The Fall Of Snow: Guard Your Heart

9. Nine

Nine

A Foolish Deal

I slam into a body of steel and the warriors become a blur around me, one shouting over the other. Huck staggers back, not anticipating my attack, and trips over Coy, who is close behind him. We tumble to the floor, and I mount the warrior, holding my dagger at his throat.

Power surges through my veins like rushing water, vaulting through a broken dam, but of course, it just stirs within, never finding an outlet, never finding a release.

For a moment, Huck blanches at me. His face paling completely with eyes wide, and a small part of me wonders if he might actually be scared of me. I hope to the Mother he doesn’t recognize who I am. But just as quick, his face turns menacing—a cruel smirk across his lips.

Strong hands wrap around me as I'm yanked away from Huck. All the while, his face is crinkled with that smirk as he watches me while one of the warriors hauls me away from him. I'm lifted into the air as Coy comes to my side, momentarily calming my nerves. But I stare at Huck's stupidly perfect face with a vengeance I've never known.

Even with my surprise attack, he finds my attempt to ambush him comical. I come at him with a dagger and he has the audacity to smirk ? Like I haven’t ended several men his size before. Anger flashes beneath my skin. I could tear out his throat for underestimating me.

The warriors shout, asking questions and calling out orders. Layers and layers of voices fill the room. I struggle out of the vice grip when I am placed on the cushioned chair near the fireplace, my left boot scuffing the wooden leg. I shrug off Bear's grasp as I settle, looking to Coy, gauging how he wants to handle this. But when I see his face, my fury simmers almost immediately. He looks worried and rightfully so. If this captain is as entitled as I believe him to be, he will have Coy punished for covering for me. Shame slowly replaces the anger that fueled my fire.

Coy rushes to my side as Archer helps Huck up from the floor, hands clasped on the other's forearm. Coy shields me from view with his body, physically blocking me from the others. Somehow, he trusts me enough to know I won't bury this dagger into his shoulder from behind. Now that I'm separated from Huck, I realize the space around him has affected me so. My body feels hot like the air around him is comparable to the surface of the sun.

Coy's arms are splayed out in front of him, to protect me from the group, and my heart swells with emotion at the sight. Never has anyone physically shielded me in protection.

"Listen. I know everyone has questions. And I'm sorry I kept this from you all." He lowers his hands slightly, testing the waters.

"This is Snow." He gestures behind him and I cringe hoping none of them recognize my face or name from my mother’s sketches. "A few days ago, during the storm she found herself hurt and in trouble when she stumbled into the cabin. She needed help. I told her she'd be safe here." I don’t miss how he’s shortened my stay by days and peer from behind Coy's shoulder, evaluating everyone's reaction to me. Most faces are shocked, some confused. Terran even looks delighted. But Huck . . . Huck looks like he just discovered the sky isn't actually blue. He huffs a laugh at Coy's explanation like it's a load of rubbish. But I stand my ground. How dare he mock Coy's act of kindness, regardless of what he thinks of me.

"Sorry, Snowflake. But you need to pack your things and find sanctuary elsewhere. This isn't a charity." Huck's arrogant tone is enough to have my fingers tingling to release the dagger right into his neck, and I wonder if the heat radiating off of him is a direct result of his constant boiling anger within. But the nickname? What a passive-aggressive prick. I swear if he ever tried to smile, his face would crack into pieces. I stand, to strangle Huck or grab my pack from the closet, I'm not sure. But Archer walks beside me, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder.

"Hold up. I say we put it to a vote." His voice is commanding like he's done this before. "If she stays or goes. I trust Coy's judgment and if this girl is truly in danger, it is our duty to help. Are we not trained and raised to fight for our people? To keep them safe from harm?"

Archer's words surprise me. If anyone here were going to challenge Huck, he seems to be the one to do it, but I wouldn't want to be in his place. He's strong in his tone and the eldest of the bunch. Maybe he has a sway amongst the others that comes with age and wisdom.

Huck turns from Archer to Coy, ignoring Archer's words almost completely.

"Coy. You know I trust you. But we are not a halfway house. We don't take in strays. This is a damn warrior camp, for Mother's sake! If we get caught harboring a fugitive..." Huck's words turn from a low steam to a growl.

"I vote that she stays!" Terran raises a hand high, intruding on Huck’s outburst.

"I second that!" Bear shouts, falling back onto the couch next to me, his body language entirely too casual.

