His Frozen Fingertips Read online

  “Thank you,” Avery said unsmilingly, tucking it into his tunic so that it lay flush against his chest. “I can assure you that we will.”

  Asa felt an odd catching sensation in his chest. He coughed, catching everyone’s attention. The queen looked at him with a strange mixture of disgust and pity. Avery fell back in line with him, eyebrows knitted as though he were worried.

  “That is all,” Queen Ria said, eyes enigmatically cold once more. “You will go to allocated rooms for tonight. Food and clothing will be provided. You may leave now.”

  Avery seemed to have a sudden change of heart. “But, ma’am . . .”

  “Leave,” the queen ordered, raising her voice. “Before you say something to compromise my generosity.”

  “That can’t be all—” the blond argued, before he was cut across again.

  “Quiet.” It was no louder than speaking volume, but Avery fell silent immediately. “Guards?”

  “Yes, my lady?” one of them replied, bowing his head to the queen.

  “Take the heroes to their room. On no account let them leave. I have no wish of seeing them again.”

  “Affirmative.” The other grabbed hold of Avery and Asa’s inner shoulders, propelling them towards the door. Kean raised an eyebrow as they were led out of the room. Asa balled his fists, having no wish of seeing that man again.

  “Asa?” Avery asked, glancing at him. Their eyes met. “Are you okay?”

  Asa realised that he had been clutching the makeshift map so tightly that it had torn at the edge. He forced a smile and replied. “I’m okay.”

  They stumbled through the labyrinth of corridors in the palace, the clamping force still cutting into their shoulders. A dull ache was growing in Asa’s legs. He just wanted to sit down. His shoes dragged and caught on the carpet, causing him to fall, but he picked his feet up again and placed them down one step at a time. They reached a door, not as beautiful as the queen’s, just white panels. All of a sudden, the pressure was released. Asa swayed for a moment, readjusting to the lack of pressure. The door opened and they were ushered inside, the click of the lock testifying that they were not allowed to leave.

  There was one large bed in the middle of the room, dominating the small space. A heavy blanket lay across it, with plump pillows propped at one end. There was a door in a corner leading to a bathroom, although Asa knew not where they would get the water to bathe. He huffed in resignation and threw himself forwards onto the bed, shoes still on. Avery walked around to the other side and sat down more complacently.

  “Well,” he started.

  “What, Avery?” Asa asked, eyes shut.

  “It could well be worse,” his fair-haired friend reasoned. “We’re inside, we have a bed to sleep on, and the prospect of going on this adventure that you yearned for so badly. We are as of this moment in reasonable health, going to bed on the eve of a life changing experience. Were it not for the death thing, this would be rather exciting.”

  Asa cracked an eye open incredulously. “Excuse me?”

  “Don’t lie, Asa, you know that you’re a tiny bit excited.”

  “Huh,” Asa snorted. “As if, Avery.”

  “And look at this room!” Avery exclaimed, gesturing around the small space. “Wood-panelled walls, carpet on the floor, a real bed! This is the stuff of royalty. I only wonder what we’re having for dinner.”

  “Food,” Asa replied. “As per usual. Is your mind always on different ways to fill your stomach?”

  “One hundred percent,” Avery conceded, bending down to remove his boots. “Not much else to think about here. You going to remove your shoes? You’ll mark the covers otherwise.”

  Asa sighed. “In a moment.”

  “What’s wrong, Asa?” Avery asked, exasperated.

  “I don’t want to die.”

  “But you chose this.”

  “I did not choose to be ill,” he snapped.

  “You chose to come here.”

  “Yes,” he whispered, “I did.”

  “And I, fool that I am, decided to come with you,” Avery continued wryly.

  Asa’s heart clenched in his chest. He dropped his gaze, feeling his pulse pound in his head.

  “I’m sorry,” he croaked, tucking his knees into himself. “It’s my fault.”

  “Oh don’t, Asa.” Avery rolled his eyes. “Come on, it’s fine.”

  “No it isn’t.” Asa bit his lip. “It’s dangerous.”

  “I know,” his friend replied.

  “It’s a long and hazardous road.”

  “Sure.”

