Page 138 of Starside

I’m sure he’s not fucking happy about it.

I can’t imagine it’s been comfortable not being able to move at all in the—I look up at the faint light filtering through the treetops—hours that I was asleep.

“I’m—I’m sorry,” I say, trying in vain to scoot away, straightening so at least I’m not plastered against him.

“You’re too thin” is all he says, bitten out like an insult.

I bristle. “Most of us don’t exactly get enough to eat, unlike the king’s guard.”

He says nothing.

I sit like that, firmly upright, muscles tired, until the horse begins to slow, and the world falls into focus again.

We’re finally out of the woods.

Light rain hits us all at once. The sky is gray, sun almost wholly blotted out. A storm is coming. A bad one.

The horse kicks down the side of a small rockface, and below sits a circle of water dark as night. At the center of it is a small piece of land. And at the center of that is a castle.

It’s small. Abandoned. Part of it is just a pile of ruins.

But some of it is still standing. The idea of shelter, after days spent in the mists and forest, makes my posture finally fall forward with relief.

That’s exactly where the horse takes us, riding the storm winds, galloping atop the water as if she is gliding on it.

She stops right in front of a half-crumbled door.

Cold bites my cheeks. I start to wonder how we’re going to make it back across the water, but I quickly spot a small beached boat. Across the lake is another one. As if someone paddled out and left the house behind.

Why?

The horse begins to lose some of its form. I start to scramble off, swinging my leg over, sliding—only for hands to grip my waist. Help me down. Immediately retreat. I turn toward Raker, but he’s already unsheathing his blade and stepping inside the ruins.

The horse huffs above me. She’s rapidly deteriorating. Some of the rain is going right through her now.

“Thank you,” I say, handing her the last apple. She takes it—but doesn’t bite. As if she’s saving it. Then she takes back off across the black water, until she’s just another wisp of storm wind.

I wait for Raker outside in the freezing torrent, thinking he’s gone to check if it’s safe … but he doesn’t return. When I see a faint curl of smoke coming from one of the few remaining chimneys, I walk through the door.

This must have been a beautiful place, once. Now it’s hardly standing. Most of the ceiling is gone. Rain falls through large holes that look almost shredded by massive talons. Nature grows up the walls, and across the floor. Deeper into the home, the damage is worse. Some rooms are just piles of collapsed stone. Others look like everything inside has been sucked out. But I follow the warmth, toward one room that is almost fully intact. At the back of it sits a hearth.

Raker is crouched in front of the logs. His armor is in a pile on the floor. He’s back in that light material, along with his hood.

I crouch next to him, and he visibly stiffens.

Carefully, I reach my hands toward the flames, burying the flash of unease that always forms when I’m near fire.

“Thank you,” I breathe, closing my eyes, this warmth melting through my bones. I didn’t know how cold I was until I felt this heat.

Raker grunts out something next to me.

When we’re both warm, I turn to him. “My next lesson,” I say, reaching for my blade. My shoulder feels normal now. I have the bear’s saliva to thank for that. And Raker.

He stands. “I’m not training you anymore,” he says.

A fold forms between my brows. I rise. “What do you mean?”

His voice is sharp. Quiet. “It would be a waste of time.”