“No. No way. Absolutely not. I am not getting penalized for housing a runaway, and I’m not sharing our rations. I stand with Huck,” Whip interrupts the others, her freckled nose scrunching.

“Are you the pot or the kettle, Whip?” Archer snaps, eyeing Whip in challenge.

“Don’t you dare. My situation was different and you know it!” Her voice rises in fury and guilt eats at me at the chaos I’ve created. I never wanted this. “I was on death’s door, and had always planned to join the Arion.”

“Whip, she has nowhere else to turn,” Coy pleads with the copper-haired warrior.

“Why is that our problem? We don’t know this person.” She crosses her arms over her chest, eyeing me critically.

Despite Whip’s refusal, the others vote for me to stay, not giving Whip or Huck's opinion a second thought, and my chest fills with victory—albeit a small one. Coy is smiling from ear to ear, cheeks flushed, happiness nearly rolling off of him.

They all stare at Huck, waiting for him to break. My eyes narrow on his, not backing down from his intensity. His amber irises glow like flames as he scrutinizes every inch of me like he could read all my secrets from just a look, like my eyes are a window to my memories—to my soul. Or maybe he recognizes me from the endless wanted posters floating around the country supplied by my mother.

"Tell me, Snowflake. What are you running from?" He uses the pet name to try and bait me, but I'm not falling for it. I am no delicate insignificant thing.

I hold my head high as Coy tries to cut him off, but I can handle his questions. Part of me wants to tell him it's none of his damn business, and the other part of me . . . the smarter part, knows that I don't have a leg to stand on. So I tuck my proverbial tail between my legs and answer.

"My mother." Silence fills the room and I watch a flicker of shock ripple through his hardened features, for my honesty or for the fact that anyone would ever need to run from the one person who is supposed to love you beyond anything, I can't be sure.

"You're telling me . . . that you are in danger from your own mother?" Huck smirks as if he's just caught me in a lie. Disbelief then.

"Yes," I scowl at him. I'd like to see him in my position.

"Who is your mother?" Aspen asks before Huck can make another snide remark or question my integrity.

"Madam Evangeline." Her name nearly gets tangled in my teeth as I say it, pain lacing each syllable. There's a good chance someone in the group has heard of her. Our land is quite vast, and my mother is well known for her . . . personality. Not to mention our orchard and Fuzion Shoppe which brings people from far and wide.

"Of Malum Manor? She's the Lady of the Orchard." Terran's voice raises to meet the shock on his brows. "She owns the largest apple orchard in the country!" I raise my brow wondering if he knows what else my mother is known for.

"And has the cruelest of antics. I heard she eats the hearts of her enemies—oof." Archer elbows Bear for his comment and I want to bury myself in the armchair. Oh, they know her alright. Silly to think her reputation wouldn't reach our borders.

"Apologies, milady. Bear rarely filters his idiotic thoughts." Archer's eyes are tight, but I take no offense. Bear is right. I rarely ate dinner with her for that very reason. Between her affinity for potions and sick appetite for revenge, dinner with my mother was somewhat of a nightmare. You never know what was going to be served on her plate . . . or my own. I typically ate with manor staff instead, preferring the company of people less sinister or out in the stables with the horses if the weather was nice enough. Animals tend to keep better company than most, I've learned. They have no ulterior motives.

"No. You're right. My mother is the very thing that people should run from. Her obsession with killing me forced me to flee the manor. It was only a matter of time until she succeeded, and I'm too stubborn to die." As I speak the truth, lead fills my chest, and I fight the pricks in my eyes. Despite my direct answer and the ease with which I speak it, it still grates my insides to hear the words aloud. To hear the truth leave my lips and absorb through my ears once again. I hate that she has any effect on me at all.

Whip sits down on the stone ledge of the fireplace, seemingly entranced by the conversation despite her reluctance to have me stay. Her pink nose contrasts with the smattering of freckles along her cheeks.

"You mean to tell us your own mother," she stops, sneezes, and continues, "tried to kill you?" Her question hints that she may change her original vote for me to go.

I can't be sure if her inflection is more focused on the word “mother” or “you,” but it's clear she's also having a hard time swallowing this news.

“Several times,” I grit out.

"But why? "

And there it is. The question I tell myself I know the answer to, but the only question I want my mother to answer instead. To see if I'm right. To see if there's more to the story. Some completely understandable explanation that I must have overlooked during the countless hours I think about it.

