are much closer and just as full of potential slaves. Autumn has its own collapsing-kingdom problems; they had been without a female heir for two generations before their current king bore a daughter, but she’s only one. Due to the nature of conduit magic, bearers aren’t able to fully use it until they are at least teenagers. They need to be able to consciously push magic here and there, and children aren’t able to harness the amount of magic within a Royal Conduit, or control what they’re able to summon.

But Autumn does have one powerful ally—King Noam of Cordell’s sister married the king of Autumn two years ago. It was her marriage to the Autumn king that bore his female-blooded kingdom a daughter in the face of Angra’s attacks—once Winter was assimilated into Spring, Spring turned its greed to the weakened, heirless Autumn. Their attacks increased after the birth of Autumn’s princess in an effort to conquer them before she grows into her power. And with Noam linked through blood and marriage to Autumn, one of the most powerful Rhythms was forced to care about a Season for reasons other than its proximity to the Klaryns.