  “You could die!”

  “I am aware of that, Asa.” Avery punched his shoulder. “It’s okay, mate. Now take your shoes off or you’re sleeping on the floor.”

  Asa kicked his shoes off. They slammed into the wooden panelling with a dull clunking sound. He wrapped his arms around his knees and let his mind relax. Only, it wouldn’t. Like a wound string, his brain was ticking over. His thoughts rushed around his head as though propelled by some strong current. He clutched his aching head, hands clasping at his fine hair.

  “I’ll sleep on the floor anyway,” he muttered darkly. “Not sharing a bed with you again.”

  “Fusspot,” Avery snorted, leaning back on the bed.

  Asa had been expecting a meagre fare for their supper, bread and cheese if the palace were being kind. When the knock came on their door a few hours later, startling him from his reveries, he was not expecting to see such a feast of food as he did. Shaking his sleeping friend awake, they took hold of the wooden tray between them. No thoughts of fleeing crossed their minds as the door was propped open and the smell of warm food wafted in. Avery’s stomach gave a loud rumble.

  “Sorry,” he apologised to his skeptical friend. “I’m just so hungry, and it all looks so good!”

  Asa couldn’t help but agree with this. Contrary to his usual diet of bread, rice, and vegetables, the tray was laden with every food that he had ever let himself dream about. Strange slices of golden fruit were piled on a side plate. On the other side of the tray were white doughy rolls, given with a small but ample amount of butter in a porcelain pot.

  Asa had not had butter for so long. His mouth watered as he fixated upon the bread.

  In the centre of the tray there were two large plates. One had a generous serving of fish upon it; the other had some sort of meat. Shredded green leaves were served with both, and red spherical fruits hidden beneath. Their supper smelt exotically of meat, oil, and indulgence. Asa grinned wolfishly at Avery.

  “I could get used to this.”

  They each took the plate that appealed most to them. Avery dived for the fish, mumbling a fairly weak excuse about home and mother, which made Asa smile. He took the unidentified meat and tore a section off, wincing at the scalding feeling before popping it into his mouth. He closed his eyes. How he had missed this.

  The meat was rich and gamey, covered in some spiced sauce. The heat from both the spices and the time that it had spent on the stove warmed his stomach. He glanced across at Avery to see that his friend had a similar look upon his face as he crumbled the fish off the bone and scooped it into his mouth.

  “Mmph.” Avery nodded, mouth full. The blond swallowed and grinned at Asa. “It’s indescribable.”

  “I know the feeling.” Asa looked back at his food, wiping his hands on his trousers. “I’ve not had meat in so long—”

  His voice trailed off but he gave a small smile. He tore the meat into small bites with his fingers and started eating again.

  They finished their plates, wiping grease-covered fingers rather awkwardly on their trousers, where it left stains. That never happened at home. Their usual food was more watery, but this stuck to them in a cloying fashion, smelling of fat and smoke. It was greed, plain and simple, which made this food so rich.

  Their bellies were stuffed, making their heads drowsy. Both were ready for sleep, especially knowing the next day would be arduous. Avery crawled into the bed first
, drunk on fruit and meat. Asa grabbed a blanket and settled on the dank floor.

  The night was cold. Asa shivered in his thick clothes, clutching them to him for added warmth. His bare feet shivered against the floor, nails clicking together. Avery’s breathing slowed, the man himself turning on the bed. Asa smiled at the sound and tried to relax, echoing those slow, deep breaths. The blanket didn’t provide much warmth, heat escaping from all around him as he curled up in a tight ball.

  Asa waited for a few beats, eyes closed. His feet and hands grew colder and colder. He huffed out a short burst of air, half expecting to see it mist before his eyes. As he sensibly expected, nothing of the sort happened. The floor dug into his right shoulder at an uncomfortable angle, forcing him to twist into several more uncomfortable positions in his search for comfort. The only sounds were the creak of the floorboards under his body and the hushed breathing of Avery in the bed. He seemed to be asleep.