I want to know the moment she stopped seeing me as a daughter, and instead viewed me as her enemy.

"It's a long story." I sigh, but Whip's curiosity doesn't settle as she stares at me further. She’s tough and she’s not going to let me get off easy. If I want her vote, I have to give her the truth.

"I think she simply despises everything about me." Soon, the warriors are all huddled around me in the living area like they’re waiting for a bedtime story. All but Huck, who is still resting against the kitchen counter, arms crossed over his chest with eyes peering in accusation as if one would ever deserve to be murdered by their own flesh and blood.

"You're quite a ways away from Malum Manor. I doubt she can get to you here." Terran's comment is so naive I nearly laugh at the sincerity.

"You don't know my mother like I do. One of her strongest qualities is her unwavering perseverance. She will hunt me down to the ends of this country. Not herself of course, but she will send a huntsman." I huff a laugh. "Hell, she already has."

Terran shakes his head in disapproval, but I’m sure he’s seen plenty of evil in his lifetime. He's a damned warrior for Mother's sake.

With that, everyone looks to Huck, waiting for him to break. Waiting for the vote that will allow me to stay. He must enjoy that he holds my fate in his hands. I can nearly see it on his beautifully cruel face. Arrogant bastard.

He stares me down once again, waiting for me to crack. A muscle in his jaw clenches like he's contemplating. But I hold my gaze against his. I won't back down. I must get it from my mother. Without breaking his stare he says, "No. I won’t take the risk."

The group begins to argue, but I cut in.

“What if I can offer you something in exchange for sanctuary until the spring?” My words shut everyone up, but my eyes are on Huck.

“Like what? I doubt there’s anything you can offer us here.” Whip lifts one of her crossed arms gesturing around the cabin.

“I can heal him.” I nod my head towards Aspen, who looks worse for wear.

“How do you—” True to her name, the female warrior whips her head from me to Aspen, but I cut her off.

“I’m a fuzer. I can take his symptoms away at the very least.” Mother save me, what am I doing?

I stare at Huck, refusing to show my hand. They don’t know my magic’s broken. They don’t know it’s defective. I’ll figure something out. I just need more time.

Huck eyes me with scrutiny for a full minute before taking a breath, “Deal.”

The others cheer in delight but Huck cuts them off mid-celebration, "But," he pushes off from the counter and strides towards us, never breaking eye contact, "I’m only giving her two weeks to make good on her promise. If she doesn’t heal Aspen by then, she’s out." My stomach drops. Two weeks.

Coy walks up to Huck and claps him on the back. "Thanks, brother." Huck returns the gesture and I swear there is a hint of kindness in his eyes as he smirks at Coy. "I know you have a weakness for strays."

Not wanting to interrupt their moment, I look over to Aspen, who seems like he hasn’t slept in weeks and my stomach drops. What the hell have I done?

I've never been one to ask for handouts, never been one too good for hard work, despite my upbringing. I’d have to be a fool to believe that you get something for nothing in this life, and I wouldn't feel right if I didn’t give them something in return. But I just offered something that I cannot give, and the repercussions for that could be fatal.

“I’m assuming you don’t need to be shown around,” Huck retorts as he walks towards the front door. “I’m going to meet with command.” He slams the door shut, shaking the dishes in the cupboard and I turn to Coy, who’s grinning from ear to ear.

“I can cook too!” I offer up, hoping it softens the tension in the room after Huck’s exit. Spending time with the staff over the years at the manor has its perks.

"I think that is a wonderful idea! That way, we will have more time with the new recruits."

"And we won't be short-handed on the third border watch," Terran chimes in.

Coy is the one who took me in, took care of my wounds, and offered me food when I had nowhere else to go. I will find a way. I will do this for him—for the warriors who protect our borders.

Even if one of them is Huck.

That evening, when all is settled, Coy hands me a towel and soap, allowing me to take a much-needed bath in the cabin's bathroom.

Once Huck left, I was properly introduced to each warrior of the cabin, confirming the names and faces I’d already begun to put together. Coy is the shortest of the group, with sweet big round eyes. Archer is the oldest, with the title of captain already under his belt earning him much respect amongst the group. He has silver hair and a weathered face. Bear is the largest of the group, with mountains of muscles and short brown hair. He’s a little on the silly side. Aspen is tall and lanky compared to the others with dark features and a gaunt face, making him always appear bone-tired. Whip, the only female of the group, is a simple kind of beautiful with her hair always wrapped in a tight bun. Apparently, she is allergic to nearly everything on earth. Terran is the dark-skinned warrior with a kind soul who is always smiling with brilliance. It's contagious .

