Chapter 42. The Icy Heart
That same tremor, faint and bothersome, like a mosquito's squeak, did not go away. It vibrated somewhere in the back of my mind, interfering with my concentration. I tried to drive him into the darkest corner of my mind, plug him with ice and steel, but he kept coming back. It was like someone was calling my name softly from the other end of an endless tunnel.
Weakness, my inner voice hissed, the one that had allowed me to survive. A distraction. They'll break you if you let it be.
I poked my finger hard into my temple, as if I could physically dig out that feeling. No. I couldn't afford to be weak. Not now. Not when Yuki is out here, alone and scared, relying only on me.
The door to the training room opened, letting Quinn in. She didn't come in the way she usually did, not defiantly or curiously. Her footsteps were quieter, her gaze more intense, as if she was trying to see the cracks on me.
"You're quiet today," she said, stopping at a safe distance. Her scarlet eyes scanned me, searching for every detail, every change.
"Thinking loudly is a luxury that not everyone can afford,— I retorted, not moving from my seat. My voice sounded flat, impersonal. The perfect mask.
She didn't back down. "Is it because of yesterday?" Because of the girl? Her father says she's safe. She's being treated well.
Something jumped deep inside, a hot, poisonous needle of anxiety. I suppressed it. He suppressed it so hard that his fingers went numb for a moment. — Safety is a relative concept. As well as "okay," I said, finally turning my head to her. "But that shouldn't bother you. Your lesson. Your concentration. Everything else is noise.
I saw her swallow. My coldness had a different effect on her than Ragnar's rage. She wasn't scary, she was annoying. It was confusing. And that's exactly what I needed to achieve.
She nodded, accepting the challenge. "Then teach me." Show me how to turn off not only the aura, but also... everything else.
I was ruthless the whole lesson. He forced her to meditate in uncomfortable positions, concentrate on many objects at the same time, ignoring any external stimuli. I was the perfect, soulless instructor. A skill transfer machine.
Meanwhile, he absorbed everything. The number of guards at the east wing (two, changing every four hours). The schedule of the courtyard rounds (every hour, starting from the north tower). The location of the observation posts on the walls (two blind spots near the old forge).
The escape plan was overgrown with details. I needed access to the kitchen to steal provisions. He had to find a way to get into Yuki's chambers to warn her. And it was necessary to divert attention. A serious distraction.
And then it interrupted my thoughts again... feeling. That same thrill. Stronger this time. Clearer. A note slipped through it... something warm. An acquaintance. Like an echo of a long-forgotten dream.
I jerked, and my hand shook involuntarily, knocking Quinn out of concentration. She opened her eyes, surprised.
"Is something wrong?" There was genuine curiosity in her voice.
—Nothing,— I abruptly straightened up, taking a step back. Everything froze inside. They feel it. They feel a connection. But who are they? And how? — The lesson is over. You're tired.
She looked at me suspiciously, but she didn't argue. She got up, still studying me with her eyes, and left without a word.
I was left alone in the hall. The thrill didn't go away. He was now a constant, boring background. A reminder. A threat.
Whoever was on the other end of that connection became active. They were looking. And if they were looking, then they could have found it. Find me here. In the enemy's lair.
It changed everything. The escape had to be tripled.
I walked over to the narrow slit window, peering out into the twilight courtyard. I needed more than just a plan. I needed chaos. Such that the Crimson Ones would forget about everything in the world. And I had an idea.
An idea that was born out of Ragnar's hatred and the secret he guarded so fiercely.
I turned and headed for the door. I needed to find something. A purse or a trinket that could be dropped off unnoticed. Something that would belong to the soldiers from the eastern outpost, the ones Ragnar hated the most for some old grudge.
A small spark. Which could have started a fire.
In the meantime, let them feel their connection. Let them go north.
They'll only find ashes here.