  Asa pursed his lips, deciding to swallow his pride. He sat up, giving the fire a final jab with the poker. In the dim light of the embers he could see his friend lying sprawled across the centre of the bed. Typical. Asa slid onto the far left side of the mattress, covering himself with a couple more unused blankets. His back relaxed in assent. Familiar warmth surged to his extremities, a rushing wave of heat enveloping him. He smiled.

  “Asa.” Avery turned languidly onto his stomach. Asa froze before seeing that the blond’s eyelids were shut. He looked at his friend for a moment, noticing the hand that had intruded onto his part of the bed. Without thinking, his hand crept forward, palm pressing into Avery’s own. Avery flinched reflexively away from the cold sensation but Asa pressed forward, interlocking their fingers and giving his hand a squeeze.

  Asa eyelids were growing heavy as his vision began to fade to dark at the edges. He let his head fall back onto the pillow, half-tracking the dancing orange shadows flickering across the ceiling. He allowed himself to fully relax, feeling that strange sensation of falling that he associated with sleep. As he slipped away, his grip on Avery’s hand loosened, their fingers still interlocked. He didn’t notice the pair of hazel eyes staring at his relaxed face, and he didn’t feel the responding squeeze from his woken friend.

  FOUR

  “ASA!” AVERY PUSHED INTO Asa’s blurry vision. “Asa, you’ve got to get up.”

  “What?” He squinted at his friend in the dim, unfamiliar light. “Avery, you alright?”

  Avery shook his head, pulling the blankets off Asa. “One, you’re sleeping in my bed. Two, you need to get dressed. Three, we’re going on an adventure.”

  “Adventure?” Asa mused.

  His eyes snapped open and he threw himself out of the bed, the word adventure ringing in his ears. A slow grin spread across his face as he and Avery met eyes.

  “You awake now?” Avery’s strong accent lent a sort of teasing gravity to the words.

  Asa ran his hands through his tangled hair. “We’re going on an adventure.”

  “Yep.” Avery smirked.

  “It wasn’t a dream? We’re doing this?”

  “Sure, if you’re still all for it.” Avery held out a bundle of maroon cloth.

  “Um.” Asa looked inquiringly at him. “What—”

  “Uniform,” Avery interrupted him. “Once again, we match.”

  He gave a roguish wink. Asa rolled his eyes and looked discerningly at his new wardrobe. A maroon tunic, trimmed in black fur, with an ebony badger embroidered over the chest. Loose black trousers with strange loops in them at the feet. A dark woollen cloak with a pointed hood. Tall black boots with slight heels. Lastly was a pile of linked chains. He went to lift them up.

  “Oh! Those are heavy.” His arm sagged with the unexpected weight and the chains clattered to the floor. “What are they for, anyhow?”

  “I think it’s for wearing under your tunic?” Avery suggested, picking them up. “We best get changed now, before we’re tossed out in our nightwear.”

  Asa turned to shed his old clothes, pulling the trousers on in one swift motion. He rolled the cuffs up but found them to fit closely to his skin. His feet rested comfortably in the loops of fabric. He smiled, wondering how they knew his height. He lifted the chains with difficulty, dropping them over his head and sitting with a small thud on the bed. His first thought was of the startling cold of metal against bare skin. His second thought was that it was a vest—heavy and cumbersome.

  It was like carrying a sack of money all over his body. How much use would it prove to be when travelling?

  He slipped into the tunic, sighing at the delicious warmth. The fur rested on his skin, brushing his shoulders when he moved. There was no belt. It was tailored not to need one. The boots were perfect, coming up to just below his knees and hugging his legs at the curves of his ankles and calves.

  A thrill ran through him as he saw the leather scabbard waiting for him—a gleaming short sword contained snugly within. Avery passed it to him, and Asa fastened the straps to his body with jubilant fingers.

  “Classy,” he said, smiling at his perspective of his outfit. “Reckon we look like proper adventurers yet?”

  “Sure we do,” Avery laughed, picking up a pillow. “Just need to wipe that vapid smile from your face and we’re all set.”

  He hit Asa squarely around his face with the pillow, forcing him to fall onto the bed. Asa smirked at his friend, grabbing onto the end of the case as Avery pulled it back for a second blow. Avery pulled. Asa tugged. The pillow tore in two. Feathers seemed to be everywhere. The smile slid off Asa’s face like water from a duck’s back.