And, of course, Huck. The captain of this section of the camp. The tall, chiseled warrior with a permanent scowl.

I look around the quaint bathroom of the cabin. Though not often used, most cabins are equipped with a full bathroom. With most of the warriors opting to use the communal showers during their morning routines, the bathroom is quite clean for a household of seven brute warriors. I was expecting something much grimier than this. Instead, it is simple and neat with a folded, plush towel on the rack, a nearly spotless sink, and a deep iron tub towards the back wall.

The last time I had a decent bath, not in a creek, was probably months ago when I was staying with the farmer before he sold me out.

Now I fill the tub with cold water and wait for the large pot above the fire to boil. I'm hoping adding one pot-full into the bath will be enough to take the chill out of the water. Back at the manor, we always had access to heated water, but since leaving home I've become used to washing up quickly with whatever freezing water I could get. As long as it was clean, it was good enough for me.

I walk out to the fireplace to check on the water as the warriors settle in for the night. Some are playing a game of cards near the fire, others are already lying in their bunks, dozing off to sleep.

The water is just about ready so I head back into the bathing chamber to shut off the cold water filling the tub. When I come back, Coy has already grabbed the boiling pot for me and carries it to the tub unprompted .

"Thank you, Coy. I could have managed." I hang my towel on the hook next to the tub.

"Just because you can, doesn't mean you should." He pours the steaming pot of water into the bath. "I would never question your strength. Only your unwillingness to accept help." I chuckle at his remark, knowing the blushed cheeks are not a result of the steam rising to his face, but because of his honest comment. He won't even meet my eye.

"Always the gentleman." When the pot is empty, Coy nods his farewell and heads out the door. When I hear the click of the door behind him, I begin to undress, untying the front of my tunic and unraveling my pinned-back hair. The tendrils tickle my collarbone as I note the steam no longer rising from the tub. I sigh.

So much for a warm bath. It was worth a shot—the boiling water must have had some effect on the ice-cold water in the tub. If only my stupid magic was good for something like this. I don't dare boil another pot of water, lest these warriors think of me a priss. I can just see Huck's judgment as I wait for my precious water to heat. Next time I won't fill the tub up as much. Then the cold water won't outweigh the warm to such an extent.

A soft knock raps the door. "Snow." I freeze. The voice isn't Coy’s. It's too dark, with an edge to it. Not like Coy's soft-spoken words.

"Yes?" I walk towards the door, clutching my tunic to my chest. My undergarments, which I typically believe are entirely too complicated, suddenly seem quite minimal.

The door opens slowly as a towering figure fills the space between the cracked door and its frame. Amber eyes like molten lava meet mine. My body flushes hot and my limbs lock up like I've just stared into the eyes of the ancient goddess who could turn you to stone.

"Huck." My voice sounds watery and weak. I hate it. Why is he in here?

"Coy said you were trying to heat your bath." He walks further in, his large frame filling the space. I lean into the sink to distance myself from him. All at once, this room seems small. He's so close to me, that I can feel the heat radiating from his body. If only I could put him in my bath to warm the water.

As soon as I have the thought, I wish I hadn't. My body grows hot all over at the idea of this stranger in my bath. This stranger who shouldn't be in here in the first place. I open my mouth to tell him as much when he nods to the tub. I glance at the bath to find tendrils of steam curling from it.

"How—" he turns to leave before I can finish a thought. Oh right—his power. Huck grabs the door before I can ask any more questions, slipping through silently, but not before glancing at me once more, leaving me feeling entirely too exposed.

The door clicks behind him, just as it did with Coy, but instead of feeling calm and relaxed, I feel tightly wound like a fresh spool of yarn. After staring at the back of the door for much too long, I shred off the rest of my clothes and slip into the hot bath. Hot. Actually hot, like back at home on a good day. My muscles practically melt as I sink further into the tub and now I know why the group puts up with his shit. I dip below the surface and let the water wash away the feeling Huck left me with. Let it wash away the question buzzing around in my head.

Who is this man I made a deal with?