  “Oh dear,” he paled. “That was a feather pillow.”

  “Yeah.” Avery stared at the carnage before them, mouth twitching.

  “That would have been expensive—” Asa’s voice trailed off.

  “Cover for me?”

  Asa shrugged. “Fine. It’s what friends do, I guess.”

  They set about clearing up the mess of feathers that had strewn themselves over the bed and floor. There seemed to be more than could possibly be contained inside the cotton case. They swept the ones on the floor under the bed, hoping that any retribution would be useless, as they would have left by then. Finally, Asa stood straight, back cracking. There was not a misplaced feather in sight.

  “Ahem.”

  Asa and Avery spun around. Standing in the doorway was a small boy, eight or nine years old at most. His hand was raised as though to knock on some undefined surface. A stray white feather was dislodged from somewhere and fluttered to the floor.

  “Yes?” Avery inquired, eyebrow rising.

  “I just wanted to inform the two guests that breakfast is ready in the central dining hall. You are to take all of your required possessions and follow me.”

  “Okay,” Asa replied, standing from his comfortable spot on the bed. “I don’t think that we will be requiring any of our older clothes anymore. Do you, Avery?”

  Avery eyed the map from the previous day, which Asa had hidden in the waistband of the trousers. Asa shook his head, willing his friend to get the message.

  “I don’t think so.”

  “That’s settled then.” Asa nodded at the child. “Where is breakfast?”

  “If sirs would kindly follow me, then I will show you.”

  He leaned up on his tiptoes to unlatch the main door to the room, childish stubbornness showing as he heaved against the heavy bolt. It cracked open, rust staining the maroon robes which he wore. Tiny scratches covered his soft hands but he merely licked the blood from his skin and wiped them on his clothes. Asa was concerned.

  “Where are your parents, little one?” he asked him, dusting the child’s front down. “What is your name?”

  “They’re in the city, sir,” he replied. “I’m Salley.”

  “Jundres?” Asa’s eyes widened. “That’s a long and dangerous route for you to walk at night.”

  “I don’t walk it at night, sir,” Salley said in a small voice.

  “How?�
��

  “I don’t go home anymore, sir. I sleep here now.”

  Asa could have kicked himself. He bit his tongue, unsure of where he could take the conversation from here. Instead of speaking, he ruffled Salley’s short brown hair and gave an awkward smile; his eyes directed at Avery’s own shocked ones. It made sense, he supposed, to send a child to a place of safety, a position where they could possibly leave the city. But was a life of subservience truly better than what he had witnessed as he walked through Jundres? He truly did not know.

  Breakfast was soon seen to be a hearty enough meal, though Avery would later complain that there was not more of it. Seven steaming cauldrons of rice were set out along each of the three thin dining tables and the chatter of voices and dishes the only sounds that could be heard as the serving class of the castle prepared for the day.

  Next to the pots of rice were large bowls filled with an attractive looking red paste. Each person received a small bowl of rice with a dab of paste on top, a slice of dark bread, and a bowl of clear brown broth.

  As Asa and Avery were led to their places, squeezed onto the head of the third table, they saw that they had but one item of cutlery each.

  “That’s called a foonif,” Salley said helpfully from three seats down. “You eat with it.”

  It looked like a cross between a stake and a mace, with a hollowed out portion in the centre. Asa observed the people around him. Each seemed to use the foonif in an original way. Asa glanced at Avery, unsure of how to eat using such an instrument. Back at home, all they used were knives to cut into tough bits of food. Most used the spikes of the mace part to spear small pieces of fish from within their rice before ladling the white grains into the hollow part. They then deposited this into their mouth, chewed once or twice and swallowed. No one touched the broth.

  Asa picked up the foonif between his thumb and forefinger, marvelling at its weight. He tried to scoop some rice, but for all of the difference it made he might as well have poured the bowl over his head. Hesitantly, he placed the foonif onto the table. He reached his fingers into the bowl of rice and ate it like that, looking around as though he were hiding a secret of sorts. Avery caught his eye and copied him, scooping rice into his mouth with clumsy hands.